#I wish I can make this longer or into a series but my brain just cannot go on haha

[murmoruno]

"I don't trust you, but I can use you"

PAIRINGS: Astarion x fem!Tav

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had an idea/headcanon or whatever this is called for my own Tav and I want to try to write about it for a bit. Please note that this is my first time writing fanfic in English since It is not my native language. Bear with me if it sounds strange since I use a lot of Google Translate haha.

------------------------------ What if Tav is a true vampire?

------------------------------

In the shadowy realm of Faerûn, a most peculiar encounter unfolded. Tav, a true vampire, had embarked upon a path of redemption, now residing in solitude amidst the ancient woods. She is harboring no intentions of causing harm or extending a helping hand. All she sought was a peaceful existence in her eternal life.

Unfortunately, while revisiting her long-abandoned hometown of Baldur's Gate, she found herself ensnared by the sinister tendrils of the mindflayer's grasp.

On that day, destiny took a fateful turn as she crossed paths with Astarion. The vampire within her recognized his vampiric nature instantly. Despite this realization, she kept her silence, knowing the plight of being a spawn all too well, as she had once walked that same path. She empathized with his desire to conceal his secret, for she had harbored the same intentions.

Having spent centuries secluded in the woods, Tav had mastered the art of concealing her vampiric urges from others.

She marveled at her newfound abilities—to bask in the sun, to cleanse herself in the flowing waters, to enter another's abode unbidden. She realized she had never experienced such joy, and she believed Astarion would feel it too. Yet, she maintained her composure despite this revelation.

Astarion did question the crimson hue of her eyes, but she dismissed it as a family trait, shared by most of her kin.

On the night when Astarion attempted to sink his fangs into her and confessed his vampiric nature, Tav felt compelled to disclose her own past. She yearned for his trust as ardently as he yearned for hers.

A heavy silence hung between them, with Astarion's expression shifting from surprise to utter disgust. His facade, the mask he wore in front of all others, crumbled away. His anger and loathing were laid bare before her.

Desperately, she tried to convince him that she was not the vampire lord he believed her to be, or at least not the kind he dreaded. She pled for his trust, vowing never to harm him, never even to entertain the thought. She promised to shield him, just as she had always done. She uttered every word she could conjure in her quest to earn his trust, for as much as she knew she could continue this journey alone, she couldn't bear to lose him. She didn't want him to leave. She wanted him to remain safe. With her.

But regardless of her words and the earnestness with which she spoke, his perception of her remained unchanged. He uttered no words and silently departed from the camp, leaving her engulfed in the consuming embrace of guilt.

She believed he had left for good, and she blamed herself for it. A heavy weight of remorse twisted in her stomach, leaving her utterly helpless. This marked the first time she had experienced such profound anguish as if her cold, lifeless heart could rupture from her chest at any moment. The intensity of her emotions caught her off guard; she had never realized she could feel so deeply, or even feel at all. These overwhelming emotions frightened her, an unfamiliar sensation after so many years.

Throughout the night, she sat alone, gazing at the stars, yearning for a reality where whatever had just transpired had never come to pass.

The following morning, she spotted Astarion returning from the forest, his mask firmly in place, greeting others casually as if nothing had happened.

Their eyes met as he passed by her.

In a hushed tone, Astarion murmured, "Don't misunderstand, my dear. I don't trust you, not in the slightest. But I can certainly make use of you."

Shock flickered across Tav's face as she glanced back at him, noticing a sly grin. She had never fathomed he could muster such bravery to tell a true vampire that he could manipulate her.

Yet, the truth lay bare when she saw the tremor in his shoulders. In that moment, she realized that this spawn had already been consumed by fear, pushed to the brink of desperation, with nothing left to lose but his choice to trust her, to trust her assurances of non-harm and protection from whatever perils pursued him.

With a subtle nod, she replied, "If allowing you to use me earns your trust, then with honor, I shall allow it."

The words hung in the air, a punctuation to her inner musings. A glimmer of hope flickered in her eyes, a whisper of belief that perhaps this gesture could mend the divide between them. And in that moment, she dared to envision a future where trust might bloom anew.

[adordeddoll]

wednesday is giving me life force i am so hyperfixated on it

for the past few months life has meant nothing without something that wasn't constantly occupying my mind but now life is amazing and wednesday is amazing and i am happy i love being hyperfixated on something its like a bunch of bees buzzing around in my brain in a good way (the bees being scenes and characters and lines/dialogue and possibilities and so much more) its so yummy to have inside my brain

[theemporium]

[3k] too many shots and a bet leads to a very interesting night out. it's just a shame neither of them can remember it and the whole world is discovering the details alongside with them.

series masterlist

.

RING! RING!

The first thing you were painfully aware of was the annoying shrill of your phone echoing from some distant corner of the room. 

RING! RING!

The second thing was the fact you had forgotten to close the blinds last night, meaning the blinding rays of the Nevada sun were doing their best job in dragging you out of your comforting slumber like irritating parasites. 

RING! RING!

And the third thing was that whoever was trying to call you was seemingly very insistent to get in contact with you, if the three calls in a row (that you were so far aware of) were anything to go by.

RING! RING!

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you pulled the edges of the pillow over your ears, hoping it would muffle the ringing shrills. But when the phone continued to ring and the noise only seemed to get louder, you were forced to throw your hand out and blindly try to grasp the cursed device in hopes of making the noise stop. 

Your fingers wrapped around the buzzing phone, your eyes still firmly kept shut as you kept tapping the screen until the ringing stopped before you brought it to your ear. “You better have a good fucking reason for calling me.”

“I hope you are doing something you enjoy.”

You frowned, your brain taking a few moments to process the voice coming through. “Arthur?” 

“Like, I hope you are fulfilling your lifelong wish right now.” 

“What the fuck are you on about?” You grumbled, exhaustion hitting your body just as badly as the rays of sunlight shining through the open blinds were. “It’s too early for your riddles.”

“I am just saying that I think you should be doing something you love before Charles kills you.” 

You let out a non-committing hum. “And why would he kill me?” 

“Many reasons but I think getting married in Vegas last night is easily the top of the list right now.”

Your eyes shot open when you heard the words leave Arthur’s mouth. It felt like ice had doused your entire body as you quickly sat up in the hotel bed, now painfully aware of the pounding headache that only tequila could give you. 

“WHAT?”

“Congrats, by the way. I do pity the poor guy you locked up though.” 

Now painfully aware of the situation, your eyes grabbing onto any detail that would hopefully prove your brother wrong. Unfortunately, all you seemed to find was evidence that he was telling the truth if the white dress, the horribly large costume jewelry ring on your finger and the abandoned veil with ‘NEW BRIDE’ on the floor were anything to go by. 

“Oh my fucking god,” you breathed out, feeling though as you were going to empty your stomach’s contents any moment now. “How do you know? Why didn’t you stop me?!” 

“I wasn’t with you! I just opened Twitter and found pictures of my sister outside a wedding chapel and all over some random guy!”

“I married a stranger,” you hissed out, your lips parting in shock. Tequila made you do many questionable things, but even this was bad for you. 

“He’s your husband, it’s a bit offensive to call him a stranger.”

“Arthur, I swear to god—” You cut yourself off as your eyes fell on the large lump in the bed next to you. It took you an embarrassingly long time to realise it was another human. It took you even longer to tear your eyes away from the cheap suit he was wearing before you looked up at his face. “Oh my fucking god.”

“What?”

“Charles is going to kill me,” you breathed out, your heart pounding like it was lodged in your throat. 

“Yes, we established that when I called you—”

“Charles is going to kill me when he finds out I married Max,” you continued, lost in your own daze that you barely acknowledge your spluttering brother on the other side of the phone.

“YOU MARRIED MAX VERSTAPPEN?!” 

Unfortunately for Arthur’s sake, you quickly hung up the phone. You could barely process the fact the Dutch driver was currently passed out on the bed next to you, let alone doing so with your brother screeching in your ear the whole time. The phone was abandoned on the bed as you stared at the Dutchman, your brain working on overdrive as you tried to work out what to do next. 

So, you did what any reasonable person would do and shoved him off the bed. 

“OW!” 

You froze for a moment before you crawled over to the other side of the bed, peaking over the edge and down at Max who was currently groaning on the floor from his impromptu wake up call. 

“What the fuck was that about?” He grumbled, blinking a few times before he realised who was hovering over him. “What the fuck are you doing in my hotel room?” 

“This is actually my hotel room,” you replied. 

“Oh,” he muttered. “Then, what the fuck am I doing in your hotel room?”

“Well, it’s what a married couple do,” you commented. 

Max’s brows furrowed together. “What?”

You lifted your left hand, the ring now on display and you could practically see the cogs turning in his head before the realisation hit him. “Do you think this counts as our honeymoon?” 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” 

...

...

“How did this happen?” 

“Tequila,” you muttered with your nose scrunched in disgust as you watched the Dutchman begin to pace the hotel room. If you cared enough, you would be concerned about him wearing down the carpet. Though as of the current moment, your priorities were currently elsewhere. 

Max turned to look down at the certificate he had found stranded beside your veil on the floor, your names and signatures clearly printed on the piece of paper—which took out the small piece of hope that this was just some elaborate prank set up by Arthur.

“How did we get that drunk though?” Max questioned, his brows furrowed together. If he wasn’t so confused, he would be more embarrassed at the fact he clearly couldn’t handle his alcohol as well as he once could. 

“Well, it’s your fault,” you commented casually, which had the boy whirling around to face you. 

“How is this my fault?” Max scoffed.

“You made the bet!” 

Max’s frown deepened. “What bet?”

“At the hotel bar,” you stated like it was a basic fact he should have remembered. “When I bumped into you—”

“We bumped into each other,” Max chided. 

“—you were the one to suggest shots,” you pointed out.

Max gave you a look. “How is that a bet?” 

“Because you said I couldn’t outdrink you. I said you would be a sore loser. And then you bought us ten shots each.” 

He blinked. “Huh.” 

“I’m pretty sure it was also your idea to go to another bar afterwards when we got kicked out the hotel bar,” you said in a sing-song voice.

Max scoffed. “Absolutely not. You were the one that said only losers go to bed after one bar.” 

You shrugged. “I stand by it.”

Max let out a laugh, a little breathless like he was trying to hide it. He shook his head, glancing down at the certificate one more time before shrugging. “It’s not really that bad, to be honest. A bit embarrassing, but what people don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Your expression turned sheepish. “About that…”

“Who knows?” He asked in a blunt voice. 

“Well, Arthur knows,” you started. 

“That’s not that bad,” Max scoffed, his shoulders relaxing. “Wait. Charles doesn’t know, does he?”

“Not yet,” you said before quickly continuing. “But he probably will because the paparazzi caught us last night and now the pictures are all over the internet.” 

Max blinked. “AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO START WITH THAT?” 

“You’re grumpy when you wake up!” You defended, watching as the boy rolled his eyes at you.

“The whole world thinks we are married!” Max countered before sputtering out a laugh. “Well, we are married. Or we aren’t. I’m still not totally sure but I don’t need your brother chopping off my balls over it!”

“He wouldn’t!”

Max shot you a look.

“Okay, he would,” you grimaced before giving him a shaky smile. “But he doesn’t know yet so we should be in the clear—”

BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!

...

...

“Okay, I have good news and bad news.” 

Max looked at you expectantly. “And?” 

“Bad news: Charles now knows,” you said with a shaky smile. “Good news: he doesn’t know it’s you!” 

Max pressed his fingers into his temples, trying to rub soothing circles. “Fucking hell.” 

“But also bad news: he is coming here right now as we speak so we should probably—” You started, fully set on grabbing what you needed and hiding out somewhere else in the hotel until Charles calmed down. However, your plans were put on hold when you heard a groan from the bathroom. 

“CAN YOU BOTH PLEASE SHUT UP?”

Your gaze caught Max’s as you stared at each other, both with expressions mixed between confusion and surprise. A few seconds passed before you were both clambering off the bed, heading towards the bathroom where you threw the door open and scrambled to turn on the light before you both froze in the doorway at the sight in front of you.

“Now that was unnecessary.” 

You gaped at the sight of Yuki curled up in the bathtub, dressed in a similar looking suit to the one Max was wearing along with what you were certain was the shower curtain placed over him like a blanket. He had a pillow behind his head and sunglasses over his eyes, and for all intents and purposes, he looked fairly comfortable. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed out. “I married two drivers last night?!”

“I hope you at least married me before Yuki,” Max grumbled, only to let out a small wince when you elbowed him. “God, you’re a difficult wife.” 

“Kinda going through something,” you snapped back before your eyes moved back to the Japanese driver. “I can’t believe I married you and Yuki.”

The driver in the tub let out a scoff mixed with a laugh. “Please, you didn’t marry me. You’re not my type.”

You blinked, unsure whether or not you should have been offended by his comment. 

“The ring on your finger says otherwise, mate,” Max commented, the ring a matching one with the one that was currently on your left hand.

“I married someone but not you,” Yuki said as he waved you off, nuzzling his face back into the pillow. “And our wedding was much classier than yours.”

“I—” You frowned. “You remember?” 

“Yeah, you said you wanted witnesses,” Yuki grumbled, bringing the shower curtain up until it was tucked under his chin. “You also dragged Lando out so he would take your photos.” 

Max gaped. “Lando was there? Lando knows?!” 

“Yes, now can you please go bother him?” Yuki muttered under his breath. “And turn the lights off as you leave. Only wake me up when you order food.” 

...

...

“Don’t make me an accomplice in your crimes.” 

“Shut up and let us in.” 

You weren’t surprised to find that Lando and Logan were already in the room, both with looks of amusement on their faces as they watched you and Max wander in—still dressed in your wedding clothes from the night before. 

You wanted to slap the smug looks off their face. 

“Is it really a good idea to hide here?” Max asked as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, feeling as though the headache pounding through his head had nothing to do with the alcohol he consumed last night and more to do with the mess you both had created.

“It buys us time,” you insisted. 

“On the chance that Arthur doesn’t rat you out,” Logan added. 

“You told Arthur where I was?” Your eyes widened before you turned to look at Oscar. “Do you want me dead?” 

“You know, something about the way you’re wording that makes me feel like it’s a trick question,” Oscar commented with a suspicious look on his face.

“Oh my god, I’m going to die today,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. 

“It’s kinda romantic that you guys will die together,” Lando chimed in as he grinned between you and Max. 

“If I survive today, I’m going to run you over,” Max threatened with a strained smile on his lips.

Lando snorted, shrugging. “Yeah but the chances of that happening are low so…”

“Your brother doesn’t even know my room number,” Oscar pointed out. “It will take him ages to convince the desk to give it to him or even hunt—” 

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“This is what English teachers meant when they taught us poetic irony,” Lando laughed, all giddy and happy.

“Like you paid attention,” you grumbled, eyes narrowing on the boy before you turned back to the door. “Don’t answer it.” 

Oscar’s eyes widened. “I can’t not answer it.” 

“Yes, you can,” you said bluntly. “Just don't open the door.”

“He knows we are in here,” he hissed. 

“We don’t know that for sure.” 

“OPEN UP! I CAN HEAR YOU! SOMEONE OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD—” 

“Even more reason not to open the door,” you said, pressing your lips together to hide the wince that you wanted to let out as Charles thumped on the door again. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Max grumbled as he quickly stood up, ignoring your pleas to just pretend your brother didn’t exist. He reached the door, yanked it open and braced himself for the wrath of an angry Charles Leclerc.

Much to his surprise, the Monegasque barged straight past him and headed straight for Oscar instead. 

“You!” Charles gritted out through clenched teeth as he reached to grab Oscar’s collar, firsting the material in his hands. “What do you have to say to yourself?” 

Oscar’s eyes widened as Charles backed him into a wall. “What?!” 

“Marrying my sister in Vegas? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Charles continued. 

It didn’t take long for Lando to descend into a fit of giggles, practically on the floor if it weren’t for the fact Logan was keeping him on the bed. Somewhere still standing by the door, Arthur stood with an amused look on his face that only grew wider when he saw your confused and shocked expression too. 

“I didn’t marry your sister!” Oscar said to him, trying to push the boy away but he was latched on tightly. “I was literally in bed by nine!”

“Loser,” Logan grumbled under his breath.

Charles faltered, his eyebrows furrowing together. “What?”

“I wasn’t the guy to marry your sister,” Oscar repeated, finally managing to pull Charles’ hands off him. “I don’t think there is enough alcohol in the world for me to do that.”

