#Forgiven Apathy

[lilpomfriend]

...𝓐𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓪...

Lightwarden - Forgiven Apathy

(Art by @/ins_evil on twitter)

[clourey]

synopsis : realizing he likes you!

featuring : itoshi sae, michael kaiser

ITOSHI SAE ;

- you were a challenge to his indifferent mien. always testing the limits of his apathy, and you had no idea of the effect you had on him. he didn’t know what it meant either.

- what he did know was that he did his hair every morning, but extra effort into his appearance, all to get a compliment from you.

- he savoured your praises, they remedied his otherwise mundane daily routine. the flush — however noticeable — that adorned his cheeks when your accolades were followed with a smile brought excitement and warmth that he wouldn’t normally feel.

- and strangely, despite the signs, he only realized he liked you when he was forced to be away from you (courtesy of being an international footballer).

- he sulked his entire flight after you had failed to show up to bid him farewell at the airport. and when he landed, the air felt lonely.

(y/n) : i’m so sorry i couldn’t come to say bye :( i was really busy

- he had already forgiven you, but if there was someone he didn’t forgive, it would be himself for not having realized sooner what the ache in his heart meant.

- and after a war between hesitance and hopefulness, the latter emerged victorious as he answered your text.

sae : i’ll miss you

- he also made sure to have flowers sent to your door till the day of his return (to your arms, he wishes). he needed you to know flowers weren’t the end of his affection.

MICHAEL KAISER ;

- kaiser was sick, he was sure of it.

- it wasn’t normal how his face felt hot and how his heart raced whenever you were near.

- he hated the fevered butterflies in his stomach when you cheered for him. he hated that your stupid utterances seemed to block out every other sound — your mellow, damned voice was the only one he could hear.

- every instance of you exchanging words with someone—who wasn’t kaiser—irritated him. moreover, he felt insecurity if he wasn’t the first person you approached. how ridiculous is that?

- mentally or otherwise, there had to be some form of disturbance in his body that you had introduced to him. there was no other explanation.

- it wasn’t until ness made it clear to kaiser (albeit unknowingly) that he finally realises he has a crush on you.

- “you know, i think (y/n) likes you too,”

- kaiser promptly turns to ness, perplexed and unable to process the revelation that had just been made to him.

- “what do you mean too?”

- ness tilts his head, mirroring the blonde’s confusion, “don’t you like them? ‘tis been pretty obvious to me.”

- needless to say, kaiser has only been more of a mess around you since then.

[wheneverfeasible]

A Birthday Miracle

wc: 2.3k || rating: T || cw: child neglect, period typical misogyny and homophobia || tags: Steve Harrington has bad parents, platonic Stobin, implied future Steddie || brief summary: Steve’s birthday is December 25th and is always ignored, until Robin gets him a birthday present. || ao3

Steve, much to the disappointment of everyone, was born on Christmas Day.

Over the years, Steve learned to ignore his birthday. Despite what others may believe, he never received double the presents any year, and in fact by the time he was thirteen was just given a lump of cash and told to buy his own present. The Harringtons were far too busy planning their annual Christmas party, something that Steve’s birth had put a delay in that first year and which had never been forgiven.

It wasn’t that his birthday was ignored completely of course. At least not always. It just never was acknowledged on his actual birthday. As he got older, he might have done something with Tommy and Carol during the winter break, but they always had plans with their families on Christmas Day for obvious reasons. Even when he started dating Nancy, family took precedence over a boyfriend’s birthday.

Steve’s Christmas was always very simple. Wake up and get dressed in an outfit that his mother approved of, take posed photos in front of the wrapped but empty boxes before the tree, be handed his envelope of cash, and then make himself scarce as the caterers began arriving.

It was the winter of ‘85 when something different happened.

Steve was in his room, outfit for the Christmas party (different from the outfit he wore for the morning pictures) hanging from his bedroom door, something he would have to change into soon actually. Instead, he was laid starfished on his bed, staring up at his ceiling with that familiar sense of apathy regarding the day.

A few days previously the group had had their own little Christmas party, something where they wore casual clothes or even just their pajamas, crowding into the Sinclair basement to exchange gifts and share (kid friendly) eggnog and cider.

Steve had even managed to get Jonathan to take a special picture of the Scoops Troop, feeling more at ease with his arms around the people he rode an elevator to hell with than he knew he would in a few days in his own home. Erica had protested, but her grin was a little too genuine to make it anything more than a token attempt to remain aloof. Steve knew that feeling well.

So really, Steve had been expecting much the same as every previous year. He would attend his parents’ party just long enough to be the proper, well-behaved son, then he would escape with whatever leftovers he could pilfer from the caterers (they usually made him a plate) and sneak back into his bedroom to wait things out. Tomorrow, he might try to see if anyone wants to hang.

At least, that was the expectation.

Plink!

A small furrow etched into Steve’s brow at the soft noise, turning his head towards the shuttered blinds of his window. It had been a sound he was familiar with, just never on this end of things. When a soft thud came next, Steve let out a small snort and rolled off his bed, moving towards the window to pull open the blinds and look outside.

Robin Buckley had her arm arched back, a look of concentration on her face as she stood on the back patio, and even from this distance Steve could tell she had her tongue poking out slightly as she squinted one eye to make her shot. It explained why the previous one missed the mark and hit the siding by the sound of it.

Robin’s face lit up when she saw Steve, causing a flare of warmth to spread through Steve’s chest. He’d known the strange girl for half of a year and he’d be lying if he didn’t say it was the best six months of his life. Sure, the start of their genuine friendship had come about because of some crazy Russian scientists, an alternate dimension full of monsters, and a bit of physical and psychological torture, but all of that was worth it to be best friends with one Robin Buckley.

Still, he huffed faux annoyance at her, pointing at her through the window pane until she shrugged unrepentantly but dropped the small rock she’d been about to throw all the same. He hesitated only a brief moment before he mimed at her to head towards the basement garage, causing her to grin again and flash him two thumbs up.

A small bit of hushed bickering, sneaking around the caterers and decorators getting the place ready, and avoiding his parents ended with the two of them stumbling through the doorway of his bedroom with muffled giggles. Steve quickly shut and locked his door, turning to give Robin a fondly exasperated look as she began perusing his bedroom.

She’d been there before, of course, but less than a handful of times. He could see the way her gaze paused as it took it in the swimsuit model poster, grinning at her when she suddenly hurriedly looked away with a blush. She scowled at him, but he was glad that she no longer looked hesitant when he was reminded of the fact that she liked boobies.

Of course, it wasn’t really something he ever forgot, but he was glad that she felt safe with him. Felt like she could be herself without fear of retaliation. Sure, he could acknowledge that he still had a bit of a crush on her, but that was his problem, not hers. And he loved her more like a platonic best friend than he did as a silly crush.

“What are you even doing here? Don’t you have family visiting from out of town?” he asked with a shake of his head. They had already exchanged Christmas presents at the Sinclairs’, and they were more than likely going to meet up tomorrow after whatever family shit Robin had.

Robin rolled her eyes. “I told them I had somewhere important to be but that I’d be back in time for dinner.” She slid off her backpack she was wearing to rifle around until she pulled out…a lumpy package wrapped in white wrapping paper designed with balloons in rainbow colors. A big yellow bow was taped to the top.

“Happy birthday!” Robin exclaimed with a grin, dropping the backpack to thrust the package—the gift out towards Steve.

Steve physically startled at the exclamation, his mouth dropping into an ‘o’ of surprise as he took in the present that looked nothing like a Christmas present. No, he could see in between the balloons small script that repeated happy birthday! amidst tiny confetti bursts.

“Wh-what?” he gaped, certain he had misheard in some way.

Rolling her eyes again, Robin closed the distance and pushed the gift into Steve’s hands. “I said, ‘Happy birthday,’ dingus,” she laughed.

“But…you already got me a present,” Steve pointed out, because she’d just bought him Freddie Mercury’s new solo album Mr. Bad Guy for Christmas, which was perhaps one of the best if not the best presents he had ever received.

“I got you a Christmas present. This is your birthday present,” Robin stated like that should have been obvious.

Oh.

Steve’s fingers tightened on the present, the wrapping paper crinkling under his grip. There was a suspicious burning behind his eyes, but his father had told him only girls and queers cried, so he blinked rapidly for a moment to rein it all back in. It was just…

He couldn’t really remember ever receiving just a regular birthday present. Even by his friends. Tommy and Carol had always said their gift was a little bigger because it was for both, and even Nancy hadn’t really done separate gifts the one Christmas they were together. It was just never something he ever expected.

Yet here was Robin, his best friend, leaving her family on Christmas just to wish him a happy birthday and give him an honest to god birthday present. He swallowed thickly, more than just incredibly touched.

Before, he might not have said anything. Before, he might have just laughed it off and opened the present and been secretly grateful that someone had thought of him. But this was Robin.

Robin.

His best friend. God, he loved her. It didn’t matter if it was only platonic (with a capital P at that); it didn’t make it any less profound or true. He loved her. He didn’t think he had ever loved anyone as much as he loved her. Even back when they had bickered all the time at Scoops, there had been something there. He had just confused it for something else at first.

But they had clicked immediately, even back then. Even back when Robin had still thought him the same asshole he’d been back in high school, and potentially homophobic. Even she couldn’t deny that. Like they were meant to find each other. He just wished they had found each other a lot sooner.

But then, he hadn’t been that great of a person back then too. Maybe they found each other exactly when they meant to, like the universe just knew.

“No one…no one’s ever gotten me a birthday present before,” he softly admitted. “Not just a birthday present, I mean. Not one that wasn’t also a Christmas present.”

Robin’s gaze softened, and almost like they were reading each other’s mind, they reached out at the same time to grasp each other by the elbow in a gentle cradle. She didn’t look at him with pity, however. She knew that wasn’t what he needed.

“Well, of course I would be the one to do it first, dingus,” she lightly teased, squeezing his elbow briefly before letting him grasp his present with both hands again. “You’re my dingus. I love you,” she softly added, and the words helped heal that crack inside him that wondered if maybe he was still unworthy of love, just like it did every time she uttered those words.

“I love you too,” he replied, just like he always did. They didn’t say the words often, but they never let them go unanswered.

Robin grinned at him then, and it was that same grin as in the bathroom, when they suddenly knew that they had found their other half after all. “Open your birthday gift, Stevie,” she chided, spinning around to find the edge of the bed before plopping down with a clap of her hands.

“Dork,” he scoffed, but it was full of affection. He knew he was just as much of a dork. They both knew it, truly. He grinned down at the birthday gift in his hands, taking a deep breath before ripping the paper away.

“Bucky, you didn’t,” he gasped, his grin growing as he looked up at his best friend who was grinning back.

“It took ages to find the right one,” she confessed. “I made my mom take me all over for it.”

Steve hurriedly pulled the red puffer vest from the rest of the wrapping paper, careful not to drop the small toy figure resting on top. This? This right here? Christ, he had thought the album Robin had gotten him for Christmas had been the best present ever, but this certainly took the cake.

“Oh!” Robin exclaimed, and then like she could read Steve’s mind again, she was once more diving for her backpack. She pulled out a small cardboard box from the bakery downtown, followed by a blue candle.

“I don’t have a lighter,” she said apologetically as she opened the lid of the box to reveal a cupcake that was a little worse for wear from being in her bag, but still noticeably a cupcake. That she stuck the candle in. “But I know that you do, so hand it over and let’s light it up.”

Steve felt that burn behind his eyes again. A birthday present, one that symbolized something so important to them, and a birthday cake. On his actual birthday. He had never loved Robin as much as he did in that moment.