“First Yuki and now him,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“If you didn’t marry her, then who did?” Charles questioned. 

It was almost comical how quickly everyone turned to look at Max, who was still standing by the door and looked like he was contemplating just dashing out the room.

“You,” Charles muttered out, his eyes narrowing on the Dutchman. 

“In my defence,” Max started as he gave the boy a smile, though it didn’t seem as confident as he was hoping it would be. “I didn’t know I married her either.”

“I am right here,” you huffed. “Jesus Christ.” 

“I am going to—” 

“Nothing. You’re going to do nothing,” you jumped in, taking a step so you were blocking his line of vision of Max. “It’s just a…phoney, fake marriage. It’s not that big of a deal, Charles. People will forget by next weekend anyways.”

“Uh,” Logan cleared his throat. “It’s actually very legal all over the US and in some other places—”

“Shut up, Logan.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Charles narrowed his eyes on you. “You’re not allowed to marry him.”

“I already did,” you pointed out with a sheepish expression. 

“I don’t care.” 

“Charles,” you stepped towards him, though the boy still looked like he was contemplating parading into the paddock with Max’s head on a stick. “Charlie, please. Don’t do something stupid because you’re annoyed.” 

“I want to cut his dick off,” Charles told you.

“I know.”

“And you can no longer have alcohol unsupervised.”

“That’s a tad dramatic.” 

“And no consummating the marriage.”

“That would be difficult to do if you cut off his dick anyways.”

“Can we stop talking about my dick?” Max chimed in with his hands locked in front of him, almost protectively.

Charles sighed. “But I promise I won’t kill either of you. Today.” 

You grinned as you reached towards your brother, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.”

“You should tell Maman before she finds out through the internet,” he murmured, pausing for a moment before continuing. “Maybe shower first. You stink of tequila.”

“That would be kinda hard to do considering Yuki is currently asleep in my bathtub,” you commented. 

Charles opened his mouth to reply but just shook his head. “I’m not even gonna ask.”

“Good, because I don’t have answers,” you murmured with your lips turned down. “And he’s really snappy when you try to get them from him.” 

Charles snorted. 

“So, that’s it?” Lando suddenly spoke up from behind you both. “God, that was not worth getting out of bed for. I expected more drama.”

“I’m still pissed at you,” you told the Brit, who just grinned. 

“I’ll send you the photos later, don’t you worry,” he said like he didn’t just hear the words that left your mouth. “Maybe one of them will inspire angry Charles again.”

“Please don’t,” Max grumbled. 

“It won’t be necessary because we are finding a divorce lawyer,” Charles stated simply, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head before he began making his way to the door, nodding for Arthur to follow him. “Both of you get dressed. We are leaving in an hour.”

Both you and Max gaped at the boy, but he didn’t notice. 

“And someone take one for the team and wake up Yuki. I vote Lando.” 

Lando frowned. “Woah, wait a second–”

“ONE HOUR PEOPLE!!”

...

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 133,728 others

yourusername call me mrs verstappen

view all 12,892 comments

oscarpiastri sometimes i wonder if you just enjoy pushing charles over the edge

yourusername yes

user WHAT

user it was real?????

user oh my god IT WAS MAX?

user someone sedate me

user this is some wattpad level stuff wtf the book tropes????

user i need to know how charles reacted when he found out

arthur_leclerc badly

maxverstappen1 i mean it was an accidental name but i guess it suits you

yourusername you like meeeee, admit it :)

maxverstappen1 i think i legally have to agree because you're my wife

yourusername damn don't sound too enthusiastic about it

user i just know charles lost years of his life over this

landonorris uh photo creds?

yourusername no

landonorris rude

charles_leclerc take this down

yourusername no

charles_leclerc you are a leclerc, not a verstappen

yourusername the marriage certificate says otherwise

charles_leclerc please stop reminding me

pascaleleclerc welcome to the family maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc MAMAN?????

maxverstappen1 thank you? i think?

pascaleleclerc dinner will be at 6 when you are back in monaco

maxverstappen1 yes ma'am

charles_leclerc MAMAN WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON????

.

[itsscaredycat]

ah yes…

my thoughts under the cut (turned out to be longer than initially intended lol)

honestly, kinda mixed feelings :’)

it’s great that the fandom is making a comeback because gravity falls is seriously an amazing piece of media, and all the offshoots that came from the main series are equally incredible. it deserves this second wave of attention and more! still one of my favourites, all the mysteries and secret codes back in the day changed my brain chemistry lmao

as far as personal feelings go, i can’t believe the amount of people i’ve had tell me that i inspired them in some way to be an artist through my old gravity falls art, it’s amazing! and i am so flattered and happy that i could have that kind of positive influence on people. art is my passion and knowing i had a hand in making it other people’s as well is a really cool feeling :’) i read every single message i get in my askbox and some of them have made me legitimately emotional (in a good way)

but then on the opposite side, there are a lot of people— most of whom i have never interacted with— who have a fully formed opinion on me based on actions of mine that are almost a decade old. just knowing that has been crippling, i’m ND and i’ve always struggled with anxiety issues surrounding how others think of me. it feels kinda hopeless and scary, because there is no way my current actions and the ways i’ve changed will ever reach all of them. but i’m only human, all i can do is focus on the positive and keep being kind in both my offline and online lives, and hope it comes back around

the shy part of me wishes i was just another person in the fandom so that i could share my art without fear of hateful comments, but also having made enough of an impact that something i made got acknowledged in “canon” is hilarious and pretty fucking cool (shoutout to @valdevia LOL) i’m just gonna keep doing what i’ve always done: make art because it makes me happy, and share it in hopes it will make others happy too 🩷

[flawseer]

In your last ask, you mentioned misgivings with Book 10's ending, and especially how it pertains to Winter. I absolutely agree, and I know why, but I wanna hear your thoughts on it, too: What's up with Book 10?

The following is a (very long) examination of my personal feelings with regards to the WoF second story arc finale. While it is based on what is in the text, this analysis will be interpretive and fill in blanks with my own thoughts. Keep that in mind.

Hahhhh... okay. Since mentioning it in my last post I’ve gotten several requests to talk about my feelings regarding the second arc finale. There’s probably no way around it then.

If you haven’t read that last post (it was admittedly very long, and so will this one be), I talked briefly about why I didn’t like that part of the story. I have to warn you now, this will likely be the most negative and dour post in the history of this blog. In a few parts it will sound like I hate Wings of Fire, and I want to say now, while I still have the chance, that I don’t. I love this series, thinking about its setting and characters brings me joy.

I also—very emphatically—want to make it clear that I have no ill will against Tui T. Sutherland. I’ve looked around other people’s stuff a bit and there are a huge number of posts wishing violence upon her or threatening her for doing things to her series that people don’t agree with. That is NOT what I am doing here, shit like that is NOT okay! While I will be critical of her choices, I still respect her effort of bringing this vibrant, wonderful world of dragons to all of us.

Also, obligatory last disclaimer: If you liked the finale, that is okay. You are valid for feeling that way. I’m here to share my point of view, not to demand people agree with everything I say. Just be warned that you most likely won’t enjoy what I have to say. If you don’t think you can handle that kind of criticism, this is your guilt-free opportunity to stop reading.

Otherwise, let's get into it.

CW: Discussion of parental abuse, depression, disease, and extreme acts of violence.

In defense of the finale

Before I start to systematically disassemble this narrative and get lost in a quagmire of negativity, let’s talk a bit about the circumstances that brought forth this part of the story. The plot of this arc was a mess from the moment animus magic was unshackled from the restrictions it had in the first arc, and from then on there was no longer any conceivable way to end this story in a clean way. Sutherland had created an invincible, unbeatable, omnipotent villain; he could read minds, see the future with perfect clarity, and anything he could imagine he could conjure into existence at any time with no cost to himself and no drawbacks. She was likely wracking her brain about how to resolve this impossible conundrum. What we got wasn’t good, but I believe nothing could have been. The foundation was rotting and by the fifth book it couldn’t bear the weight of the plot anymore.

The thing about animus magic in arc 2 is that it is so potent, so all-powerful, and so free of restraint that everyone who uses it also HAS to be a simpleton, or they would be able to break the plot immediately and become god. From the moment Darkstalker broke out of that mountain, he could have said “Any and all spells that are cast with the intention to harm me, interfere with my plans, or do something I don’t consent to will not work, from now on until forever”, and he would have instantly won. The strawberry would have fizzled out. The Darkstalker-blocking earrings would not have been created, and no one could have saved the Icewings. On the flipside, Turtle or Anemone could have said “I enchant the concept of animus magic itself to no longer obey Darkstalker”, and his threat would have been neutered. Point is, powers as potent and easy to use as this really need limitations, or they will quickly eat your plot alive.

I don’t envy the situation Sutherland was in at the time at all. If you’re an author, that kind of thing is a nightmare. It really is no wonder she decided to blow up animus magic for good in her next arc, even if I would have preferred it to get more healthy restrictions instead of killing it outright.

The Darkstalker age regression thing

Everyone has talked this part to death already, but if I am to write a thorough analysis of my feelings regarding this finale, I’m going to have to talk about it as well. I’m sorry if I end up repeating a lot of things you’ve already heard.

This final fate of Darkstalker, to have his memories wiped and be reset to an infant, is really uncomfortable. As far as I am aware, though correct me if I’m wrong, Sutherland said in an interview that she didn’t want Darkstalker to die because, in her view, he did not deserve to. We can debate here about the philosophical question of whether anyone is truly deserving of death, and the merits of “justice” and “punishment”, but in general, Wings of Fire did not seem to have any issues killing off its villains prior if they committed suitably terrible acts. That makes this moment stand out as noteworthy.

Who is Darkstalker then--and if we assume villains can be “deserving” and “not deserving” of death--what about him speaks in his favor, or against? The guy had a pretty crappy childhood, coming from a broken home (there is that inadequate parent theme again). He genuinely loved his sister and felt protective of her, and whenever he liked someone he wanted them to be happy and feel affirmed. The thing that Queen Diamond does to his mother is awful and he is justified in hating her for it. He is also portrayed as rather sympathetic in Moon Rising. When he asks Moon to find his scroll for him and not to leave him, he is not manipulating her, he is sincerely begging for her help. He is stuck somewhere underground, trapped in darkness, in a space so tiny that he can’t move. He remains that way for months, lonely and sad. If you just focus on these aspects, it’s easy to understand why he has so many fans who want him to see healthy and happy.

On the flipside, while he is dedicated to the happiness of his friends, he doesn’t always go for the most ethical way to achieve it. He tries to brainwash said friends without their consent whenever they exhibit behaviors he doesn’t like, or when he thinks he knows better and wants to “fix” them. He has very little regard for other people’s autonomy, lies to his loved ones with alarming frequency, and is unhealthily attached to the idea of power. Those things are certainly not good, but they are his character flaws. These are his demons; everyone has them and they make him a person. If this was all there was to it, he might still be a villain, but I’d argue he’d not be wholly irredeemable.

But there are things about him that take him beyond the pale. Things that go beyond the realm of just being misunderstood, or easily excusable.

He is possessive. He wants Clearsight and Fathom for himself, and for them to listen to him primarily. When Indigo makes it clear she doesn’t like him and cautions Fathom against trusting him, he deceives his friends and traps Indigo in a wood carving, just so he can isolate Fathom from his support network and manipulate him easier. He alters Clearsight’s mind to make her more agreeable and stop her from holding him accountable for his actions; while he thinks he loves her, he only loves an idealized version of her that is wholly devoted to and unquestioning of him. This is why, when he later forcibly overwrites Fierceteeth’s existence to recreate her (which is another horrific thing), he tries to excise the parts he finds undesirable to create a perfect version of his lover. But this caricature he has created in his head is not and can never be Clearsight, which frustrates his attempts.

He is vengeful. Not against people who have actually wronged him, like Queen Diamond. That would be questionable, but understandable. What makes this unacceptable is his frequent targeting of innocent people who just happen to be related to the person who wronged him in some esoteric way. He enchants a secret murder knife that kills random Icewings regardless of who they are or what they think about the Queen, just because the one who took his mother from him happened to share their tribe. He hates Turtle and wishes death upon him in Moon Rising just because he is a green Seawing, like Fathom was. And then there is the big one: He tries to kill all the Icewings who are alive in the present day, where Queen Diamond is long dead and none of them have ever even met her. Even his mother, who suffered from Diamond’s actions the most and has the most reason to hate her, is horrified and calls him out on that one.

And lastly, he is sadistic. He revels in torturing those he hates. He forces his father to disembowel himself, while the latter is fully aware and powerless to resist AND the man’s traumatized daughter is watching. Later he sends a magical plague to kill every single living Icewing sans one.

It should be noted that Darkstalker possesses virtually infinite magical power; whatever he declares, with very few exceptions, will happen. Even if he wanted them dead, he had the power to prevent unnecessary suffering. He could have said “Arctic, fall dead instantaneously”, or “Every Icewing will fall asleep and pass away peacefully,” but he didn’t. He wanted them to feel pain and pass away in the most wretched, agonizing ways he could imagine.

So what he chose to do instead is—and I want you to picture this for a moment—Darkstalker sat down, calmly, and said “Henceforth every living Icewing, excepting Prince Winter and those of hybrid blood, will fall ill with an incurable disease. This disease will cause heavy internal bleeding and make its victims cough up blood and waste away for a few days, followed by certain death.”

This spell does not discriminate with regards to who its victims are. The book glosses over the implications, but imagine the ramifications. Young children are notoriously frail, how many newborns got infected and died because of this? How many families were torn apart because they couldn’t get the magic earrings fast enough? Or accidentally got one earring less than there were family members and had to decide who has to die?

Most of the Icewings were physically cured by the earrings, but an experience like that sticks with you for the rest of your life. Somewhere surely, a dragonet watched as his mother put the earring on him and then slowly wasted away because she didn’t have one for herself.

It’s really easy to overlook how horrific this spell is because it isn’t shown or dwelt on. But the trauma, grief, and suffering it caused must have been immeasurable.

And none of those victims have ever even met the person Darkstalker wanted to get revenge on. None of those deaths meant anything to anyone.

The attempted death toll and scale of the calamity here puts even Scarlet to shame. The ones who come closest to it were Queen Battlewinner and Morrowseer with their attempted Rainwing extermination. All three of those died for what they did. Gives you some food for thought for sure.

Peacemaker’s burden

Despite just airing all of his dirty laundry and declaring him an irredeemable villain, I actually do have a lot of sympathy for Darkstalker still. His story is really sad. He was a child born with an amount of power that nobody should possess, and it corrupted him to the point where it destroyed his life before it began. His parents were always fighting and no matter how good his intentions were, he was unable to understand why he couldn’t hold on to his friends and relationship. He kept making mistakes, then made bigger mistakes to fix those, until his hands were covered in blood and he couldn’t stop anymore. My belief is that, after he wakes up in the present and realizes Clearsight is dead, he loses his reason for living and becomes completely lost in his grief.

Therefore, my opinion is that it would have been appropriate for him to die. If not to punish him, then to finally grant him reprieve from all that rage and pain, and let him rest. I think that would have been a dignified end.

But instead he got turned into a baby. ... And then they decided to magically erase his father’s blood from him? I don’t know what it is, but something about that Icewing erasure makes my skin crawl?

The thing that turns this baby twist from weird into highly unsettling is the context. Darkstalker’s mind is erased, then modified into a new person via animus magic. This is the technique a lot of this arc’s villains used to victimize Hailstorm, Queen Ruby, Peril, Kinkajou, Fierceteeth, and Winter. The same technique is now used again, by the heroes, which is a dangerous thing to have your protagonists do if you want them to remain morally upright.

It is also very reckless, because in almost all of these instances, animus mind alteration has been shown to be very unreliable. The spells seem to wear down over time and are susceptible to partial breaking upon encountering certain strong stimuli. Hailstorm—while trapped as Pyrite—seems to retain trace amounts of his former memories, which is why Pyrite is subconsciously drawn to Winter and clings to him all the time. Ruby is able to ignore half of her conditioning because her familial love for her son partially overpowers the magic. Qibli is just straight up able to reason his way out of it.

The thing to note here is that spells of this nature require a very meticulous approach; you can’t half-ass your reprogramming or the victim will just think their way past it. If you alter someone’s mind, the wording of the spell must be ironclad, lest you risk it wearing down over time and even break.