Huffing a small laugh that was only slightly wet, Steve carefully moved to set the little packed figure on his desk, propped up against his bowling pin he’d stolen with Tommy one year, and found his lighter to hand off to Robin.

“Happy birthday to you,” Robin started singing as soon as she had the candle lit, holding the box up with both hands. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear dingus. Happy birthday to you. And many mooooore…” Robin’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Make a wish, Stevie.”

What more could he possibly wish for when he had the best friend he could ever hope for giving him the one thing he’d never had before?

I wish for Robin to get all the happiness and love that she deserves, he decided, wishing for that with all his heart, and then he leaned forward and blew out the candle.

Next year, after the earthquakes, his parents canceled their Christmas party for the first time in two decades. They were done with Hawkins, they decided. And Hawkins, or at least the people in it important to Steve, were done with them too.

Steve’s friends convinced their parents to celebrate Christmas the day before, allowing them to throw Steve his first ever actual birthday party whose sole focus was just him.

But if Steve used the opportunity of a stray piece of mistletoe still hanging from the Munsons’ new house to kiss the boy he had a crush on, well, he just considered that his birthday present to himself.

After that, Steve never had to spend a birthday alone again, or have it ignored, even when they celebrated Christmas that day too. With one arm wrapped around his Platonic soulmate and one arm wrapped around the man of his dreams, Steve knew that he had somehow found the happiness and love he deserved too.

And it was the best birthday present he could have ever wished for.

~

Hostage Hotties (open):

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife @everywherenothere @bumblebeecuttlefishes @lawrencebshoggoth

[almellow-crk]

I saw a post about a relationship chart and so I'm gonna do mine with my crackpoly. BurningCheese+MysticCacao. These are their thoughts on one another:

MS: "He's devoid me of my volition. But he's helped me comprehend myself. I want to repay him..."

DC: "Her deeds can't be forgiven. But I see she's trying very hard to change. I want to help her"

BS: "Little thieving bird that stole my Soul Jam. The first one to defeat me in battle."

GC: "The bad bitch I pulled up by... Defeating him? I can tame him"

BS: "Booooooriiiiiing. But he can also defeat me... Interesting"

DC: "He is a menace. But fights with honor. I have conflicted feelings."

MF: "The one that defeated Burning Spice. And old (lover) friend of Dark Cacao.."

GC: "The Beast that's now Dark Cacao's girlfriend. They have a lot in common."

Black means apathy/nothing

Red means hate

Green means platonic feelings/friendship

Pink means romance/love

Purple means obssesion

Now some headcanons:

•Dark Cacao Cookie has prosopagnosia, which means he can't recognize faces and some emotions

•Mystic Flour Cookie has scars from the attack those greedy cookies inflicted on her when she was in her cocoon. She uses big and loose robes to cover them

•Burning Spice Cookie had a deathwish since he's lived for too long, found everything so boring and wanted everything to end. But he's been finding some joys in these heroes.

•Burning Cheese Cookie has a bit of a trauma with her wings being ripped off. She only lets Dark Cacao Cookie groom them now.

You can ask me for more headcanons or questions about how this poly works.

[green-lion-antiques]

Your post about Brian Thompson really resonated with me. "I think a huge part of the apathy is because we spent our entire upbringing having shooting drills at school every other week to the point we are entirely desensitized to gun violence in general."

For some of us it wasn't even just a drill. I survived a school shooting. 4 of my classmates were killed. I have gone through something that (hopefully) most people will only have to see on the news.

My community became a talking point. We are just another number to them. The people who had power to change things? The people who could have provided mental health support? Their sympathies were empty promises.

I hear about Brian Thompson's death and feel nothing. I feel nothing when thinking about the attempted Donald Trump assassination. They genuinely do not care about us. Why should we care about them?

They're getting all the help money can buy. Luigi is being charged as a fucking terrorist. Trump is president.

Any empathy I might have felt is gone. No sympathy here either.

(saying this on anon for obvious reasons)

You're so real for this and I'm really sorry you went through that.

Maybe because they've declared the president is a king above the law and gets their past crimes forgiven the dems could run luigi in 2028 as a hail mary unifying figure citizens united will never let that happen but it'd be neat

[mistressmalicer]

i was gonna wait til i had my Sadness, Joy and Anxiety drawn to post this but im impatient!!!

ive seen some people designing their own personal versions of the emotions so im gonna do that!!! This is my personal Ennui 💜 she has a bit more Lore that ill throw beneath a cut :)

Ennui is typically inebriated with a marijuana - type substance, as a distraction from her chronic and crushing sense of apathy and emptiness. She was introduced early in life, and in Joy's opinion, WAY too early. She has a contentious yet cordial relationship with Joy, who she replaced as emotion leader at a young age. A lot was happening in those days, too much for a child to handle, so a large degree of detachment was needed to handle it. However, her early pairing with Sadness and Anxiety thanks to a rough childhood created a dynamic that pushed Joy almost completely out of the way, and Ennui became the unwitting spearhead of a developing borderline personality disorder. Taking on a lot of these effects, she is often very apathetic and unenthusiastic, still addicted to her phone but also using more adult means of distraction ( smoking, drinking ) . They are responsible for massive early memory loss ; this was something they and Joy begrudgingly agreed on in an attempt to salvage the Sense of Self when trauma became an overwhelming issue in the teen years. Joy still has never forgiven them for this act, even if it was deemed necessary... Mostly because most of those early memories are the ones when Joy was still the leader, for the brief time she was able to be.

They have a very aloof and unapproachable personality, with morbid ideals and questionable self worth that directly effects the person they care for. They refuse to step down after nearly 20+ years of being the leader, and not that they want to be, but because they believe everything will crumble without their hand on the wheel. She has a romantic relationship with Sadness, who is equally too involved in the emotional state of their host. The two of them create a very prominent joint component of the borderline personality disorder, even if they don't mean to -- they have known and worked with each other for nearly their entire lives, so it only made sense that they would become so close. Unbeknownst to most others, she deals with passive suicidal ideation, and thinks about it as often as she breathes, but tells no one, believing that talking about how she feels is a waste of time when she could just smoke and sleep it away.

She smells like nag champa incense and orchids, and she is represented by grunge fashion, and doom / sludge metal music.

[chatsukimi]

ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ ꜱᴀᴠᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ/ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇꜱ (ʜᴇɪᴀɴ-ᴇʀᴀ) "hell is a pit of fire for a reason" ｅｎｅｍｉｅｓ ｔｏ ｌｏｖｅｒｓ， ｓｕｋｕｎａ ｘ ｒｅａｄｅｒ， Ｈｅｉａｎ－ｅｒａ.

A chill washes over your body, as though a presence has come to visit you. Your eyes snap open, drawn to the Cursed Spirit at the door.

Instantly, you recognise it's a Special Grade. And you sense more crawling down the hallway.

This cannot be happening.

You swing your bedside lamp through the paper window and clamber out, only to be greeted by more of those beasts. Never in your life have you seen this many curses in one place. Why are they here?

BOOM.

An invisible force thrashes you into a tree. You mutter, casting a wave of fire at the Curse behind you.

It's only been a week since you and Sukuna's... falling out. He couldn't have...

A little part of you knows the King of Curses bears no mercy. You've seen him slash a whole village. You've listened to his apathy when the numbers are read in court, the casualties. You, first-hand, had heard him say he could not care less if you went missing.

Maybe he sent these Curses after you, to punish you for disobedience.

As your body drags you further up the hill, away, away, far up from the chasing Curses, your soul is drawn like a magnet towards the tower in the distance. The turret stands tall and imposing over Kyoto, its shadows merciless over the temples. Sukuna's.

Another wall of flames.

The Curses dodge.

At the top of the hill, you hands fumble as you transfer your whispers into a tiny ball of flame. Your head doesn't register what you're doing.

A Curse lunges for your leg. Bites.

You shriek, whacking the Curse to tear it off. It is only getting darker.

Sukuna.

His name plagues your thoughts.

If only... if only Sukuna... Sukuna...

You send out the orb of fire surging into the night.

...

The King of Curses paces around his room in the darkness, until suddenly, he swears.

Something is blinding in the corner of his eye. He whips around and watches an orb glint, bobbing towards him.

Fire.

You.

He crosses the room in fluid steps.

"Special Grades... help. Kuna-"

The words seem to burn him. And he staggers back.

Special Grade Curses. What are they doing? Why are they coming for you?

He races out onto the balcony, tracing where the message originated to find you. He swears again. His fingers are shaking.

When he descends onto the scene, the remnants of smoke and ash linger in his memory.

...

Sukuna watches as the curses encircle you, each one trying to land a fatal strike. He sees you fight and thinks back to the last time he had seen you.

You had been running away from him.

His eyes narrow in rage, as he unleashes his domain expansion. He has to be careful to spare you. The shrine instantly obliterates the cursed spirits.

Upon noticing him, you drop down to your knees, your head bowed to hide the tears welling up.

It's been only a week, yet he cannot anticipate your reaction. Would you shout at him to get away? Had you forgiven him, why you called him to come save you?

"Thank you, Lord Sukuna."

Remember, that's all there is between you. A lord and his subject.

Despite the praise, Sukuna can't help but feel a tinge of guilt for how things had played out between you and him. Something more than hurt pride causes you to hide your pain. Sukuna notices the blood that stains your leg, which you move roughly behind your other leg, out of sight.

"You were about to die, and your first thought was to ask for my help," he mutters.

"I'm sorry." You try to keep yourself together. "It's the middle of the night- I'm sorry for waking you."

But speaking it out loud makes it sound all the more real, the distance between you. And you only bow lower.

He tries to swallow down the ache in his throat. Perhaps he had dismissed you too cruelly. He looks anywhere but you.

He had built you up then tossed you into the wilderness, yet here you are, not blaming him, not even asking for an apology. You only wanted to... to thank him.

"Don't apologise," Sukuna says, quietly, as if it were natural for a lamb to rely on the wolf's protection.

You take a leap of faith and look up, whispering, "if there is nothing else you want from me, I think- I should get this fixed."

You hobble to your feet. He looks down at your leg and his gaze softens. You wonder if he cares at all, stumbling away in a trail of blood.

Then, he scoffs (as if you could hide from him) and follows.

When you reach your living room, you close the shoji screen. But you still sense his familiar power, washing through the cold atmosphere, Sukuna.

He asks, hesitant, "may I enter?"

Why is he even asking? He's the King of Curses! He could knock down this place as easily as breaking an empire, he could destroy eons of progress, bend kingdoms to his will, but even he could feel like a little boy waiting outside your door, for your acceptance or refusal, like he knew he was just like the curse, dangerous yet longing for your touch. His need to pull you so close you were bound by blood and flesh. His heartbeat pounds in his ears at the silence.

You freeze.

You murmur, "... OK."

Sukuna inhales a deep breath and steps into the room. He takes in the condition of the messed up furniture, and you, the state of your attempt to patch up your leg. It hadn't worked in the slightest.

"Do you mind if I provide you with aid?"

You lean back in your chair, huffing out a light breath, attempting to cover your nerves. "I didn't know how to do anything but slice your enemies in half."

Sukuna reveals his teeth, a brutally rare thing. "Don't underestimate my abilities. They far surpass the notion of 'slicing my enemies in half'."

You bite your lip and stays sitting as he nears. Your heartbeat begins to quicken and you're too tired to fight off the instinct.

He has not forgotten your connection, no matter how hard he tried. You and your annoying technique of setting his heart alight. He continues to close the distance between you.

He tilts his head to the side, looking down at you.