Luckily we have nothing to fear in that regard, because the spell that created Peacemaker was written by a Rainwing with a total of four days of literacy training. No one better mention the name Clearsight to the new baby Nightwing, or next month is going to be rather interesting.

But that’s just speculation on my part. Let’s assume that, somehow, this spell isn’t as unstable as all the others. Somehow Kinkajou threaded all the needles, and masterfully dodged every conceivable pitfall to pen the perfect incantation, despite having been illiterate just a few weeks prior. This one is built to last and Darkstalker is sealed away really thoroughly, for good.

That is still absolutely terrible and morally dubious, because now you have Peacemaker, who for all intents and purposes is a COMPLETELY innocent little kid, saddled with this huge burden of being the certifiable reincarnation of a genocidal ancient wizard. He’s gonna grow up thinking things like “Mommy gets real quiet whenever the topic of the Icewing tragedy is brought up,” and “Why does Auntie Moon look at me like that? One time she accidentally called me a weird name, who is Darkstalker?” “What is this ‘Clearsight’ name my mind-reading friends from the village found in Mommy’s mind?”

In a village that will be full of mind-readers soon, eventually the secret will come out, and Peacemaker is going to learn what was done to him. A huge, messy load of undeserved baggage was forced onto this completely separate, innocent entity. He will be devastated. Whether he then chooses to forgive them for this remains to be seen. To be honest, he would be well within his right not to, and turn resentful.

Poor kid.

Qibli’s callousness

I love Qibli, he is one of my favorite characters. This happens to be his book, and the fact that I fundamentally dislike half of it makes me rather sad. If anything, I hope this tells you that I’m not just hating on it for my personal amusement. I really wanted to like this. I tried to, and I couldn’t.

Qibli is really weird in this one, to be honest. He is suddenly made to be co-dependent on Moonwatcher, fawning over her every third paragraph, saying how much he loves her, how he is an incomplete and dysfunctional wreck without her, how it physically pains him to be apart from her, oh if only the stars would grant his wish and split the mountains apart so that he may fly to his princess, his muse, his goddess of ebony wit. It gets so old.

And it’s not Qibli. He never acted this clingy towards Moonwatcher. It’s more intense than even Winter gets about Moon, and Winter was actually depicted with a crush on her in book 6. Qibli was always just a supportive element, eager to befriend Moon but never desperate, like he is going to keel over if he is separated from his true love five minutes longer. These very frequent love declarations feel so forced coming out of him. It strikes me like it was just written in service of the love triangle. Maybe if we make him confess his love every four seconds readers will overlook the fact that they had no proper romantic build-up.

You might rightly accuse me of bias. I have previously admitted I am fond of Qibli/Winter as a romantic pairing, on the surface this seems like I am just not happy with my pet ship being blocked by Moonwatcher. But I assure you, I am actually pretty flexible and accommodating even towards pairings that contradict my preferences. I have no issues with Winter/Moonwatcher, for example, because the possibility was properly established and they have good romantic chemistry in Winter Turning. In theory, I would have no problem with Qibli/Moonwatcher either if it was ever set up as an interesting romantic dynamic. But to me, it seems like Qibli is written as a good, supportive friend to Moon for four books, only to pivot hard into “Moon moon moon moon moon moon swoon” at the last second, and it just reads to me as obnoxious.

I got distracted. This section is called “Qibli’s callousness”, and I haven’t even talked about the main part.

Qibli and Winter have excellent chemstry together, whether you read it as romantic or platonic—both of these interpretations have merit and are set up. They’re always the highlight of any scene they’re in. Throughout the story arc you get the impression that these two really get on each other’s nerves, but they bond and grow into really strong friends who bicker a lot but have each other’s backs when it counts.

Then there is a scene where Qibli casually tells Winter that he wouldn’t object if someone wanted to mind-control away some of Winter’s more objectionable traits.

This is genuinely a terrible thing to say to your friend. Like, it crosses a line and ceases to be harmless banter; you’re just telling them that there is something you hate about them so much that you wish they were someone else. Winter actually WAS mind-controlled earlier and felt (and proably still feels) guilty about having attacked Qibli in that state. And now Qibli says “Hey, I wouldn’t mind if someone did that to you again! Hue hue!”

It is awful, BUT I don’t necessarily object to Qibli saying this here. Qibli is in the middle of his character arc at this moment, so he is expected to be flawed. He is making a mistake by thoughtlessly telling Winter this horrid thing, and it seems like a believable continuation of his current character track. This is a reasonable development as long as the plot acknowledges that it’s a mistake.

Spoilers: The plot doesn’t acknowledge that it’s a mistake. Qibli never has a scene after where he reflects upon what he said and apologizes to Winter. When Darkstalker has Qibli trapped in his mountain jail and mind-wipes Qibli’s grandfather into a toddler (hey, wait a minute), Qibli gets visibly disturbed. Like, this is so off-putting to him that he gets queasy and Darkstalker hastily changes the spell. That could have been a great way to bring this back. Like in the epilogue, have Qibli track down Winter and tell him about disturbing baby grandpa theater and how he realized that wiping people’s minds is actually messed up and should have never said that to him.

But he doesn’t. He just lets Winter go, allowing him to believe he is broken and needs magical intervention to be tolerable. It leaves me to think that maybe he’s still okay with it, and fantasizing about rewriting his friend’s mind. Great.

Moonwatcher’s character death

You will find as this goes on that, I get the impression that the second half of this book takes all of the wonderful, endearing characters I have learned to love throughout the story and replaces them with really mean, or stupid, or otherwise inaccurate caricatures.

Moonwatcher’s relationship with Darkstalker gets plenty of setup and development in Moon Rising. You get the sense that these two could be great friends if their circumstances were a little different. It does a great job at making you think maybe Darkstalker is just misunderstood; maybe Moon should free him from his predicament.

Then at the end of Escaping Peril comes the emotional gut punch. Darkstalker actually IS a villain. He callously admits to Moonwatcher that he used his magic to make his own father gruesomely disembowel himself. Moonwatcher is horrified and disgusted that he would do that. There is no circumstance in which something like that would ever be okay. She ends the scene awash in tears because the person she thought was her friend is a murderer and a sadist. This is good, that is a natural reaction to what she was just told.

A few hours from there, in Talons of Power, Turtle finds Moon again and she is completely cool with Darkstalker walking free, despite crying her eyes out after feeling so betrayed earlier. That may seem strange, but this is still good because later, Darkstalker’s mind control plot is discovered. This scene was obviously written to set that up, Moon is mind-controlled into forgetting that Darkstalker could do something that morally reprehensible, and thus forgives him. This is also completely in line with his characterization in Legends: Darkstalker. It’s a kind of stunt he would pull to get Clearsight to shut up about him slipping into villainy.

In my earlier post I alluded to a moment where Moon is set to narrative auto-pilot and says something so rampantly off-kilter that it does irreversible, permanent damage to her character. It happens here, in the second half of book 10. Qibli gives Moon the Darkstalker protection earring, and Moon, somehow, says “I’m not being mind-controlled, Darkstalker really is my friend.”

I get what the plot tries to do here. It’s taking this concept of mind-control and adding a nuance, in an attempt to flesh out Darkstalker and give his character depth. He is ready to control everyone in the world, but for Moon, who is his best friend in this era, he wants her to remain herself. Perhaps this is his attempt at attonement for playing with Clearsight’s mind and driving her away from him. It is very touching in a way, viewed in isolation.

Unfortunately, it does not work with the full context of all the books. Because Moon is in auto-pilot mode right now, her main character trait is “Darkstalker=Friend,” so naturally she would speak in support of him. But this revelation has devastating retroactive consequences. The earlier scene that was written with Moon under mind-control is now altered into her having been in her right mind! She is completely okay with Darkstalker’s admittance to cold-blooded torture and evisceration, within hours of being so shocked by it that it made her cry and ready to denounce him. That is such a quick turnaround it’s giving me whiplash. And what’s more it turns Moon from a principled, upstanding girl into a sociopath who casually accepts gruesome torture and murder if it is committed by someone she likes.

Did Sutherland forget about the scene two books ago, where Darkstalker’s actions were so inconceivably horrid for Moon to learn of that she started crying? It baffles me that this made it into the final version. Her saying she was never mind-controlled makes Moon come off as so awful. This torture-excusing lunatic is not the same kind-hearted and insightful character I followed in all the other books.

Kinkajou’s character derailment

The world is a sad place when I have to question the way Kinjajou is written. Fortunately she is mostly fine, despite her having the biggest excuse to act out-of-character since she’s the victim of a mind-altering spell. Her only real moment of “what!?” comes at the end.

I already talked about her role in casting the spell that regresses Darkstalker into an infant. But I didn’t mention how her being the source of it is questionable in itself.

The clue is in the first paragraph of this section: She herself has experienced the effects of invasive mind-alteration. She was cursed by Anemone in the previous book to be in love with Turtle, and kind of half-struggles kind of not with it, it’s really strange. Turtle is appropriately horrified and acts like really awful things are happening, but then it’s mostly played lightly for some reason. My assumption is that Sutherland introduced this plot point, but then realized how uncomfortable this premise really is and tried to downplay it until the story got to a point where it could get done away with.

But I think the takeaway is still supposed to be that this was a horrid thing to do (which it absolutely is), and that Kinkajou will have to spend a lot of time trying to untangle her real emotions from the fake ones the spell created.

The point is: Kinkajou knows first-hand how awful it is to do something like that to another person. Ideally she should never even conceive of the idea to cast a spell like that, but if we’re really set on this Darkstalker baby thing and it has to happen, she should at least be a bit hesitant about it. And afterwards she should struggle with the guilt of having resorted to it. Not celebrate it and be proud, like it’s funny.

The assassination of Winter’s future

Now we come to the part I’ve alluded to previously; the part where all of these threads converge to utterly destroy one character and drive him to the brink of ruin. Let’s talk about Winter.

Prince Winter is the son of Tundra and Prince Narwhal, hatching in the same clutch as his sister Icicle. He spent his formative years being unfavorably compared to said sister—who easily took to traits that Icewing royalty considers desirable—whereas Winter struggled greatly to embody those same ideals. He was just a little too kind, too merciful, too gentle. As a result he often had to endure abuse from his parents, who made him feel like he was defective.

Because he was young and didn’t have any other frame of reference, he embraced this abusive narrative and began to drive himself with a vigor unreasonable for someone of his age. He scraped and cloyed for every bit of credit he could get, obsessing over advancing up the circle rankings in an attempt to “purge” the wrongness out of himself. To make his parents as proud of him as they were of Icicle.

This never worked. He was always seen as the runt, poised to embarrass the family name. Whatever he did, no matter how hard he strived, there was always something he could have done better.

The only real source of love and affirmation in his life was his older brother, Hailstorm. Where everyone else only saw what Winter wasn’t, Hailstorm embraced his brother despite of his “failings” and was openly affectionate with him. When Winter was with him, it was okay to not think about rankings all the time, and just be himself for a bit. I assume Hailstorm fulfilled a similar role for Icicle as well, which is why both of them love him dearly, and Icicle destroys her own life to bring him back.

Winter also has a fascination with scavengers, possibly because they are small and perceived as useless, like he himself is. He likely feels a kinship with them and observes them being craftier and more adept than everyone else sees them. This is therapeutic for him, to see that a thing can have merit even if no one wants to see it.

One day, he and Hailstorm sneak into Skywing territory so Winter can catch a scavenger as a pet. This excursion turns hostile when they are discovered by a roaming Skywing troop and faced with the prospect of capture, possibly execution. In a gambit to save Winter from this fate, Hailstorm mirrors the words of his parents, calling Winter pathetic and useless, so the Skywings will not think of him as a threat and show mercy. His act succeeds in convincing the Skywings, but it also convinces Winter, who does not understand Hailstorm only said these things to save his life. He returns home—believing his brother hated him all along—to face the wrath of his furious family for losing them “the desirable son”.

For all of his life, these themes have repeated themselves and haunted him. “I was born wrong and defective,” “I am unlovable,” “No one wants me.”

A few months after the war ends, Winter is one of the five Icewings enrolled in the newly founded Jade Mountain Academy. Shortly after departing, he unexpectedly returns home, having successfully rescued his older brother and bringing him back. He is made to believe that this erases his mistakes, his mother even pays him a backhanded compliment, an uncharacteristically “nice” gesture. He is promoted to the top of the rankings, finally his parents are proud of him.

But of course it is all a trick. The “adoration” afforded to him was all a ploy. Secretly, his parents abused power and tradition to arrange for Winter’s death. They force him into a lethal trial they intentionally rigged against him, all to finally erase that stain on their family’s honor.

Winter finally realizes the true nature of his parents’ opinion of him. Even when he succeeds, and does everything right, he is still defective, unlovable, and unwanted. He will never be anything else to his family. And so he leaves his homeland, pretending he is dead, resigned to live in hiding forever.

During this time, while at the brink of despair, Winter is able to draw strength from one source: His new friends from the academy. He vocalizes that, for all the abuse he suffered at the hands of his birth family, he fervently believes that THEY would never do anything like that to him. They chose to stuck with him, even when he was awful, and told him he was not hopeless. He was not a mistake; he could be deserving of love.

So naturally, he returns to them; they accept him readily, are willing to be his new surrogate family. When he almost burns to death at a later point, they fear and weep for him. When Qibli sets out to confront his own abusive family, Winter, despite being mind-controlled into a placid potato at the time, feels concerned enough for his friend’s safety to insist to come along (returning the favor of them accompanying him in his time of need in book 7). When Darkstalker’s mind control forces Winter to attack Qibli, he is shown ashamed and guilty of it once the control wears off again.

They bicker and struggle, and make mistakes, they break up but always come back together again. Time and time again the one thing that is always reinforced: When the cards are down, Winter loves his friends, and they love him. They would never intentionally hurt each other, or give up on each other.

I want you to keep in mind how wholesome, and loving, and mutually supportive this ramshackle band of misfits has been portrayed to this point... Because we’re moving on to the arc 2 finale, and it will do everything it can to corrupt all of it and consign Winter to a life of misery.

We arrive at aforementioned scene, where Moonwatcher receives her earring. Just a little bit prior, Winter had learned that Darkstalker unleashed a magical plague onto his people in an attempt to wipe them out. Now here is Moonwatcher, revealing that she is not under any spell, and has aligned herself with this guy willingly, speaking fondly of him as if he was a dear friend who never did any wrong. Winter takes this badly and accidentally breaks a vase; the narrative lingers on this moment and really tries to sell us on how unreasonable Winter’s reaction is, how he is overreacting, but let’s examine that interpretation for a moment.

Moonwatcher doesn’t yet know about the attempted Icewing genocide, but she DOES know about Darkstalker being okay with casting spells to inflict immeasurable torture upon those he hates. WE know that she knows this, so her stance here is already suspect. Yet she goes on to praise Darkstalker and refer to him as a friend. Look at this from Winter’s perspective. This “friend” of Moonwatcher just tried to kill his entire tribe, and he actually succeeded in killing his aunt, Queen Glacier, a person Winter greatly respects. Winter is currently unable to return to his homeland for fear of being branded a traitor. Even if he could return, he knows his obstinate and spiteful family would prevent him from attending the funeral, meaning he is not even afforded the basic dignity of saying farewell to his aunt. The aunt whom Darkstalker murdered by making her vomit her own blood until she withered away in her bed. And here is Moon, absolving the person who did this to Glacier from his appalling actions, despite knowing full well what Darkstalker is capable of and choosing to look away.

I don’t know about you, but I think I can forgive the grieving, emotionally overwhelmed boy for shattering a little pottery after hearing his trusted friend—who held his hand when he was dying—say that the guy who makes people disembowel themselves and wipes out entire countries may be misunderstood and not so bad. I think I would have a similar reaction. In fact, I would never want to talk to her ever again.

There is no way I can read this scene in which Moon doesn’t come off as either an absolute lunatic, or critically stupid and callous. In fact, based on her earlier behavior I half-expect her to get over the news of the attempted Icewing massacre in a couple hours, saying “Eh, it’s kinda bad, but you just have to do these kinds of things sometimes, you know? I’m sure he had his reasons.”

Then there is the part where Qibli makes his off-color comment about how Winter’s brain could really use a good wash. I already went into how it could have worked but didn’t. But with the timing here, we’ve already had Moon spit on their friendship, so as Winter’s other closest friend, it naturally follows that Qibli also craps on his feelings.