"Are you not worried about my proximity?"

"No," you whisper.

You ought to be afraid. He is a thousand times the potency of a Special Grade. He could rip you in half- who says he wouldn't, just to play with you?

"I don't like it..." he mutters, his voice soft and hoarse. You cannot imagine the hatred he feels for you. "I hate it... I despise every second you are near me."

Just as you are about to advise that he leave, Sukuna stares at you -crimson eyes in the moonlight- and grits his teeth.

"... but I hate you more when you are far."

He wants to punish you, to make you endure what he had in the past week, but... he can't.

"Close your eyes," he murmurs, his tone laced with resentment.

You close your eyes and feels him kneel to take a closer look at your leg. He slowly traces the gnash with his fingers, and as he does, a cold sensation creeps into your veins. He channels his cursed energy, and you feel the wound beginning to mend itself.

After a few minutes, the process is complete and he stands up.

Reverse-curse technique. You had never seen him use it on anybody. It is the opposite of slash, an abomination of a Technique. Yet something tells you he took his time with you. While you were blind to the vision, you could sense your weakness leaching onto him as he healed you.

"Thank you... Sukuna."

"Do not mention it," he utters, devoid of any emotion. His feet shift, turning towards the exit. Two weights.

You don't know why you do what you do next. You don't know if it's out of gratitude or out of nostalgia. All you know is that the King of Curses is a frightfully cold thing for a person so alive, one shade from freezing, and your palms are warm from the fire. You abruptly capture him in a hug.

He feels your body against his. You stay there, his flame.

He had never felt this close, so interwoven; his body feels more alive than it had ever been.

Sukuna reaches for your waist to push you away, but his arms only drape across. Break free, break free, break free-

The only thing left to lie is his tongue.

"Let go of me."

He had intended it to sound intimidating. It rings more like a plea. He would much rather you fight him, so he would have something real to slice, but this is warm and soft and weak... and it is the most human he has felt in a long time.

"No."

He pushes you against the wall. "I said, let go of me." He dips his head to your level, threatening, "understand? I said," -bumps noses, leans his forehead against yours- "- you will never survive next to me. You will burn out."

He touches his lips forcefully against the corner of your mouth, not willing himself any further. Already the isolation is seeping into his bones from the lack of you.

"Never," you hiss back. "You think you'd be the one to take me out?"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

"You won't kill your flame,' you whisper.

"Fuga," he commands.

You part your lips. Just like that, he closes the distance.

Hell is a pit of fire for a reason.

[lol-jackles]

https://www.tumblr.com/ienjoybeingahater/777733368614895616/dean-winchester-is-the-open-wound-in-the-body-that

Hi there. I hope you’re well.

When you have a minute, I’d love to see your thoughts on the post linked abive. I agree to an extent, especially about writers stealing Sam story lines and giving them to Dean. They use the example of Jack and the writers trying to force a bond between him and Dean, when Sam was obviously his parental figure. Though, I think Jack, as characterized, always saw Sam as his main parental figure. I’d also argue that they cut Sam's much deserved anger short in Season 9, so Dean could have a strop for a season and a half because he was pouting over the fact that Sam didn’t instantly forgive him for violating him with the Angel situation.

Anyway, I just wonder how much you agree with their point that Dean became central focus of SPN.

Dean definitely gut more screen time, but I still think Sam more often had the plot focus, only the late seasons did a shitty job of fleshing them out enough, like Sam being a leader vs a follower with the BMOL in Season 12.

Anyway, thanks for any thoughts you decide to share on this.

Link. Oh boy. I will start with that ienjoybeingahate is not wrong, but not for reasons they or you may think.

The OP appears to treat Dean as a co-lead protagonist or a deuteragonist, had he been one then yes his character arc would have been beyond frustrating. But he's not, he's a support protagonist because less than half of the stories revolve around him, more like 20%.  Dean does not have important stories separate to Sam’s, nor does he have his own supporting cast; most of Dean’s interaction with Cas and other supporting characters are not about him but rather about his reaction to their stories because the role of the support protagonist is not only to support the lead, but also support the side characters.

Yeah, Dean is unfair towards Sam but 1) that’s what brothers do, and most importantly 2) that’s what happens to main characters, they constantly get shitted on. One of the biggest reliefs in real life is realizing you’re not the main character. In The X Files, Mulder was called a loser even by the freaks and rarely given grace.  Xena was constantly reminded of the sins of her past in Warrior Princess.

OP's biggest gripe is that Dean doesn't change, and I admit I've on occasion complained about Dean’s defeatist attitude, a plot device that can get tiresome since season 5. Still, it was a plot device that usually works as part of Sam’s Hero Journey  arc. For example, from Sam’s point of view, Dean’s endless self-inflicted apathy is part of the long list of crappy-things-to-do-to-Sam.  In episode 13x05, Dean temporarily killing himself so he can go into the dead zone to find the bodies and free the souls, while a good idea (I guess???), was still a very crappy-thing-to-do-to-Sam as there was no discussion, just “here’s a needle give me five minutes being dead okay see you later.”  It’s been ongoing since season 2, so I don’t blame Sam in season 14 for thinking the Mal'ex magic box business is just the latest in a long string of events of Dean causing himself harm and then giving up at the first inconvenience.  Sam’s angry speech in episode 14x11 “Damaged Goods” was not only about Dean cutting Sam out of his plan with no discussion but also for giving up by using blind faith in fate as an excuse (“since when do we believe in fate?”).  Sam’s speech in episode 14x12 “Prophet and Loss” recounts their long history of defying fate and surviving literal and figurative hell because they had faith in themselves. Dean is forgiven for forgetting this lesson every season because the plot device kicks in just in time to give us some of Jared’s finest acting of Sam’s decade-long frustrations with Dean’s obstinance, causing him to breakdown and ask, “why don’t you believe in us?”, like a child asking why adults do stupid things when the adults should know better. 