Consider the context: Winter comes from an abusive household where his parents forcibly tried to change him away from who he was to purge the “wrongness” from him. When they betray him and he narrowly escapes their attempt on his life, he re-affirms his belief in his friends, and the knowledge that they wouldn’t treat him like that gives him the strength he needs to keep going. But now, Qibli asserts that Winter DOES need to be altered, thereby AGREEING with Winter’s abusive parents, rendering Winter’s affirmation from book 7 erroneous. Qibli WOULD treat him like that if it made Winter less “intolerable”.

Neither Moonwatcher nor Qibli ever make an attempt to repair this rift. Winter is left betrayed and alone.

Stuff happens, and the forces of the Nightwings and Icewings come to blows over Jade Mountain. With his two closest friends having written him off and his support network eroded, Winter relapses into thinking he is worthless, seeks validation in unquestioning patriotism, and realigns himself with his abusive family by throwing himself into the battle. Nobody wants him to, in fact his parents still hate him for it, but whatever. His father dies and his mother blames him for it.

Meanwhile Turtle, Anemone, and Qibli are cooking up a solution to the battle problem. They have the idea to make everyone’s minds connect in a huge empathy wave for a few moments, which I think is a pretty interesting idea for what it’s worth. But then they teleport both armies back to their homes, and the spell sweeps Winter up with them, taking him out of the rest of the finale and bringing him to the Ice Kingdom. The characters say “whoops” but aren’t further concerned with the situation. It’s all a big laugh.

Let me remind you that Winter is currently considered not welcome on Icewing territory. His family, whom he was sent back with, is extremely abusive and vindictive. His friends know this. Said parents have previously arranged for him to be killed, and are still on record as wanting him dead. His friends KNOW this. And now he is alone with them and a gaggle of other royal Icewings who all are extremely pissed off at him for ruining their sacred trial site.

It is very possible that he is being torn apart and mauled by an enraged mob right now. He could be forced into captivity and flayed. Maybe the interim regent is sentencing him to death and getting the rope ready. There is a million different horrible things that could be happening to Winter right now, while he is trapped alone with people who hate him, things his friends would be reasonably able to anticipate. And nobody is doing anything to get him out of there, to suggest bringing him back, even though it would only take a single spoken sentence to do so! They aren’t even concerned!

Then the climax happens, strawberry thing and all, and we get the coup de grâce. After all is said and done, the group decides that Winter is untrustworthy, and that they must protect the secret of Darkstalker’s fate from him, because they fear if he knew he would kill Peacemaker.

Moon, who read Winter’s mind in book 6 and reached out to him about how the “ruthless Icewing warrior” persona in his head is a facade and how she sees he has a gentle and good heart... Moon, who in book 7 finds out about Winter’s secret deal to kill Glory and STILL trusts him, who calls out his bullshit to his face because she KNOWS how kind-hearted Winter is and that he would never resort to murder... Moon who, again, held his hand while he was dying... thinks that the dragon she has reminded of his compassionate nature time and time again would kill an innocent child.

This is disgusting. Moon believing that is so far off the mark with regards to anything this group has embodied or done for any of the last 4 books, that my only conclusion can be that these are different characters. Maybe the Nightwing library collapsed on top of original Moon, and when Darkstalker magiced her back to health she came back wrong or something. I don’t know.

So after all of this, Winter is left alone. He somehow escaped from the Ice Kingdom; luckily there is a timeskip so we can just gloss over the horrible situation he was put in by his friends. He thinks about Jade Mountain. He reflects on everything that happened, how his parents never really loved him... How they hated him so much they tried to kill him... How he despaired, but found solace in his friends who loved him for who he was.... How those friends then betrayed him too and magiced him away... How they didn’t care about what happened to him... And he decides he is done. He won’t bother going back. A few people, probably Sunny, reach out to tell him he is welcome back, but he says “it wouldn’t be fair to other Icewings if an exile took up a bed”. The decision isn’t hard to make, after all there is nothing left for him there. Everyone has written him off, moved on and left him behind.

Kinkajou visits sometimes, tries to stay in touch, but that’s just how she is. Maybe the others sent her to check on whether he’s going to become troublesome. They don’t trust him. Better to keep an eye on him, he might kill the baby.

With nowhere else to go, Winter moves to Sanctuary, a place for rejects like him. I picture him standing there, at the edge of a cliff staring blankly into the distance. He is completely alone; no one wants to go near him or talk to him beyond the bare necessities. He could probably make new friends with the Talons of Peace if he tried, but there is no point. Why should someone like him have friends? It wouldn’t work. They’d just decide he is too inconvenient to be around. Sooner or later they would just tell him to leave anyway. It's better not to try, so he doesn't get hurt again.

And slowly it dawns on him. His parents had been right all along. It was never them, or the others, it was him. He is the problem. The Icewings said it, Qibli said it, Moonwatcher said it. There is just something fundamentally wrong with him.

He is defective. He is unlovable. Nobody wants him. He will never be anything, or have anyone. And so he stands at the cliff, looking over the broken vase fragments of his life... This is who he is. Prince Winter. A mistake.

And quietly, where no one knows or cares, he does the only thing he has left to do... he begins to weep.

As it is written, the tale of Winter is the story of a boy who is told he is wrong for being alive. He closes his ears and tries to keep walking forward, desperate to prove that he is not an error, that he has merit. But this book comes out and it unmistakably says that he doesn’t. He is nothing, and he deserves to have nothing.

And I just cannot accept that.

Why did this have to happen?

I think that the author was really struggling with the ending of this book. I’ve said before how much of a corner she wrote herself into with such an invincible villain. I think she came up with the strawberry idea as a solution to this problem. But as she was writing it, the characters kept fighting her. It was not a natural solution, not a decision the characters—as they were established—would ever make.

So concessions had to be made to force the issue. Established traits had to be bent slightly to make this plot work. The farther she went, the worse it got. The concessions piled up and turned into contrivances. Eventually the characters were no longer acting like themselves. Their bonds got stretched too far and some snapped. It’s a very tragic pitfall that occurs with long-running series.

I think Sutherland must have also been tired. Writing an entire book is a monumental task, and writing 6 connected ones even moreso. She also comes out with these things really quickly. Maybe she was burnt out? Maybe she wanted to be done and her attention lapsed. Maybe that’s why she forgot that Moon knew about the disemboweling. It seems reasonable to believe when you consider that the next story arc would make a relatively clean break from the problems of this arc, especially with regards to the magic system.

But I don’t know what ultimately happened, so I can only speculate. I reiterate, I bear no ill will against Sutherland for writing this. Even if I kind of hate everything about this finale, and very vocally wish it would be different, I don’t want this examination to generate (or reawaken) any hatred towards her, or to attack her personally. I understand the pain of an artist who gets trapped with something for too long and has to find the means, any means, to see it through to the end. I criticize the story, but I could never hate anyone for that.

But for me, I do not consider this half of the book as part of the story. The characters act too unnaturally for it to have happened. So to me, it didn’t. We don’t know what happened, maybe Darkstalker is still out there. Maybe they dealt with him. Maybe what actually happened is my crappy and self-indulgent rewrite of the ending which I will never show to anyone because it would be really embarrassing.

But whatever actually ended up happening, I am sure Winter never ended up at that cliff, pondering how worthless and meaningless his life was. He is currently at Jade Mountain, surrounded by friends who love him, and bickering with Qibli about the correct solution to their advanced calculus assignment that is due tomorrow.

Is there anything left to say?

Probably.

I didn’t talk about Anemone yet. You know, in the epilogue she enchants herself a bracelet that makes her “not be so mean all the time”. I find that creepy. To me it reads as Anemone voluntarily brainwashing herself with magic to erase her negative traits instead of growing past them naturally because she finds them undesirable and wants to work to change for the better. I would ordinarily assume that this is an overreaction on my part, and I’m just reading the scene wrong. But no, we just got through a part where the heroes brainwashing someone is treated as an unequivocal good and worthy of celebration, so I think my reading may actually be spot on. Why are we letting the little kid alter her own brain without supervision? Hello? Tsunami? Someone intervene maybe? This cannot be healthy.

Turtle stands out to me as the one bright spot in all of this. He (and Peril, but she’s mostly out of focus) remain as the only main characters of this arc who don’t have any mind-boggling out-of-character moments or sudden streaks of uncharacteristic callousness. I really like the part where Qibli goes to free Turtle from his captivity and plans to give him an earful about the comically unhelpful messages he’s been sending him. But when Turtle asks if what he did was helpful, Qibli sees how beaten down and exhausted Turtle is, and wordlessly drops his frustration to tell him “Yeah, they were helpful.” That is the true Qibli shining through for a moment, showing that he cares about the well-being of his friends.

Do I hate the pairing of Qibli/Moonwatcher? No. Well, I DO hate how it happened in the book, and how the story tried to assassinate Winter’s character to resolve the love triangle and make it happen. I don’t hate it on principle though. If you are a fan of Qibli/Moonwatcher and want to write fanfics about it, please do! I absolutely encourage you to do that! Maybe you can fix this mess and turn it into something that’s actually properly handled!

Mightyclaws keeps the power that Darkstalker granted him past the finale. That means all the spells that Darkstalker cast are technically still active. Does that mean the Icewings have to wear earrings for the rest of their lives? Do they get sick again if they take them off? Is Peril forever cursed to think of Darkstalker as a cool old uncle and has to somehow reconcile how everyone else thinks of him? How did the Nightwings relinquishing their powers work, do they have to wear the earrings forever too now?

And there is one more thing to mention.

My confession

You may have already intuited this, if you’ve been following the content of my blog. It is very heavily skewed towards the first and second arcs of the series. I would now like to confess something.

When I read the second half of book 10, I found it so disillusioning, Winter’s fate so upsetting... that I put down the series then and there. And I haven’t picked it back up since.

That’s right, I have not read arc 3. I don’t know if that makes me a fake fan. I know pretty much everything that happens in it, the controversial twist at the end, Pyrrhia coming back into the story later, Snowfall getting brainwashed by a piece of jewelry until she cares about a plot that had nothing to do with her or the fate of the Icewings, etc..

It’s not out of malice, or because it’s a new continent. The opposite in fact; I would have greatly prefered a clean break with a new setting—Bug-themed dragons in a slightly more contemporary, developed environment sounds fascinating and full of potential. I don’t hate Pantala or the new characters.

I just... I can’t really do this again. I can’t handle the thought of Pyrrhia coming back post-Darkstalker, with Winter showing up and talking to these guys again like nothing happened, seeming like a different person, joking around with them like his entire character wasn’t dragged through a mountain of manure to make the plot bend a certain way. I think as long as this is the ending that the story is continuing from, seeing that would just make me miserable.

Maybe I will just stay in the parts of the story that I fell in love with. And imagine a version of reality in which Pantala is allowed to exist on its own, where Swordtail was the fourth POV character of arc 3, where Queen Wasp stayed the villain throughout, and Snowfall got her own legends book about how she reformed Icewing society and fixed all the shit that poisoned Winter’s life, so future generations don’t have to suffer through the same stuff he did.

~~~~~

If you’re still with me, thank you for reading this far. I think this is everything I ever thought about the finale of the second story arc, so now I never have to talk about it again. Writing this was difficult. I found it crushing at times. This will probably stand as the only overtly negative post I have ever made on this blog. I love Wings of Fire, and I want to celebrate it. To add to it, not tear it down.

I hope this wasn’t too boring, or painful, or frustrating, or soul-crushing to read through. I’ll see you later, hopefully with a more constructive post.

[ervotica]

loved up?

pairing; fred weasley x fem!reader

series; the bestfriendverse NEW! (ongoing)

warnings; allusions to self harm (reader), pining, idiots in love (but they don't know it yet), a lil sad but also fluffy

synopsis; fred gives you - his obviously platonic best friend - a cuddle in the common room. an interrogation ensues.

a/n; i'm veeeery rusty but i'm back bitches!! and proud to present.... the bestfriendverse. turning this into a lil series of drabbles (& hopefully longer chapters) if my brain keeps braining for long enough. so requests are muchly appreciated and my inbox is always open. cannot wait to explore these two in more depth!!! missed you all </3

You're halfway into Fred's lap when George and Lee round the corner to the common room, melty soft and warm with your legs over his thighs, eyes closed and lashes brushing at the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

He smells lovely.

He feels even lovelier – that soft rumble of his chest that lazily pushes its way through you, his hand at the side of your neck, keeping you nuzzling against him like a needy kitten. He hikes you further up and you preen, eyes still closed, half asleep and well on your way to drooling on his shoulder.

You stretch and wheedle your arms underneath his own until your shoulder is squeezed beneath his armpit. He makes room for you, as expected.

"Oi! They're having a love-fest in here!" Lee says. You groan and dig your head further into Fred's neck. Your heartbeat ticks up when he scrubs a sweeping circle over your back with his palm outstretched –you don't even mind when he rucks up your t-shirt.

You diligently ignore the hammering in your own ears.

The other end of the settee dips and George's weight settles at your back, knuckles brushing at the back of your neck in a way he knows makes you bristle and squirm. You squeak and make to dive behind Fred.

"Leave her be, Georgie," Fred says, mock offence dripping from his every syllable. His arm lifts instinctively and he ushers you right under until you're well and truly squashed, your whole body curled inward against his chest. It's endearing how seriously he takes defending your honour. "We were very comfortable before you interrupted, you silly sod."

"I resent that comment."

"You resemble it, more like."

George gasps in faux horror. You tip your head upwards just in time to watch Lee throw his arms around the pair of you, a devious grin on his face.

You know what he's going to say, no matter how much you wish he wouldn't.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you two looked proper loved up. Wouldn't you agree, George?"

"Absolutely."

If Fred feels you deflate, he's gracious enough not to mention it. Your lips purse and you busy yourself picking at your cuticles.

"Shut up," Fred snorts as though the thought alone is utterly ridiculous. Your heart does this awful sort of flip-flop that knocks the breath right out of you– it leaves an ache that carries right down to your toes.

You try to disentangle yourself from him as smoothly as possible. You want to run and hide from this conversation, the very conversation you've been rehearsing over and over in your head for months.

Being in love with your best friend isn't for the faint of heart.

Fred clings when you attempt to slide out of his grip, tugging you right back into his side. Heat rises to your cheeks so fast you feel faint.

Honestly, you might pass out right now.

Lee's already distracted, animatedly discussing the next upcoming prank with almost concerning fervour. Fred absentmindedly fiddles with the hem of your t-shirt as he listens.

Godric, you're burning up.

You can feel George's eyes on you. You know what he wants to say – can picture it right down to the pitying look in his eyes. He's always been the more observant twin.

You don't want to hear it.

Fred won't let go no matter how much you fidget. You pick at your nails until red pools at the edges of your cuticles. The sting prickles at your eyes.

"Hey." Fred's attention snaps to you suddenly. "What's the matter, lovie? You feeling alright?"

Fucking hell. He must be doing it on purpose, surely. Your throat burns.

"Nothing," you croak. "I'm okay."

It's just convincing enough for him to leave it, though you're half sure you'll be questioned later.

He smears a kiss to the crown of your head before he stands and it almost finishes you off.

That boy is going to be the death of you.

[gumiluver]

Prompt 20 w geto? But the after math.. like yk, when reader keeps pushing his buttons after that 🤭 fem reader plsss

I’m feeling the vibes babe, let me give it a shot!! <3

prompt 20: “Behave. You don’t want to see the punishments I have in mind for you.”

lover <3: suguru geto x afab!reader

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18–minors will be blocked (DNI), wc: 1.1K

cw: smut, nsfw, pwp, afab!reader, handcuffs, slight degradation, manhandling, dom/sub dynamics

an: first request for my series special!! if you haven’t put in a request yet, they are still open! check out the guidelines here for more info :)

border credit: @/cafekitsune, pic credit: cckaisen on pinterest

You really were testing his patience.

From the second the two of you woke up until this very moment—you had been egging Suguru on just to pull away at the very last second. The long glances, the shameless touches, the coy laugh you throw at him when he lets out a frustrated groan, a visible tent starting to form through his sweats. It was all adding up on him where he could, quite literally, feel his rationality start to slowly slip through his fingers.

He doesn’t hide it either—in fact, he wants you to see what you’re doing to him. A part of him honestly hopes that when you see the dark stain of his precum fade into his sweats that you’ll finally break and bend to his will.

But of course you had…different plans, to say the least.

At first it was fun, getting pampered and dotted on by such a pretty little thing like you, his loving sweetheart. Feeling your nimble fingers play with his hair, his chest, his cock—of course it was going to drive him towards the point of breaking. Hell, a single touch from you at this point would probably get him to cum in his pants prematurely.

You knew what you were doing to him too—taunting the big beast with a supple treat, but right when he goes in for the kill you spring up, giving a lame excuse like shoko or gojo texting you about an emergency, and all he can do is watch as you flaunt your pretty ass to the other room with a small giggle and mischievous glance.

Such a tease.

Sure—he’s a patient man, but what you’re doing to him was just downright cruel. He can’t help but wonder how much longer you’ll play with your food, feeling his own composure slip every second you even look at him. And fuck—is that a new perfume you’re wearing today? It’s making his mind turn into mush; you’re making him turn into mush.

And yet again here you are, sittin’ pretty on your Sugu’s lap, straddling his toned waist as he rested his hands on your hips, gently rocking you to and fro—aching for more of your touch, for more of you.

“Fuck baby, need to fuck you,” he grunts, brows furrowed and veins bulging from his arms. He grits through his teeth, trying his best to restrain himself and his perverted desires of punishing you. Call him vindictive, but he’s just aching to give you a little taste of your own medicine—for his pleasure, of course. He smirks wickedly, a sinister thought coming to his mind as he quickly switches the position the two of you are in—figuratively and literally.

You yelp at his actions, the sudden change in demeanor making you feel as if you had whiplash. You feel Suguru press his clothed groin harder and faster against your pussy, as if he were trying to fuck you through his clothes. Times like these made him wish he had his friends six eyes ability, wanting to forever imprint the entirety of your pleasure filled body into his brain and see your energy build, and build, and build until you can’t do anything but release it—lost in your own desires.

You figured he’d caught on to your antics with the way he’s gripping your wrists tightly above your head, rendering you helpless to his mercy. Big doe eyes meet sharp primal ones, and like prey getting caught you feign innocence—playing with your food a bit more.

And he does not appreciate that one bit.

Suguru growls, diverting his gaze from your face by diving into the crook of your neck. He knows he’ll give in if he meets your gaze, ultimately a sucker for pleasing his pretty girl. Instead, he gives you gentle nips and licks that decorate your neck, and trails his lips to ghost over the shell of your ear, his daunting voice reverberating throughout your body “Behave. You don’t want to see the punishments I have in mind for you.”

And of course, you just had to tempt the beast—per usual.

“Shhh baby, I know,” he coos at you, soothing the skin on your soft ass. Red marks adorn your glowing cheeks after taking him so well, and suguru can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt when he sees you cringe.

But then again, he wasn’t quite sure if that was a cringe of pain or pleasure—considering he’s got you stuffed full of his cock as you lay pitifully on top of him, and fuck did it make all the teasing worth it.

“S-sugu, I ca-*hic*-can’t…n-no more,” you cry, taking in his sharp and deep thrusts with a whimper and cry. Your wrists are cuffed behind your back, helpless to your lovers ministrations. The hand that was soothing your red ass moves slowly to the small of your back to press you further into him and sink you deeper onto his cock. The groan he lets out is ravenous, and he snickers at your yelp when you take him to the hilt, remaining composed as he ignores your pleas for mercy.

You really didn’t think he’d react so strongly to some teasing as simple as this, but seeing your usually stoic boyfriend become so primal and unhinged was a sight so sacred that it made you yield to him.

You—his little firecracker—were finally under his demand, and he’d be damned if he let this opportunity slip from his fingers. He’ll make sure to take his time and draw out each and every one of those mind-numbing orgasms that Suguru and only Suguru can pull out of you, wanting to imprint this memory into your mind and show you just how mean your sugu baby can be.

“Oh yes you can, and you will,” he growls, giving you another sharp thrust that has you yelping and clenching your jaw. He smoothes the arch of your back, calming your poor, aching body—a sinful balance of dominance and praise that makes you willingly croon and comply.

His other hand surprises you by coming up towards the nape of your neck, grabbing a fistful of your hair, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. Your wince tells Suguru that your feigning innocence again, because what good girl would clench their pussy so tightly when they get their hair pulled like a common slut?

“You dug your grave, and now you’ll lie in it, pretty girl. Take your punishment nicely, or I promise it’ll be worse.”

an: if you are interested in submitting a request, make sure to check out the guidelines for requesting!! <3

As always, likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

[vagabond-umlaut]

cauterize; cicatrize

Wounds left by love are funny little things. Sometimes, they close by themselves. Sometimes, they close when singed by rejection. Other times, they heal when you scar once again, falling in love once again.

▸ ryomen sukuna x fem!reader; reincarnation au; sukuna has been reawakened in the modern era but he does not have any vessel; reader was sukuna's wife in her previous life; FLUFF, ANGST & HUMOR; grumpy!sukuna; flirty!reader; SO MUCH OF PINING & UNRESOLVED TENSION BETWEEN THESE TWO, I SWEAR!!!; brief mentions of food

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna! [note: each and every character is 18+ in this story :)]

▸ based on the ask sent by @yuujispinkhair for my milestone event. TYSM WINTER!! 🫶🫶🫶 i don't own the characters, image or divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"It's so difficult to know when the gentle flame of love becomes the harsh flame of ruin– isn't it, baby?"

Furious eyes gleam back in the shitty ceiling lights of the restaurant, the very second the waitress who served you the food earlier, lifts an eyebrow in obvious interest before looking away when you shoot her a mirror image of her expression– A very irked call of your name pulls your gaze back to your husband—

No! No! No!!

Ex-husband.

Married to you, over one thousand years back.

No longer is he your terrifying darling husband.

Sukuna stabs his food with a tad too much force than what's needed, growling, "I may not be who I was before, but, don't forget your place, calling me whatever you want, you pathetic—"

"Did I ever tell you how much of a snack you look with your two arms, baby?" you cut him off, carving a small piece of the fish and placing it in your mouth. Your eyes shut momentarily from the rich taste before opening wide again, only to find confusion etched onto your husband companion's face. You continue, ""Cause you really do look so— very, very much similar to how you were in the Heian Era. A damn delicious snack. Or, a scrumptious five course meal— depending on how much you want to indulge silly me, I guess."

Silence greets your comment— the first time in the two hours it took you to convince Sukuna, then drive him to this Thai restaurant– good heavens above, his grumbling's still The Same even after he has been reawakened a millenium later– only to be broken by a too hushed ask within the next moment.

"And what do you think of my two eyes? Are they still as lovely as my four eyes were to you?"

Fondness tugs at your heartstrings, making you want to lean over the table and claim his lips in the neediest kiss ever seen in history— your brain quickly shoves such wishes away, making you return him a fond smile instead. And murmur, "Of course, they are...— Your two big eyes and the two not-really-eyes beneath them... As lovely as red rubies."

Sukuna's look shifts into one of joy, if only for a moment, before being back to scowling once more, the same way you return to your cheeky grin as you inquire, "And what do you think, hm, of the food here? It's just the best– ain't it? Yuuji, Nobara and I discovered this hidden gem on our last mission— and when I tasted the green curry they made– I realized I absolutely had to bring you here, by hook or by crook."

"And which one was it? By hook or by crook?" the curse questions, an extremely rare smirk peeking from the corners of his frown; you don't really grasp how much you missed this sight until now– especially, in the present days, when the only emotion your past lover [and forever beloved] shows you is frustration paired with weary distaste—

You shovel some rice into your mouth to stop the far too familiar train of thoughts– you know where it'll be ending; you know it won't be. An agonizingly slow minute passes, wherein you chew the food so slowly then swallow it down, then stare at your empty bowl of rice for a nice ten seconds before mustering a chuckle.

"Of course, by crook," you reply, ignoring the way Sukuna's gaze roves over your face, then your body dressed in your oldest pair of pajamas; staring not in lust, but with something eerily similar to worry, "No one would've ever allowed me to take you out in their right minds. It's way too risky is what it is. They might even execute me if they find us out."

A beat passes in quiet with you feeling the weight of your words and the implications your actions will bear, slowly sinking into the two of you— before the hush is broken yet again. By your companion again.

Though not with a muted question, but with noisy cackles– the most melodious music you've heard in a duration far too long to your liking.

Sukuna grins, pearly white teeth with those sharp canines on display. Barking a guffaw, he asks, "You're one weak fool, letting love ruin you – aren't you, pet?"

You outstretch a hand over to the other side, dainty fingers brushing away the few grains of rice stuck to his face, then smile– mind going back to the innumerable bloodbaths, the figure before you drenched the country in— them growing in intensity after the winter, you know was your last as the Queen of Curses– given, the dates written in the scrolls on his conquests are accurate... Somehow, you know they are—

Your smile widens, digging pleasantly painful indents in your cheeks, as you retract your hand, shrugging at the stock-still image of shock across.

"What can I say, baby? Learnt to do so, from my king himself."

▸ masterlist

[n1ghtwr1ter]

At the end of my latest TLT reread and it’s been physically painful attempting to read the last 40+ pages of Nona. Like, the short shrift that Gideon/Kiriona gets given by the people in the story…the theoretical good guys who honestly only see her as a thing, as a means to an end with an inconvenient dead soul attached to it… It makes me want to rip my own heart out of my chest.

Nobody has cared about Gideon her whole life. Most people, in fact, if they remembered about her at all, went out of their way to tell her how much they wished she didn’t exist. In the final chapters of Gideon, she finally gets the thing she’s been desperate for her whole life: somebody telling her that they need her, they care that she exists, and they badly want her to go on doing it. This allows her to make peace with the prospect that at the ripe old age of 18, she needs to die so that that person can go on living and living and living, using the castrated remnants of her soul as fuel to do so. Not a great way to go, but at least Gideon would get to be useful to somebody, would get to be remembered for something.

And then she wakes up in the wrong body, and finds out that her sacrifice - her attempt to be useful in the most selfless way possible, in that her self will no longer exist - has been rejected. And not only that, but the person she tried to give herself to - the one who was supposed to care about her - went to extreme lengths to make completely sure that she no longer remembered about Gideon.

She literally cut Gideon out of her brain.

And now, drifting along in the worst sort of half life where she’s inhabiting her body but it’s no longer really hers, in very obvious fashion - there’s holes in it, her heart is missing, and it’s got her shitty father’s handprints all over it (not even touching how much of a violation that is), indelibly - she finally meets back up with the small group of people who could theoretically be relied upon to be glad to see her again.

But then the one who was supposed to care about her most tries to kiss her (massively OOC for Harrow), and turns out to not even be there - it’s some weird baby inhabiting her body, and doing a really shit job of it too. The rest of them won’t stop talking about how they need her to break into the Tomb - as if she was just another key, same as the ones they worked together to acquire in Canaan House, just bigger and more inconvenient - and/or how they both fucked and killed her mom, who also (surprise, surprise) wished that Gideon had never existed, but saw her as a thing that needed to be done for the good of the mission.

Ultimately, they all make it abundantly clear - Palamedes, Camilla, Pyrrha, and especially Nona, all these people who are supposed to be kind and good and right - that they would prefer she wasn’t there. That it just be her body, with no Gideon attached - at least not Gideon the way she is now, broken and rejected and miserable. They would all far have preferred that she not have her own inconvenient thoughts and feelings and desires and impulses - that she just be inanimate and let the important people, the grown ups, get things done.

They wish she didn’t exist. Same as everybody else in her life, save one, and now she’s left wondering whether Harrow really meant it at all. Because if she did, she wouldn’t have left Gideon to Kiriona’s fate.