Dean’s defeatist attitude is part of the determinism (Dean) vs free will (Sam) philosophy that ran through the series by Sam confronting and challenging the authority figures in his life: John Winchester, Dean Winchester, Lucifer, and then God. They all wanted Sam to be something he didn’t want to be - John’s solider, Dean’s companion, Lucifer’s vessel, and Chuck’s story.  Eventually, Sam acquiesced to their demands but on his own terms, he became a hunter to leave a legacy, became Dean’s partner to save him, became Lucifer’s vessel to save the world, became Chuck’s story to defeat him and bring free will into the world through Jack, a Nephilim he essentially raised and influenced. New God Jack’s perception of humanity is distilled down to, “When people have to be their best, they can be.”  Looking at Sam, Jack promised a hands-off approach but also people don’t need to pray or sacrifice to Him. Sam has tears in his eyes, he is after all losing a son.  But what Sam gained is his faith in himself. his trust in people and the greater good often gets thrown into his face, but Jack becomes the kinder, gentler God whose message is to trust in themselves, for that is where God resides.

Speaking of Jack, the Dean and Jack subplot happened because the writers were building up their relationship for the sole purpose of tearing it down when Jack accidentally kills Mary.  The problem was their relationship wasn’t developed organically because the writers needed a plot device. The writers can’t have Sam and Jack having a falling out, so it had to be Dean and Jack.  As I mentioned earlier, OP is not wrong but not for reasons they may think. Writers didn't "cater" toward Dean because of his fans, but because they were after their own residuals. Writers create new side characters and get residuals everytime their character appears in an episode. The easiest way for writers to give their characters more screentime is to have them interact with Dean because he’s the go-to character to support the supporting character. Helped that Dean is consistently written inconsistently, so Dean can be anything the writers want him to be when he supports their own character. Writers don't want their creations to interact with Sam because as the main character, it is the job of side characters to support Sam’s story. Once the support character’s job of revealing a side of Sam is done, they are usually killed off and there goes the writer's residuals.

Dean did not "destroy" Castiel by becoming an accessory to Dean on behalf of the Destiel shippers. Castiel was "destroyed" because he outlived his purpose after season 6 and Misha couldn't find a better job. Season 6 was Castiel’s best season in terms of character development because it made sense from his arcs in season 4 and 5.  Castiel as a villain actually makes sense because angels are lawful-evil assholes and despite Cas’s best attempts he can’t escape his nature, which is the point of Dean’s arguments about monsters. From season 7 onward, Cas became a plot-driven character instead of a character driving the plot. Stories shouldn’t move the characters like lifeless game pieces. It’s the characters that should move the story forward. The characters’ choices should impact the story and not be inconsequential. (My unpopular theories  here and here and here and a short version  here on why Misha was initially hired as a regular for season 5 & 6 and rehired again as a regular for season 9-11.)

OP's "From the very beginning, Sam had potential, potential for something beyond hunting, beyond the endless cycle of death and violence that consumed their lives. He had dreams, ambitions, and a future that should have been his"

Did OP not see the series finale "Carry On"? Sam left hunting and its endless cycle of death and violence and accomplish his primary goal that had kept him driven and move the story forward, attaining normal life. It was never about eradicating monsters to extinction or avenging his mother’s death.  Sure, Sam is very good at hunting and even became a leader, but they always made sure to show that Sam doesn’t have passion for the family business other than saving people’s lives.  Claire Novak shows way more enthusiasm for the job. 

OP's inability or refusal to see Sam as the main character may be colored by mistaking the character with the most POV as the main character. But as any Dean stans will tell you, Dean's POV means squat because Dean isn’t being talked about by other characters. Dean and his POV mainly revolve around Sam. To quote a casual observer I found on tumblr: Sam gets the larger story arcs in the show and Dean gets more of the “silly and fun” filler episodes.

Sam is dynamic character who went from a college student naive about the supernatural world, to becoming a skilled and effective hunter and then a leader and later a father figure to a future God, and finally a father with a family of his own.  Dean was essentially the same character from start to finish but that’s fine for a support-protagonist, in fact it was essential for the show’s formula.  Yes Dean is a supercool character because the jerk-with-heart-of-gold is practically a fail safe archtype.

"I’d also argue that they cut Sam's much deserved anger short in Season 9, so Dean could have a strop for a season and a half because he was pouting over the fact that Sam didn’t instantly forgive him for violating him with the Angel situation."

I semi-agree that Sam's anger was cut short. First, remember that Dean isn’t going to learn the same lesson each season, which was why he made Sam’s anger over the Gadreel possession about his (Dean) own issue and left Sam alone (with Cas in the bunker) to hunt down Gadreel… only to run into Cain got the Mark to, huh, kill Abaddon instead for some reason. That "reason" was Jensen's years long campaign for a Dean-centric storyline, which he got for season 10. That means the last half of season 9 was rewritten to set up Dean's "rare" storyline (Jensen's quote here ). I explained here why season 10 didn't work, the jist is because Supernatural was not set up to have Dean as the main character.

Back to Sam's anger, he told Dean the unvarnished truth: Dean didn’t want to be alone. This gets brought up again by Billie in season 11’s “Red Meat”, and in season 13’,’s “Advanced Thanatology” when Dean tells Billie that he’s dragging down Sam. Dean does have self-awareness but he can't live a life without Sam, so Sam has to give up just about everything so that Dean wouldn't be alone. In season 8, Dean gave his blessing and permission for Sam to return to the ordinary life he always wanted for himself but, you know, only after he (Dean) dies. Which is what Sam did in "Carry On".

In the end it was okay that Dean's character growth was minimal because he’s Han Solo, the comfort food of the series.  We don’t want mac & cheese to change. Dean is the awesome sauce but not the main course, which I explained in the “Support Protagonist” tag.

July 2015 Comic Con:

Interviewer:  Let’s talk about growth in Dean’s character. Jensen:  Or lack of growth?