And honestly? Really, truly? I know everybody in the fandom loves Pal and Cam and Nona and Pyrrha, but in the end I couldn’t give less of a shit about them. They are fucking side characters, and as intriguing as Nona has been from a worldbuilding standpoint, I ultimately resent having been forced to read 400+ pages of filler bullshit about fucking side characters. I am a butch, and I’m here for my sarcastic, loving, angry, vulnerable, forgiving, and yes, inconvenient sword butch. I’m here for Gideon. But Gideon has been fridged for the last two books of the series in which she is supposed to be a, if not the, main character.

And it feels like almost nobody else in the fandom feels the same way, which, fine. I’m used to that. I’m also used to being told I’m projecting; and I’m used to being told that I’m inconvenient too, in my thoughts and my opinions and the mere fact of my existence. I spent the first eighteen years of my life being told I was inconvenient. Yet another point of overidentification with Gideon.

But in case anybody still thinks that Nona proves that Gideon was an asshole all along, think about all of the above. Think about how it would make you feel to come back from not just death but from the erasure of your existence, something you chose in order to save the life of someone you loved, and be told that you’re inconvenient. Think about how you’d feel if you’d been told all your life that it would be better for everyone if you didn’t exist. And then tell me that Kiriona isn’t in the right and that I should give a rat’s ass what happens to literally anybody else.

It’s Kiriona Hours up in this House, butches. We’ve spent long enough caring about people who would prefer we weren’t around. For once in our entire lives we were told we were important; we were told we mattered; we were told we were the main character. We were going to, if not get the girl and save the world, at least get to do something real, something important, something like being the hero.

But that’s over now; we’re back to being wrong and bad and inconvenient thanks to the simple fact of our existence. So it’s time to embrace it. Let’s be a little shit. Let’s be kind of a dick. Let’s have our own agenda, let’s play our cards close to our heartless chest, let’s allow our circle of empathy to contract to ourselves and maybe one more person. That’s where I’m at right now. And I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

[bluginkgo]

Ep 8 Thoughts and Details Part 2

Some thoughts and details I had while watching ep8, and some parallels I found. And yes, I had to split this into 2 parts because Tumblr said "fack you, you can only upload 30 images :P"

Spoilers, duh

Didn't see part 1? Here it is, cause Tumblr doesn't like more than 30 images per post TwT

OMG YOU SILLY GOOBERS, AND THE WAY UZI INCLUDED V DESPITE V NOT EVEN WANTING TO BE PART OF IT TwT

As much as this entire scene was tense about Uzi eating the AS and becoming fused with it- this frame, this facking frame killed me XD Just the D: WHAT ARE YOU DOING- WHY DID YOU DO THAT- I could hear it clearly XD

Could probably be me looking too far into it, but another call back from Liam's first teaser of Murder Drones.

As many people as I have seen being upset with how this reunion turned out to be, I found it adorable and funny. Khan has no idea what that thing even is. And the fact that Nori isn't as cool and serious as she was made out to be in all of the flashback scenes and ep7 is that much more endearing. The angsty side of her is still there, much like Uzi's personality of not really liking close heart to heart moments.

KHAN IS NARUTO RUNNING???? XD

Originally pointed out by @/observer on twitter and absolute scoliosis lives on XD As well as the T-rex stance <:3

God forbid I love this trio. They've been through so much and still came out victorious after fighting a whole ass eldritch being capable of eating planets. V still V but softer and kinder, N still N but more willing to stand up for himself, and Uzi still Uzi and angsty rebellious teen that has an awesome new eye style and friends and family.

"Forget about all of this instantly, get tunnel visioned on spooky corpse robot reveal. Work backwards from there."

You know, I had a silly thought. I wouldn't even be mad that this is how Murder Drones came to be. That Liam's idea of Murder Drones started with the reveal of Cynessa entity and then worked backwards from there- creating the characters to surround the event instead of starting with say Uzi's personality, etc.

VIZZY MY BELOVED WHAT-

You know what... you know WHAT I SAW THIS SOMEWHERE-

Proceeds to connect the dots that aren't even there (Murder Drones Intermission by @/ghoulinfuschia)

But hey, that's what my brain loves to do. But funny how it turned out to be somewhat similar XD Perhaps the context was different but the fact that my brain said "hm, yes, you connect this here and that there." and I just rolled with it TwT

Overall, I genuinely loved the entire episode and, of course, the series. I'm eternally grateful for Liam creating this masterpiece and for every person that took part in creating Murder Drones. This show was the hyperfixation I needed, the thing that I've craved since being in the fandom that I had been for the longest time prior. I'm sad to see this show end so soon, but all great things must come to an end. And I'm glad I was here to see it, even if I was here since ep6 only TwT Either way, I will be haunting this fandom with my presence for a little longer while. Many projects I want to see happen, comics I wish to share, and friends I wish to meet. Until then, see you later >:P

Have a cookie for making it this far XD 🍪

[trickphotography2]

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 18

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 8.2k (sorry, it's a long one)

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 17 | Series Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 18

Jake grabbed the curtain surrounding his berth and tugged it into place. He had the room to himself for what felt like the first time in forever, with Rooster and Fritz finally out at the same time. Fritz was doing nighttime refueling training, and they were doing a horror movie night since it was Halloween, but Jake backed out at the last minute, saying he was tired. The look Rooster gave him let Jake know the other pilot knew he was full of shit. 

After slipping his headphones on, he pulled up his phone photo album and tapped on the protected folder, typing in the password. At the top was the video he’d requested and hadn’t had a chance to watch yet, just above the dirty photos you’d texted him on his 36th  birthday. His hand rested low on his stomach as he held the phone up and tapped to start the video.

“A bet’s a bet,” you sighed, lifting the camera to show yourself in the bathroom mirror. You wore his blue service jacket, sleeves bunched around your wrists and buttons straining against your stomach. Taking a step back, you put his cap on your head, turning to the side and smirking at the mirror. “This what you had in mind, Tex? Or…” your fingers moved to undo the buttons, and the material fell away to show your rounded stomach. 

“Fuck,” Jake breathed, palm itching to run over your skin. His own was a poor substitution as he rucked up his shirt, running his fingers along the waistband of his sweats and wishing he felt your touch. 

“Hope you don’t mind,” you purred, nuzzling the jacket collar. “But I sprayed some of your fancy cologne on this so I can pretend you’re here.” With a hand resting on your stomach, you turned back to face the mirror, and he spied the red toy between your legs. Biting back a groan, Jake remembered how the advertisement said it would hit your g-spot just right while sucking your clit.

He’d never been jealous of a hunk of silicone before. 

After 2.5 months at sea, he had a harder time remembering your rich taste on his tongue. Jake could have sworn that it was etched into his core memories, but the longer he was away from you, the harder it was to remember. But he comforted himself with the knowledge that he would have to redouble his efforts when he was home to make sure that it was permanently seared into his brain. 

He also wondered if you tasted different now that you were six months pregnant. Jake watched as you peeled his jacket back to show your breasts, his mouth watering at the sight. They were so much bigger than the last time he’d seen them. Touched them. Tasted them.

You were gorgeous. So pretty and growing big with his baby. When your hand lifted to circle your nipple before pinching it, his hand slipped into his boxers to grip his cock. He wanted it to be his touch that made you bite your lip. A smirk crossed your mouth as you slid a hand into the coat pocket and pulled out a small remote. Cocking an eyebrow, you chuckled, “So this might be one of my favorite thing you’ve … ”

The smirk fell from your mouth, replaced with a look of confusion as your hand dropped to your stomach. After tossing the remote onto the sink, you flipped the camera and propped it against the mirror, shaking back the sleeves of his jacket to press both hands to your stomach. 

“I could have…” you said softly. Jake sat up, nearly banging his head on the top bunk as he watched your expression turn to one of awe. Moving both hands to the left side of your stomach, you beamed at the camera. “Babe, I think Sloane just kicked!” 

Jake laughed, running a hand through his hair. You’d told him that you felt little flutters and small movements but had been getting worried about not feeling her move as much. Dr. Shearer had assured you that it was normal to take longer to recognize the movements in your first pregnancy, but that had done little to quiet that fear.

And now, just when Mama was about to have some fun and let Daddy see, Sloane had decided to make her presence known. 

“I, uh…” you said, brushing tears from your cheeks. “I’m gonna owe you a video because I feel awkward doing this now. Love you, babe.” When you stepped closer to the camera, he could see your chin wobbling, and his smile dropped. But you grinned, the emotion not quite meeting your eyes, and blew a kiss at the camera before turning it off. 

Jolting awake, you choked on a sob. Tears dampened your pregnancy pillow as you reached for the empty side of the bed, fingers curling in the cold sheets. 

“Fuck,” you gasped. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You forced your eyes open, afraid to close them, and slip back into sleep. 

For the last few days, you’d been having vivid dreams. At first, it had been weird but pleasant - there’d been a couple of dreams about Jake being home and setting up the nursery. Another one was hanging out at the beach with your parents. But after seeing a video on TikTok about a neighbor running to support her friend when she was notified of her husband dying in a training accident, you’d had nothing but nightmares of that very scenario.

Of sitting on the couch and reading. The doorbell ringing. Opening the door to Javy standing beside a Chaplin, tears streaking his face. Hearing him say your name softly. “I’m so sorry. He’s gone.” 

And, without fail, you would wake up when your knees hit the floor, Javy’s arms gently guiding and trying to protect you. 

After one of those dreams, you didn’t want to sleep. So, instead, you’d pace the house or go into the nursery. Your parents had sent you a gliding chair that Phoenix and Payback had moved for you, and it was becoming your unofficial second bed. Being surrounded by the things that Jake had touched - had gotten ready for your daughter - helped to soothe some of the anxiety. And while you might wake up sore and stiff from sleeping in the chair, it was better than lying awake in an empty bed. 

Lifting the arm of the pillow, you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed. A glance at your phone showed that it was after 3:00AM - three hours before your alarm was set to go off. Sighing, you stood and retreated to the bathroom, pausing to grab a sweater that Jake had left, and you’d officially stretched out too much to return to him when he got back. After spritzing his cologne on it and splashing water on your face, you grabbed your phone and walked to the nursery. 

The nightlight projected galaxies on the ceiling as you settled into the glider, hand resting on your stomach. Sloane was quiet, apparently sleeping after putting on a show for her aunt and uncles over lunch. The Daggers had dragged her to the base food court with a bribe of French Fries soaked in malt vinegar from Charlie’s. When you’d felt Sloane move, there’d been some light-hearted shoving of one another to see if they, too, could feel her. Eating with two hands on your belly was awkward, but Sloane had apparently been feeling the love. She had made sure that her family felt every wiggle and kick.

You tried not to think too hard about Jake missing all of it, but it was hard. Not only was he missing out on seeing his daughter grow, but things were getting more challenging to handle alone. Grocery shopping was a pain, as bending to get anything from a lower shelf was difficult. It seemed like you couldn’t go outside without some well-intentioned stranger giving you advice or - creepily - wanting to touch your stomach. Even taking a bath was getting harder due to the struggle of getting out of the tub, which sucked because a lukewarm one - pregnancy had robbed you of your scalding hot water - was one of the few things that helped with insomnia. 

Pulling up your phone, you scrolled through social media before flipping to the news. When it was nothing but negative stuff, you locked the screen and placed it on the window sill, folding your hands over your stomach. Forcing away the lingering images from your dream, you instead pictured Jake pacing the living room, gently bouncing Sloane. Of standing side-by-side and struggling to give her a bath in the sink. Slathering sunscreen on chubby cheeks and spending a day at the beach. 

For as much as he was missing, you thought, there was so much more that he would be there for. 

But even that thought was cold comfort tonight as an image from a previous dream of attending Jake’s funeral intruded. Tears trailed down your cheeks as you rocked, wishing Sloane would move and distract you.

But instead, it was your phone that lit up. 

I know it’s late but I just got to watch your video. You looked sexy as hell, darling. So glad you caught our little girl moving, though. Love you so much, and I’ll talk to you soon. 

The screen dimmed, and you quickly snatched up your phone to type back I love you too. The message was marked as read instantly, and three dots appeared.

You’re up early. Is everything okay?

Fingers hovering over the screen, you hesitated. And then the screen lit up again with an incoming call. Jake’s grinning face made tears spring to your eyes again. Answering it, you quickly put the call on speaker and softly said, “Hello?”

“Hey, darlin’. Why is my sleepy girl up so early?” His voice, with a gently teasing tone, made you inhale sharply. Halfway across the world, Jake sat up - again narrowly avoiding hitting his head - and frowned. The teasing was gone when he said your name. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” 

“N-nothing. Just had a nightmare,” you croaked, pausing to clear your throat. “I’m fine. We’re fine.” 

“What kind of nightmare?”

“The bad kind.” Jake’s hand flexed in his sheets, swallowing hard as he heard a plane landing overhead. He made an inquiring sound, and you tried to keep the anxiety from your voice as you asked, “You’re okay? Nothing’s wrong?”

“Me?” he sounded surprised. “Yeah, I’m fine. Is that… is that what you dreamed about?” When you hummed a response, he sighed. “Darlin’, don’t you worry about me. I’m completely fine, other than missin’ you and Sloane like crazy.” 

“You better stay that way, Jacob Michael,” you sniffled, hearing his groan. 

“Don’t cry, baby. I promise you, I’m okay. And I’m being careful.” And he was - to the extent that Rooster had made a crack about sitting on the perch during their last dog fight. But after watching a call that was too close between young pilots trying to show off, Jake wasn’t willing to take the risk. The safety briefing that afternoon had been a review of the basics. He may have accidentally, on purpose, kicked the chair of the idiot pilots when they groaned and pretended to doze, nodding and flipping a toothpick in his mouth when they turned to glare at him. If they weren’t going to take the war game dress rehearsals seriously, they would be the first ones shot down. 

He’d already talked to Mav to ensure he and Rooster were in the air with the idiots next time. A little humbling would be good for them. With his wingman watching his six, it’d be easily accomplished while keeping a safer distance. 

“You better be,” you mumbled. “How have you been?”

“Not bad,” he replied, updating you on bouncing around the Pacific. They’d steamed past the Korean coast and were headed back out to sea and would be docking in Yokosuka, Japan in a few weeks, just in time for Thanksgiving. After months on the carrier, he looked forward to standing on dry land again, especially with the promise of six days in port with liberty. 

There was silence on the other end of the line, and he wondered if you’d fallen back asleep. But then, you spoke. “Sloane’s moving. I think she can hear her daddy.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your tone was bittersweet, and he let out a breath. 

“Wish I could feel her.” 

“Me too, babe.” There was a long pause before you asked, “Do you know how much liberty you’ll have in Yokosuka?” 

“At least four days. Why? Want me to pick something up for you?” There was another long silence.

“I have a doctor’s appointment coming up.” Jake frowned at the change of topic.

“Yeah? Everything good?”

“It’s the glucose test and a check-up. But…” He heard you blow out a shuttering breath. “How would you feel about me asking if I could fly out to see you?” 

Jake grunted in pain when he hit his head on the overhead berth. Scrubbing a hand over what he knew would be a knot, he asked, “Are you serious? Would it even be safe for you to fly?” 

“I don’t know, but I can ask.”

“Darlin’ - ” Jake choked on the word, trying to hold back the wave of hope and happiness, not wanting to feel it in case the doc said it was too dangerous. “I miss you. I want you here if it’s safe.” 

“Yeah?”

“Always want you with me, darlin’.” Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he quickly swiped away the tear that slid down his cheek. He couldn’t get his hopes up that he would see his wife. That he would get to have some small part in this pregnancy. He could feel his baby move. 

“I always want you with me, too, babe.” 

Gathering your hair in one hand, you fanned the back of your neck while walking the flight line. The temperature was creeping over 70 degrees, and you were sweating while walking between the hangers with some of the mechanics. They were auditing their tools to order replacements now that the new fiscal year had begun. Already on the top of the list were new trucks for the depot. There, you’d gotten an earful on issues with the new plane towing machine, meaning you needed to call the contractor to come back and inspect it. 

Overhead, a jet flew, lowering the landing gear. Sloane moved, and you couldn’t help but smile. She was usually active when you were on the flight line, and you knew that Jake would love that fact. 

Knowing you’d see him in two weeks made things easier. When you’d broached the topic with Dr. Shearer, she’d cautioned that you were tiptoeing the edge of the safe times to travel internationally while pregnant. Generally, women were warned not to travel overseas from 28 to 35 weeks pregnant, and you’d be right at 28 weeks when you flew out. But after reviewing your labs, talking for a while, and a few tears, she’d agreed that your mental health was an important factor in allowing you to go. After giving you a list of precautions to take, including bringing a copy of your medical records in case anything happened while you were in Japan, she agreed to sign off on the trip.

However, Jake had been more cautious when you relayed the news. As excited as he was, he didn’t want to put any additional stress on you or Sloane by having you travel almost 20 hours one-way. When he’d pointed out that you’d be traveling about 40 hours for only 4 days, you’d told him to kindly shut the hell up while fighting back tears. Yes, it wouldn’t be the most comfortable time to travel, but you were frustrated with him trying to move the goalpost - Dr. Shearer cleared you, and you wanted to see him. 

“Do you even want me to come?” you demanded, unable to keep the hurt and frustration from your voice.

“Of course, darlin’. I just want to make sure that you’re okay.”

“I wasn’t aware that you became an OB in the last three months, Dr. Seresin.” He’d sighed your name at that. 

“I’m just worried about you coming all this way for just four days.”

“Worst case scenario, I go into labor there, and you actually get to see your daughter born.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Jake said. 

“Fine. But Dr. Shearer said I can go as long as I don’t have any issues between now and flying out, and as long as you’re still getting off that ship, I’m going to be there.” 

So you were taking Dr. Shearer’s advice - and requirement - to stay healthy to receive the medical clearance and for Jake’s peace of mind. As much as you wanted to go home and sleep after work, you’d started walking around the neighborhood again. Thankfully, your diabetes test had been negative. However, you were still carefully watching what you ate and made sure to cut back on how many runs you were making for salty french fries at night, no matter how much Sloane wanted them. And you’d increased your water intake, which had the added benefit of making you pee more frequently. It was inconvenient, given how often you were out on the flight line.

Blowing out a breath, you let your hair drop and shifted, feeling the familiar need to head back inside to the nearest bathroom. When Sloane shifted again, you felt a twinge in your back and dug your thumb into it. As much as you wanted to head back inside, you needed to complete the audit. One of the perks of working for the federal government was the number of holidays - and therefore days off - that occurred between September and February, but it was hell on getting contracts done. And with your due date in February, you wanted to ensure you had all your ducks in a row for when you went on maternity leave. 

But staring down a three-day weekend for Veteran’s Day, you were looking forward to relaxing away from the heat and work stress. Javy would come over on Saturday to mow the lawn, and there were tentative plans to go to a movie with Bob on Sunday. Mostly, you just wanted to relax. Insomnia was taking a toll on you, and you were ready to curl up on the couch while watching television and napping. Jake had mentioned possibly doing a video call this weekend, which would have been an added bonus.

But those plans disappeared when you turned your husband’s truck into the neighborhood and saw a strange car in your driveway. Unfortunately, it was right in front of where you needed to go to park in the garage. A peculiar sense of deja vu hit you as you stopped beside them and glanced into the passenger seat, spotting your mother-in-law. 

“Fuck,” you hissed, forcing a smile when she turned to look at you. Lifting a hand, you waved before turning off the ignition. Resting on your leg was a small, silver piece of confetti shaped like a bell - even months after the Daggers had dumped them in Jake’s truck after the wedding, you’d found one in the cab. It was almost like the universe knew that you needed some small reminder of your husband on a day like today. Shoving it into your pocket, you unbuckled yourself and reached for your work bag in the passenger seat. 

Sarah was standing outside of the truck, waiting impatiently. But the person who circled the car wasn’t who you’d expected. He was tall and slim, with brown hair that had lightened with age. The slope of his shoulders was familiar, as was the cleft in his chin. 

Even though you’d never met him, you recognized your father-in-law from the few photos Jake kept of him. 

The ready room erupted in noise as the officers were dismissed from the strategy meeting on Saturday morning. Jake closed his notebook and sat back, pressing his pen cap to his lip as he studied the whiteboard. With the war games officially kicking off in early December, the higher-ups were fine-tuning the plans and wanted updates on training. As TOPGUN instructors, Mav and Rooster were officially in charge of ensuring the pilots were up to the task, but he’d also been pulled in as an unofficial trainer. 

Jake tried not to overthink Rooster's comment a few weeks ago when they’d been talking about buying houses. Rooster had been working with a realtor in San Diego but couldn’t find anything he liked before they deployed, and his stuff was sitting in storage. And as much as Jake liked the rental, he liked the idea of owning the house you’d raise your kids in even more. If promoted to Lt. Commander, he’d probably have more leeway in ensuring they stayed in Lemoore, extending with the Vigilantes or moving to a different squadron. He knew he was due for orders in the next year or so and that he needed to update his dream sheet ASAP. 

But in his gut, Jake felt he’d get orders to PCS sooner rather than later. Cyclone had told Rooster that two instructor positions were opening in Miramar in the summer. Warlock was tasked with compiling the list of graduates he wanted to recall, and Jake was pretty sure his name was there. The WSO instructor position had already been filled. Fanboy had already texted the Dagger chat to let everyone know he was headed out West during PCS season. 

Not to mention the vague comment Mav, finally up for promotion to Rear Admiral, had made about a permanent squadron being built up at TOPGUN for specialized missions. Who knew how long it would take to establish it, but… if he was reading the signals right, it looked like there might be a move south in his future. 

Before, that wouldn’t have been an issue. Even with his first marriage, his wife had said she was ready for anything. Finding a new job in her career wasn’t an issue. And it had just been the two of them. But now? Now, it would be a bit harder for that to happen. There were only so many contracting jobs on base, and military spouses weren’t guaranteed anything. In the worst-case scenario, you could return to private contracting - there were always offices around bases. An overseas posting would be more complicated. While he knew the two of you could manage it, he knew you liked being stateside and having your parents a short plane ride away - especially with Sloane. 

As the room emptied, Jake pushed to his feet and ran a hand through his hair. Thankfully, this meeting was the last thing he had to do today for work. He already had plans to hit the barber and do laundry, and he mentally added printing out a copy of his dream sheet. With you coming in a few weeks, he knew he needed to update it ASAP. Lemoore would be his top choice, pulling the international postings. As fun as being overseas would be, he had to put his family first now. Deployments would be enough. 

Tugging down the arm of his khaki shirt - they were tighter than usual due to having nothing but time to work out - Jake couldn’t keep the smirk from his mouth as he walked the hallway back to his room. He couldn’t wait to see you in two weeks, even though he worried about you traveling. But he knew better than to voice his concerns after you’d snapped at him. So he’d done everything he could to make sure that the trip was safe. After you’d sent him the tickets you were eyeing, he’d bought them and upgraded the seat so you’d be comfortable. The last-minute tickets were expensive but absolutely worth it - you’d already agreed that this would be both of your Christmas gifts. And he’d booked a room at the Yokosuka Navy Lodge, so you’d be on base and close to the hospital if you needed anything. 

Fritz nodded at him when he stepped inside, turning his attention back to the show he was watching on his laptop. After tossing his notebook onto the small desk, Jake quickly undid the buttons of his shirt while toeing off his shoes. Once he changed into his civvies, he’d hit the barber and then go for a run. The weekend was the worst time to do laundry, but he was running out of undershirts and socks. 

The safe door clicked open when the dial reached the last number. Jake retrieved his wedding ring, swapping the black silicone band on his hand for the white gold now that he was officially off duty. It already had a couple of scratches on the metal, but he didn’t mind - just meant that time had passed since you’d slid it onto his finger four months ago. After placing the silicone band in the safe, he grabbed his phone and powered it on. It took a minute to connect to the wifi, so he shoved it into his pocket and grabbed his wallet. 

With another nod to Fritz, he stepped back into the hallway and stopped dead when he checked his phone and saw two misspelled texts you’d sent.

Prents here

U

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess,” you said, standing awkwardly in your kitchen as your in-laws looked around. You caught her critical glance at the dirty dishes in the sink - at least you’d remembered to run the dishwasher while at work - and the pillow and blanket on the couch. “Can I get you anything to drink? I have water, sparkling water, soda, juice, and milk if you’d prefer.”

“A beer,” Mark barked, his green eyes running the length of you before the corner of his mouth twitched. To his credit, he was conventionally attractive. You could see how he could attract women - traces of Jake were clearly present in his features - but you couldn’t figure out how he kept them once he opened his mouth. Placing a protective hand on your stomach, you forced a smile.

“I don’t actually have any beer,” you said. These days, the house was pretty much BYOB if people wanted alcohol while hanging out. “I’m pretty sure there’s some whiskey and rum if you’d prefer a cocktail.”

“I’ll go get some,” Sarah said softly, looking between you. Mark glanced at his wife and nodded. 

“Fine. I’ll have a sweet tea while I’m waiting.” 

“I have tea bags, but I don’t have sweet tea on hand.” 

“I can make some.” Huffing, Mark invited himself into the living room and threw the blanket on the couch onto the floor before grabbing the television remote. Taking a steeling breath, you turned to face Sarah. She straightened slightly with her husband across the house, lifting her chin as though daring you to say something. This wasn’t the woman who had paraded into your house over a year ago and called you Jake’s roommate or had made pointed comments about your wedding. 

“It’s nice to see you again. How long are you here for?” 

“The weekend. Mark wanted to meet you and make sure that you were doing alright with the deployment and…” she motioned to your stomach, fingers twitching as though she wanted to touch. Shuffling back a step, you nodded.

“Where are you staying?”

“Here,” Mark called from the living room, clearly listening in. “Where’s that tea?” Sarah walked to the pantry and started searching, ignoring your outraged expression.

“You’re staying here?” you asked. 

“No use spending money when my son’s got the room.” Mark smiled in what you assumed he meant to be a charming way but really looked sleazy and winked. “Want to keep an eye on my daughter-in-law, too.” 

Forcing your expression to remain neutral, you picked up your work bag. “I’m going to change. Make yourself comfortable.” The sarcastic remark was unnecessary, as his booted feet were kicked onto your coffee table. 

You could feel the bag vibrating against your leg as you retreated to your bedroom, loathed to leave the two unsupervised in your house but needing a moment to regroup. As soon as the door was closed, you reached into the bag and retrieved your phone, seeing that there were already four missed calls from Jake. Before you could call him back, it rang again. “What do you mean, ‘u’?” he asked as soon as you picked up. 

Tossing your bag onto the bed, you retreated to the bathroom. “Your parents are here.”

“My - ” The shock in his voice was unmistakable. “My parents are there?” 

“Your father currently has his shoes on my coffee table and wants a beer, and your mother is in the pantry making him sweet tea as a substitute until she goes out to get some.” 

There was a long silence before he spoke again, his anger barely contained. “Did he say why they came?”

“He said he wanted to keep an eye on me, and - ”

“That son of a bitch,” he snapped. You inhaled sharply, surprised at the venom in his voice. 

“Jake?”

“Put him on the phone.”

“I’m in our bathroom. Talk to me.”

“I can’t believe… how long are they staying?”

“The weekend, apparently. And they’re expecting to stay here.”

“Absolutely not. I told him he wouldn’t step foot in our house, and he waited for me to be out of the fuckin’ country to do it.” 

“You - ”

“I want you to call Coyote and get him there - now. And then you’re gonna call me back and stay on the phone until he gets there.”

“Jake, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s going on?”

“I don’t want him near you, not when I’m not there. I don’t trust him.” Taking a deep breath, you leaned against the counter and dropped your head into your hand. Unwelcome tears sprang to your eyes, but you forced your breath to be even. Right now, there was only room for one Seresin to freak out. 

“Babe, I understand you’re upset, but I don’t need Javy here to help manage this. I can - ” He hissed your name.

“You don’t know him. He’s not a good person.”

“I know that, Jake. From the little you’ve told me about him, I know that he’s an asshole and that your mother is not my biggest fan. But I need you to please take a breath and tell me the context of why you told him he wouldn’t be in our house.” Across the globe, he forced himself to take a deep breath and then another as you did the same. You heard voices in the background and then a door opening and closing. “You still there?”

“Yeah, tryin’ to find somewhere private. Hold on.” Closing your eyes, you felt the baby move. 

“Sloane’s moving,” you said softly. When he grunted a response, you sighed - clearly, he wasn’t willing to be distracted. So, instead, you moved deeper into the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain to sit on the tub's rim. Eventually, Jake spoke again.

“Darlin’?”

“Yeah?”

“Can’t wait until I’m off this goddamn ship and can get some privacy.” It was on the tip of your tongue to say that he would have that in a couple of weeks, but you stayed quiet. When you closed your eyes, you could picture him running a hand through his hair and pacing. The silence stretched, and you refused to break it. “Do you trust me?” his voice was cautious, and you blew out a breath.

“Of course I do. Jake, if you don’t want them in our home, I’ll have them leave. I just… I need to have information so I can approach this the right way.” 

“The right way is with Coyote there.”

“Why?” you demanded. “Why do I need your best friend here? Is your father going to be violent when I ask him to leave?”

“He better not be,” Jake growled. Closing your eyes, you tried to push down your frustration at him for not telling you what was happening, knowing he needed a moment to gather himself. Your husband was a man of action and instinct, and you knew his not being there to handle this personally had to be hard for him. But you were more deliberate and planned, and you wanted to approach every situation with plans and backups in place. And to do that, you needed information.

It had been like this once before when you’d had your first fight about moving in together. Jake wanted it to happen immediately, while you wanted a more established timeline. But now, unlike then, other variables were in the mix - his parents. For as little as you knew about Sarah Seresin, you had at least interacted with her a handful of times. You knew some of her quirks and how she would try to get under your skin. How she’d try to manipulate the situation. But Mark? Your father-in-law was an unknown quantity. You knew he had a temper, was a frequent cheater, and was a horrible parent who emotionally abused his son. Still, you had no data on how to interact with him.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. “Babe, please, I need you to focus because we have a situation, and I need to handle it in a minute. And to do that, I need you to be very honest with me right now about your concerns about me interacting with your father and answer a few questions for me.” Jake felt slightly annoyed when he clocked your tone - the one you used when working with a particularly difficult person. “First, why did you tell him he couldn’t step foot in our home?”

“Because he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve to know you after what he said.”

“And what did he say?” 

“I don’t - ”

“Jacob.” 

“You heard him call you a tag chaser,” he said after a moment. You nodded, remembering that phone call where you’d first heard Mark’s voice when you’d called to invite them to the wedding and let his parents know about the pregnancy. “You didn’t hear him say…he said some pretty terrible things about you.” There was a sinking feeling in your stomach, but you forced your voice to be even when you asked him to clarify. Reluctantly, he did. “He said the baby probably wasn’t mine and that you’d cheat on me the moment you had the chance if you hadn’t already. And that… that you would leave me as soon as you got tired of military life, just like my ex did.”

“I…” you stared but couldn’t speak around the lump in your throat. A confusing mixture of anger, resentment, and hurt choked you. While the rational part of your brain knew that Mark Seresin’s opinion was worth less than the dirt on the sole of your shoe, the emotional part hated that your father-in-law would believe that about you. Clearing your throat, you nodded again. “W-what are your concerns with me confronting him alone?”

“Darlin’,” Jake groaned. When you hummed, he cursed under his breath. “I never saw him hit ma, but it was close. And I don’t… I can’t have that happen. Not with you.” 

“Alright,” you said, pulling the phone from your ear and putting it on speaker. Pulling up your text thread with Javy, you quickly typed a message.

911 - Seresins here. Jake wants you here when I kick them out. Can you come?

The message was marked as read immediately, and the response came right away - OMW

“Javy’s on his way,” you sighed. “I won’t do anything until he gets here. Do I need to find a way to keep your mom away from him?” He was quiet for a long moment before sighing. 

“I…I want to say yes, but you're my priority if it’s between you and her. Fuck!” Jake pulled at his hair, hating that you were being forced to deal with the situation. “Promise me you’ll call the cops if he does anything.”

“Of course.” Swiping away a rogue tear, you cleared your throat again. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, darlin’. I’m so sorry that - ”

“This isn’t on you,” you said, toeing off your shoes. “We can handle this. I’m gonna go check the mail to make sure that the door’s open for when Javy gets here. Do you want me to call you back when - ”

“Stay on the phone.” Grabbing your shoes, you closed your eyes and pushed to your feet. “Please, darlin’, don’t hang up.”

“I won’t.” After tossing your shoes into the closet, you glanced at yourself in the mirror and quickly fixed your makeup to ensure you didn’t look like you were crying. Exiting your bedroom, you glanced at where Mark was watching TV and didn’t see Sarah anymore. A glass of sweet tea sweat on the coffee table, having ignored the stack of coasters. 

Mark’s eyes narrowed briefly before his eyebrow rose as you walked through the living room. Forcing a smile, you tilted your head toward the door. “That my son on the phone?” he asked.

“It is. He says hi.” You heard Jake snort, and Mark’s lips curled in a fake smile.

“Tell him I said hello, and he needs to call his mama more.” 

“I will. I’m gonna go grab the mail.” Their rental car wasn’t in the driveway as you walked to the mailbox, the cement warm under your bare feet. There was a box from your parents sitting on the front porch. “Did you hear that?”

“Fuckin’ asshole,” was Jake’s response. Taking a breath, you cradled the phone between your shoulder and ear while grabbing the stack of magazines and envelopes. Slowly, you walked back to the house, mentally preparing to be civil to a man you hated with every fiber of your being and nearly dropping your phone when you tried to juggle it, the mail, and the box. 

“I’m gonna put my phone in my pocket for a second,” you said. Before he could respond, you did just that and pushed the door open, leaving it unlocked. Mark watched you walk toward the kitchen and smirked.

“The yard looks like shit, and the house doesn't look much better. Your mama clearly didn’t teach you how to keep a house for your husband, but don’t worry - Sarah’ll get you right before we leave.”  

You froze, hearing Jake’s tinny voice in your pocket. The television covered the noise by the couch, as Mark didn’t seem to notice it. “Excuse me?” 

“My son obviously didn’t marry you for your housekeepin’ skills,” the older man leered, and you shifted the box to more fully cover your stomach. “But a man should be able to leave on deployment and know that his woman’s takin’ care of his home. Sarah knew that, and she’ll make sure you learn.” 

“I’ll have you know that I was also raised in the military, so I’m not a civilian going through their first deployment. I know how this works because my dad deployed a lot when I was growing up, and it was just my mom and me,” you snapped without thinking. “And my house is not perfect, but I had no idea I’d have guests coming, I work full time, and I’m pregnant. So when it comes to dividing my time, I will pick my career and take care of myself over doing housework, especially when I’m mostly here by myself. And Jake knew how I cleaned before we got married.” 

Turning your back on the man, you stormed toward the kitchen and slammed the box onto the counter, the mail falling to the floor. Jake was talking as you bent to retrieve the post, hand sliding into your pocket to retrieve the phone. “You’ve got more fire than the last tag chaser, I’ll give ya that.” Mark leaned against the wall, grinning down at you. Grasping the counter's edge, you pulled yourself to your feet and tossed envelopes next to the box, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I am not, and never have been, a tag chaser, so I’d appreciate it if you stopped calling me that. If anything, I married your son despite him being in the military.”