Link.

[actual-changeling]

the undercover mission in arcadia only lasting a few days is a criminal waste of potential. lock them in those suburbs together for a month MINIMUM. slowly infiltrating the community and gathering information while trying to not go insane with the way they're Not Talking to each other.

they sleep in the same bed, share meals, spend most of their time together doing research and working on other cases—but do they talk? really talk? about the tension and the awkwardness and the way she still flinches whenever he touches her even with warning? or about the fact that no matter how hard he tries, mulder can't help but linger in her space?

it's torture, it's being locked in the basement office with him, it's watching through a glass door as diana takes his hand and smiles. it's mulder's voice saying words she cannot erase from her memory, fibreglass stuck in her capillaries.

long days of silence followed by even longer sleepless nights. scully refuses to give in and move to the guest room so whenever the dreams get to her, she's stuck in the bathroom relearning how to breathe.

despite everything, though, he's still mulder. she watches him—sunflower seeds, shitty movies, shittier jokes, a spark of warmth in his eyes—and sees him again, not a mask of apathy, and the part that misses him begins urging her back into his orbit.

neither of them ever consciously makes the decision to slowly tear down their walls and yet it happens day by day, week by week. old habits seeping through the cracks.

the first time she wears one of his sweatshirts it takes her two hours to notice and then she cannot bring herself to take it off—she's cold, that's all, she tells herself (he never asks, she never tells). mulder's hand lands on her lower back more and more frequently, and she stops flinching, allowing him to touch, to lead, to shield her from prying eyes like he's always done. he's her partner, unwavering and determined and soft.

he never forgot how she likes her coffee, that she reads the newspaper out of order, that she needs a glass of wine and a long, hot bath at least twice a week. patient and attentive and the friend she's been aching for.

it scares her shitless whenever he manages to make her laugh, the sound having become oddly foreign to her own ears. scully's afraid of the air vibrating in her lungs and the lightness in her head, the way she can forget about everything for a moment. the anger doesn't disappear but it makes space for familiar fondness and the warmth radiating off of him whenever she stands too close to him which is more often than not.

eventually, they talk. awkwardly, slowly, with her voice raised and his eyes trained on her as he listens to every word. there are apologies spoken for things she's already forgiven him for but she needs to hear them anyway. the first time she seeks out his embrace they both cry; something breaks open and finally gets a chance to heal.

they pretend to be in love day after day until it starts feeling like the truth again. until they can finally stop pretending, one way or another.

[crystalseraphsmouthwash]

The Stars Were Made For Falling

Chapter 4: Apathy of the Screaming Machines

“I’m more selfish than that, even. I still want to go on, as terrible as I am, and hope that somehow even I could be forgiven.”

*not ship art this is cover art for a curlya fic!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63663871/chapters/169106482

[lilpomfriend]

𝑩𝒆𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒔.

𝑴𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒚 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓…

(Art by @Z3Rtj0c on twitter)

[unfortunate-songbird]

*on the verge of madness*

it’s always “I don’t forgive you” and ‘Tim died hating Jon’ and ‘their relationship was completely ruined’ and never “I don’t forgive you, but thank you for this” I don’t think Tim could’ve forgiven Jon if he wanted to at that point I think he was too lost in bitterness and resigned apathy to try to reach out to or forgive anyone even (perhaps especially) himself but I think that was the closest thing to it Tim had left. he went into the unknowing with the goal of avenging his brother and Sasha and it’s heavily implied if not outright said that he didn’t plan to live after that he had nothing else left nowhere else to go having lost everything that mattered to him “Thank you for this” for the chance to avenge Danny- the reason he upended his entire life to join the archives in the first place, for the promise of release to die and die knowing he took the circus down with him to be free of the pain and grief and anger once and for all Tim didn’t (couldn’t) forgive Jon but he didn’t say ‘I don’t forgive you and I hate you’ he said “I don’t forgive you but thank you” they make me insane I’m actively chewing on the walls as we speak

[yandere-paramour]

mb if this is too much but, how would the yanderes react to a darling with NPD? (narcissistic personality disorder) if you need specific examples it’s stuff like needing attention, getting jealous of people supposedly being better than you, wanting to be in control of situations, etc etc. sorry if this is weird i’m just low on supply and too scared to ask anyone irl so i might as well get it from fictional characters lol. also i love your writing! have a nice day.

It's not too much! I know how it feels having to deal with a disorder that people misconstrue so much about, but I just want you to know that it's okay and I still wish you a happy, fulfulling life, and I believe you can attain it.

From the second she gets home, Noelle showers you with attention. You're her special, precious Darling, and she centers her life around you. Whatever keeps you happy and comfortable, she'll do. Do you see a post online and decide you want another themed dinner-and-a-movie night tonight? Noelle is ordering ingredients and setting up the projector. Do you want to go out this weekend to shop for clothes? Noelle doesn't really like to leave the house but she'll do it to make her love happy, and she'll shower you with compliments the entire time. Are you having a bad night and you need Noelle to hold you for hours? Noelle will build a blanket nest in your Soothing Room and watch you play video games, quietly interjecting with her own funny comments. It's so incredibly clear that Noelle adores you and would do anything to protect you and keep you happy.

Atalanta sets firm, clear boundaries for you, and that's what you need. She knows how you are, and even though she loves you, she recognizes you could be happier with a few little tweaks to your routine, so she consults a number of psychologists for some advice. For one, she praises every bit of good behavior you show. Atalanta really does believe you're beautiful and perfect and lovely, and every good habit you show is showered with praise and gifts. She also praises your shows of empathy, as the Montclair Foundation is built on charitable acts. She praises your every effort to help the people of the city and is visibly happy when you show empathy/help others. In addition to this, she punishes your bad behavior. Arrogance, apathy, and condescention towards inferiors is met with a frown and very clear scolding so you understand why you cannot behave like that. Once the hard moment is over, she hugs and kisses you, and you're forgiven. Little by little, this form of therapy results in more favorable interactions with people, and you manage your disorder in a way that results in a happy life with Ata.

[poemsmadebyfoolslikeme]

Finally, You're Forgiven

April 19, 2025

I dreamed of nights both long and cold, The hurtful truths you left untold. You turned away, refused to speak, And left my closure incomplete.

I learned to see your silence through, A quiet end I never knew. But still, the wound refused to heal, Its sting was sharp, its ache was real.

Our paths crossed once in 2018, Your gaze was distant, harsh, and keen. No words of sorrow, no amends, Just apathy where once were friends.

I held my breath; time marched along, To 2024, the pain felt strong. A relapse shook my weary core, The ghosts of love knocked on my door.

Another dose to calm my mind, To leave my restless nights behind. For years, the weight of shame I bore, From chasing love that loved no more.

But now, I’ve set your spirit free, Forgiveness blooms inside of me. The heavy chains at last unwind, Your shadow fades within my mind.

I hope she loves you as I tried, And fills the voids I once supplied. But as for me, I’ve found my light, A steady love that feels just right.

My man now laughs, he lifts my soul, He mends my heart, he makes me whole. A peace you never could sustain, A joy that heals, beyond the pain.

[twst-drabbles]

Lilia 13

Summary: In the midst of his misery, you come back.

(Warning to everyone, Lilia is not in a mentally good place, at all. Absolutely miserable. And the sudden reappearance of the Janitor certainly does not help matters. I thought it would be fun to explore this kind of Lilia.)

Lilia had no need for light in any part of his house. The curtains had been drawn, the candles long since snuffed out, and bathroom bathed in a darkness that he found comfort in. He could see just fine.

Snip.

A lock of hair fell onto the floor, heavy with unwashed oils.

Snip.

Another fell, a vibrant red, now forever severed from his scalp.

Snip.

Lilia could see every inch of himself just fine. Perhaps if he cut more, he’ll finally be unrecognizable to himself.

Lilia lowered the scissors and cut a piece right under his chin, then paused at the cool feel of metal against skin. He slid it under, then dragged the blades over his neck.

He stopped at an artery. If he pushed, with all his strength, it would be over.

That’s all it would take. If he angled it like this, then all he had to do was–

There was a knock at the door. Lilia dropped his scissors and he practically deflated onto the floor. Once again, he can’t do it. Once again, Lilia’s chained down by the weight of his cowardice, his hesitance. Another failure to add onto the page of this long life.

Another knock on the door, accompanied by the sound of tinkling bells. Pixies? What are they doing here? And since when do they bother with knocking? They come and go as they please, not caring for the rules around abodes and houses. The domain of seasons don’t stop at a wooden door and stone walls, so why would they?

Lilia sighed and shoved every bit of himself under a rug of apathy. He didn’t want to risk offending them with any intense displays of emotion.

As he made his way to the door, he nearly tripped over a raised, bloated piece of wood on the floor. Water damage. None of that was his concern. There was nobody here besides himself, and nobody close enough to want to visit him.

Why bother? Lilia carries sins with him that can never be forgiven.

Lilia opens the door.

“Oh hey, Lilia, I didn’t know this was your house,” your eyes landed on his shoddily cut hair, too short on one side and uneven bites of scissors, “that’s… a style. You trying something new?”

He can’t breathe.

You stood there, waving away the insects attracted to the scent of wine that practically flooded out his house. A pixie of the wind hopped off your shoulder and twirled into the mass of flies, blasting them well past the bridge.

“Ugh, that’s a smell alright. When’s the last time you cleaned your house?” You asked with a sigh.

Lilia reached out. His palms cupped your face. He brought himself closer.

“Lilia?” You raised an eyebrow, then winced when his fingers tightened and dug into your cheeks. “Lilia ow–”

His lips pulled back into a snarl, and in that moment, Lilia wanted nothing more than to crush your head.

“Why are you back? Why here, why now?”

You’re not supposed to be here. You’re meant to be back where you belong, ignorant and oblivious, happy with your friends and family. Speaking of your adventures to them, recalling those happy memories of him, Baul, Meleanor and that little, precious egg.

Are you here to haunt him? Torment him because of how his arrogance spat upon the graves of those he loved? Or–

“Did I fail again?”

Did you not go back home? Did he not activate the portal properly? He must have, because why would you be here?

And now you have to witness this wretched thing that Lilia has become, because he failed Meleanor, failed Revan, and failed Malleus. He can’t even do the simplest task of sending a lost soul home.

His vision blurred. Lilia wanted nothing more than to claw his own eyes out just to stop himself from crying. Did he not already shed enough useless tears? They do nothing but signal another tragedy to come. They have no purpose, pleas can’t save anyone.

Pleas couldn’t even get Malleus to hatch.

Lilia let go and fell on his knees, howling into his hands.

[mdconfession-blog]

I'm willing to admit that for a long time after I joined the fandom (and bit before) I didn't care about V. Like at all. I do know how this happened though, I walked in with the idea of V being dead and thus didn't put much thought in her character other than "Oh there's V, anyways."

But what did get to start understanding her was thinking about oddly similar she was to an oc of mine and with ep 8 coming out. I started to understand her. Especially with that hallway scene.

Do I think V deserves to be forgiven for everything? No, even if she did it protect N she still hurt him and didn't seem do anything when J was abusing him.

Do I think V deserves to be punished for everything? No, because it is clear that she did it to protect someone she did love at some point. But I think we all know the phrase "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."

Would I say that my veiw on V is perfect? No, absolutely not! Because I'm a human with biased opinions. Like I know my opinion on V will always be tainted with the apathy I felt when I first joined, but I honestly rather have a flawed interpretation of V knowing that I can be corrected and improve then never caring to keep her alive in any of my AU's.

⠀