“Is that right?” he asked, pushing off the wall.

“Tricare’s just not worth it,” you shrugged. 

“You got a smart mouth on you, you know that?” That Texas drawl you found so charming on your husband made your skin crawl as he stepped closer. 

“It’s one of the things Jake loves about me.” The counter dug into your back as he moved into your personal space. 

“Your daddy shoulda tanned your hide for that and taught you some manners.” 

“We’ll agree to disagree on that.” When you tried to push past him, his hand shot out and wrapped around your upper arm, pulling you to a stop. Glancing at it, you forced your eyes up to meet his angry green gaze and felt a shot of fear go through you. “Take your hand off of me. Now.” You could clearly hear Jake yelling in the quiet kitchen, but the words were muffled. Mark glanced down at your leg. “I didn’t get a chance to hang up, so Jake’s heard all this.”

Sneering, the elder Seresin chuckled. “An’ what’s he gonna do for you when you’re here all alone? Clearly, you need a man to teach you a lesson, and if my son isn’t up to the task - ” 

When his hand rose, you lifted your chin as you wrenched yourself out of his grasp. “Do it and pull back a bloody stump,” you hissed. Adrenaline flooded your system, and anger at him daring to threaten you in your own home overrode any fear. “I’ll make sure you spend the nice, long holiday weekend in jail, and I’m pretty sure those assault charges would have more consequences since I’m pregnant.” 

“You little bit - ”

There was a knock at the front door, and you refused to take your eyes off the man in front of you as you yelled, “Come in!” You heard Javy call your name. “We’re in the kitchen.” 

Mark lowered his hands when he heard Javy’s quick footsteps, and he paused in the doorway. “Everything alright?” he demanded, glancing between you. 

“Everything’s fine,” you replied, keeping your voice even. “He was just going to wait outside for his wife to come back and then find a hotel for the weekend.”

“You can’t kick me out of my son’s house,” Mark snapped. Javy quickly moved to stand beside you, and you smiled sweetly.

“This is my house just as much as it’s Jake’s. And if you don’t leave, I’ll call the police and have them remove you.” 

“Let’s not get the cops involved if we don’t have to,” Javy said, attempting to play the peacekeeper. “Mr. Se - ”

“Chief Petty Officer Seresin, to you, boy.” At that, Javy’s eyes flashed, and his shoulders pulled back.

“Then it’s Lieutenant Machado to you. Now, she said to get out, so let’s go.” When Mark raised his hand again to point in your face, Javy stepped between you. “Back up.”

“You and my pussy of a son deserve each other.”

“Get. The fuck. Out of my house,” you ordered through clenched teeth, your palm itching to slap the man. Smirking, he took a step back and spit on the floor. Javy moved fast, grabbing the older man by the collar and walking him out of the kitchen and toward the door.

Ears ringing, you were unable to hear the words the two exchanged. The door slammed shut, seeming to shake the walls, and then Javy was back. “You okay?” he asked, pulling you into his arms. Shaking, you leaned into him, fingers digging into his back. 

“I’m okay,” you breathed, unable to keep tears from falling. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“Jake texted me.”

“Jake!” you sobbed, quickly pulling away and reaching for your phone. You could feel that you were starting to get light-headed, and the room spun, so you grabbed Javy’s arm, using it to help you onto the floor. Leaning back against the cabinet, you brought the phone up to your ear and heard your husband’s ragged breathing. “Jake?”

“Fuck, darlin’, are you okay?” he demanded. 

“I’m okay,” you answered. Looking up at Javy, you mouthed the word ‘water.’ He nodded and quickly grabbed a glass from over your head. 

“I can’t believe that fuckin’ asshole touched you. I’m gonna kill him.”

“I’m okay,” you repeated, hearing how worked up he was getting. Putting the phone on speaker, you accepted the water Javy handed you and mouthed your thanks. Forcing yourself to take slow sips, you could feel the room stop spinning. Crouching down in front of you, Javy studied your face.

“She’s a little pale but looks good, Hangman.”

“Jesus, Javy - I…” Jake seemed to choke on his words. “Thank you, man. I - ”

“No thanks necessary; I'm just glad you texted me. Payback’s outside keeping an eye on the situation.” 

“Reuben’s here?” you asked.

“We were at the bar when I got the texts. Pheonix and Bob are en route.” As if on cue, there was a knocking on the door before it opened. 

“Just me!” Nat called. Javy stood, glancing at the other pilot when she entered the kitchen. “All clear?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You mind staying here while I go back up Payback?”

“Bob’s five minutes out,” she said. Her gaze drifted to you. “You want to go get checked out?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Jake grunted in frustration. “Go get checked out, darlin’. Make sure you and Sloane are okay.”

“I’m fine,” you countered. “The worst I’ll have is a bruise on my arm. He didn’t touch me.”

“If he left a bruise, he did,” Jake countered. “Please, darlin’? For me?”

“But…” you sniffled, hearing his noise of concern. “But what if they tell me I can’t come see you?” He breathed your name, and you hung your head.

“I’d rather know that you and Sloane will be okay than see you in two weeks. That’s all that matters.” Tears streamed down your face as you silently cursed your in-laws. 

“Fine,” you whispered.

“I’ll take you,” Nat offered, and you nodded. 

Two hours later, you sat on the couch between Bob and Payback, a mug of ice cream settled on your stomach. Urgent Care had quickly cleared you but cautioned against any more stress when you’d admitted to feeling faint.

Jake had made you promise to call him back during the exam, and Nat had held the phone for you. Only after hearing Sloane’s strong heartbeat did he feel comfortable hanging up. 

By the time you’d gotten back, the Seresins were gone. When the Daggers made it clear that they wouldn’t leave you alone that night, you quickly ordered some pizzas while Javy ran home to pack an overnight bag, and Payback went to pick up some beers. When you’d tried to pick up the house a bit, Bob and Nat had made you sit on the couch and relax, keeping your feet elevated like the PA had told you to. 

After midnight, you woke to the hushed sounds of the aviators getting ready to leave. You hugged Nat, Reuben, and Bob before they left while Javy cleaned up the kitchen and took out the trash.  

“You don’t have to do that,” you yawned when he came back into the kitchen through the garage. 

“It’s no problem. I’m gonna crash in the spare bedroom if that’s cool.” 

“It’s all yours. And thanks, again, for everything this afternoon.” 

Javy shrugged, a sad smile tugging at his mouth before he turned to wash his hands. “I’m always gonna have your back. Chief Petty Officer Seresin” - his tone was mocking - “has been an asshole since I’ve known him. But you and Jake don’t deserve that.” 

Rather than respond, you waited for him to finish before hugging him. “I’m glad you got stuck with Jake at the Academy. And that you put up with him for this long.” 

“It has not been easy,” he chuckled. 

“At least you’re getting a goddaughter out of it.” He stiffened in your embrace, and you did as well. 

“I’m what?” 

“Please tell me that Jake has already had that conversation with you.” 

“I’m gonna be her godfather?” 

Groaning, you stepped back and buried your face in your hands. “Ignore what I said. Please - I didn’t… Jake was supposed to talk to you about this WEEKS ago!” 

“I’m gonna be a godfather!” Javy crowed, wiggling his shoulders in a celebratory dance. 

“You have to pretend I didn’t say anything when he asks you,” you begged. When his hands hovered over your stomach, you smiled and guided them to where Sloane was moving. 

“Hey, baby girl, it’s your Uncle Coyote. Gonna be the best godfather ever,” he promised. 

This time, the tears that slipped down your cheeks were from happiness and gratitude for the family that Jake had already given you. 

----------------------------------------------

Author's Note: I am SO SORRY for the delay in updating this story. I got very caught up in my other Jake fic ('tis the damn season) which is set around Christmas. Jake and Darlin' unfortunately took a back seat. However, it gave me some time to mentally rework the chapter, as it - and the story as a whole - originally didn't include any Darlin' going to visit Jake, but just focused on the interaction with her in-laws. As always, thank you to @mamachasesmayhem for letting me bounce ideas off of her during the writing process.

And now you've met CPO Seresin, who is a piece of work... (in my experience) veterans who want to continue to be addressed by their rank tend to be. A couple military terms were used in this chapter - PCS is Permanent Change of Station, where you move bases; PCS season is usually in the summer. Generally, you PCS every 2-4 years -- the longest we ever stayed somewhere was 5 when Dad was able to extend. Due to the constant change, it is very hard for military spouses to build their own careers. One of my best friend's husband left the Air Force because she refused to prioritize his career over hers (she works in fashion, and he now works in finance), and my other best friend's husband also left when she became a director in her company. My mom wasn't able to have a career until my dad retired after 26 years.

Tricare is the military health insurance. Dream sheets are the list of bases that you'd like to be stationed at. The military will look at the list and where there's need, and then let you know where you're going. You are not guaranteed a base on your dream sheet, and it's important to keep them updated. My parents forgot to redo the international one, which is how we ended up moving from Japan to Spain when my parents were ready to come stateside.

Thank you so much for being patient with me updating - I appreciate you 🥺

Read Jake's POV of this chapter

Tag list: @mamachasesmayhem; @memeorydotcom; @alldaysdreamers; @kmc1989; @djs8891; @caitsymichelle13; @dempy; @midnightmagpiemama; @lovelyladymayyyy; @caidi-paris; @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby; @bellaireland1981; @lethargicluv; @tenderclio; @lucypaulette; @abaker74; @trhett21; @misshoneypaper; @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker; @eternallyvenus; @mavrellover91; @chloeforde; @thatbitcily; @rest-of-brazilian-wax; @percysaidnever; @harperdoodle; @hardballoonlove; @maeleeme; @emma8895eb; @xoxabs88xox; @queenslandlover-93; @memoriesat30; @queerqueenlynn; @capswife; @regsg18; @boisewaffles; @fudge13; @starkleila

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In Plain Sight, Ch 1: Docile Pyre

summary: nathan tries his best to wade through the sea of feelings you’ve brought up in him. he’s kinda shitty to you while doing it.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: this entire series is 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, nathan is a pining asshole, reader is so competent and cool

wc: 2,200

AN: BE NICE TO ME PLEASE GOD. i don’t know where this came from. on christmas eve morning, nathan bateman himself walked into my apartment and made me write this. who am i to argue with a man who looks like oscar issac?

in plain sight masterlist | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Nathan learned quickly that his usual backhanded compliments and intelligent snarkiness don’t work for you. You don’t care enough to let him get under your skin, don’t care enough to be baited into an argument. It gets under his skin.

You make him sick. Sick in a way he’d never felt before. He thought he was the epitome of unbothered and unchanged until he met you. He feels like a fucking teenage boy, wiping his sweaty palms and reminding himself that he’s in control. He’s the boss. So why does his heart flutter when you look him in the eyes so intently as he gives you task after task to do?

You never complain. You never say much at all. He wishes that you would say something. That you would lash out or fight back— give him something. He wants to see you.

But you’re prim and perfect. All “yes sir” and “no sir”. Mr. Bateman this and Mr. Bateman that. No one calls him Mr. Bateman. It’s fucking silly, the way it affects him when you do. You handle each task he gives you with ease— even when he has you calling the most difficult of his colleagues. In meetings, they mention how charming you are, sweet and charismatic. Nathan doesn’t even get that. For someone who’s all about AI, blank stares, and obedient droids, your likeness to them is driving him crazy. He knows that you’re a person with emotions, desires, and opinions. So he picks and picks and picks, hoping that one day you’ll break.

Why won’t you show him? Why does he care so much? Why is he completely enamored with you anyway?

Being around you starts to confuse him. Nathan hates that feeling. He likes to be the smartest in the room— he needs it or he starts to feel small. Like he’s that little boy he was all those years ago, staring up into the angry eyes of his parents as they spew insults at him. But, he can’t seem to find a balance when he’s around you, he hates the feelings you invoke but can’t seem to work himself out of the tangled mess in his heart. Before you, he was sure that he didn’t have one anymore.

“Can you work overtime tonight? I need all of this sorted and filed,” He gestures to stack upon stack of paperwork in the corner of his lab.

“I just need to make a call, sir.”

Nathan knows that you have a life outside of him and this job— any normal person would. But, he’s not normal, is he? It reminds him that despite these harbored feelings, he’s not compatible with you. You deserve someone normal. Maybe that’s who you need to call, maybe you already have someone. Jealousy courses through his veins.

He raises a brow at you, his voice cool, “A call? You have something more important to do than your job?”

You give him no information. Just a polite smile as you head towards the door, “I’ll just be a moment, sir.”

Nathan pretends to tinker around with his synthetic brains and limbs and skin until you’re finished filing. He thought it’d take longer, but you finish in a couple of hours. He’s always impressed with you and your performance but it goes sour the moment you reach for your bag.

“If that’s all Mr. Bateman, I’ll see you at 9 a.m.”

“Wait,” He says, trying to prolong your time together, trying to see if you’ll give him any sort of reaction if he gives you more work. But no. You turn to him with ease, a polite and expectant look on your face. He gives up. “I’ll send you a grocery list. You can be here at 10 a.m.”

“10 a.m.,” You repeat with a soft nod.

Then Nathan’s all alone again. He heads into his bedroom, opening one of the closets. He needs to get lost for a while. He needs you off his mind.

—

Nathan tries. He really tries not to watch you so closely. He tries to distance himself from you. He stops giving you the tasks he used to give you just to hopefully piss you off. His attempts are useless though. The only thing that could keep him from watching you is firing you. He doesn’t have control, he feels powerless in the face of your docile stare.

He starts to notice things. That your hair is a little out of place. That your clothes aren’t as crisp and clean as usual. He sees the bags under your eyes. He sees you sleeping during your lunch break instead of eating. Your work doesn’t suffer and neither does your attitude but the subtle light in your eyes gets dimmer and dimmer as time wanes on.

Nathan had wanted to see you, sure, but he didn’t want to see you like this. Something’s wrong. He’s not sure has the courage to ask you about it. He feels guilty when he has to ask you to work late on a Thursday afternoon. It feels like it’s festering inside him and he almost forgoes asking. It gets what he’s wanted for months and months on end. You finally crack.

“Hey, I need you to work late tonight,” He murmurs, more gently than he’s spoken to anyone…ever. Fuck, you make him soft. It’s disgusting. It’s unfair. It’s blasphemy.

You continue to type when you respond, “I can’t, sir.”

Nathan freezes, unsure if he’s just heard you correctly. “Excuse me?”

You inhale a soft breath, your gaze airing on slightly apologetic, “I said that I can’t. I can’t work late tonight, Mr. Bateman, I’m sorry.”

“And why not?”

“I’m not sure that that’s any of your business. Sir,” You add respectfully.

“Any of my business?” He repeats, incredulous.

“Yes, sir.”

He stares at you for a handful of seconds, weighing his options. The tasks he wants to give you could wait until more— he’s simply impatient. But, he’s got buy-in now with your disagreement and secrecy. He could push…and he does. “I didn’t ask, I ordered. I need you here for a few more hours.”

It works. For the first time since you started working for him a little under a year ago, you finally show him something. You’re angry, he can tell by the way your brows knit together and your mouth twists. It thrills him.

You stew for a few beats, no doubt deciding if you should voice your rebuttal or go on as usual. Nathan watches you eagerly, hoping of course for the latter. It doesn’t come. Instead—

You close your eyes, growing statuesque. Nathan can only tell you’re still breathing because of how close he is, and how intensely he’s watching you. You open your eyes after a moment and say easily, “Then I need to make a call. It’ll just be a moment, sir.

You work diligently that night, finishing up in just half the time he suggested. He’s almost tempted to give you more, but he knows that would just make things worse. Despite your cool collected manner, the air in the room feels heavier, the energy shifted. He knows he’s fucked up. And if he wasn’t sure, he is when you get up to leave without your usual goodbye or so much of a glance at him.

It’s only after you’ve gone that Nathan takes a good look at his calendar. It’s New Year's Eve. He’d made you stay late on New Year's Eve. That guilt from before rears its ugly head, more gut-wrenching than before. He makes his way to the kitchen to drink it away. It’s replaced with alcohol, hot jealousy, and a hint of sadness. You’d had plans for New Year's Eve. You weren’t going to be lonely like him, if you still made it to those.

Fuck and who were they with? Some guy? Some woman? Did it matter? Not really. The only thing that mattered is that you opened up to them. You show them who you are. Nathan sits hunched over on the couch, bottle in hand staring into the fire.

No, I’m not sorry, he thinks drunkenly to himself. If keeping you late kept you with him and away from whoever was in your life then he wasn’t sorry. He was selfish and unkind, but not sorry. Assholes like him don’t get to be sorry. He’d be a monster that would keep you as long as he could in any way that he could.

—

When you come in on the second, you look exhausted despite the day off. It almost sets him off, but he’d spent most of yesterday thinking about you. The drinking had taken away his guilt, his jealousy, or that unworthy feeling he’s been running from all his life. You…well you make him want to face. Dig to the root of it and cast it out of himself, but he knows he’s not strong enough. The most he can do right is an apology.

Nathan comes to sit on the edge of your desk, blocking the screen so you have to look up at him. “Hey.”

You look up at him with those soft, tired eyes. “Yes?”

He shifts, scratching the bare patch atop his head awkwardly, “I uh— the other night, it was shitty of me to make you work late on New Year’s Eve.”

“I made it work, sir.”

Fuck him, you’re making this hard. His silly little anger about your disposition isn’t justified, he realized that when he sobered up yesterday but he feels ready to explode with it. Spending New Year’s Day alone had never bothered him until yesterday. He had never himself alone, given his bots, until you. You’re screwing with his head, making it all fucky.

“Mr. Bateman?”

A small shiver runs down his spine. He nods, clapping his hands together before hopping off your desk. He needs space and air. “It won’t happen again. On any holiday.”

You fix him with a polite smile, nodding, “Sure.”

Nathan avoids you as much as he can for the rest of the day. Maybe that’s his only option now. He knows that there’s no point in fighting this. Once he feels a certain way it might as well be set in stone. It’s hard to accept that. Even if it wasn’t, he doesn’t want to.

He runs into you on his way out, and before he can think better of it, he’s talking, “Hey, wait up one second.”

“I can stay late, it’s not a problem,” You say mechanically.

“No, I’m not— fuck I’m not asking you to stay late again. I’m an asshole but Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Did I make a mistake then, sir?”

He can’t help himself— he laughs. It dissolves into a maniacal giggle, his hands rubbing at his eyes. “Fuck’s sake. No, sweetheart, you didn’t make a mistake. What I meant to say earlier was I shouldn’t have made you work late on New Year’s Eve. I shouldn’t make you work so late any day, I don’t know your life, I don’t know you.”

“Alright.”

“And what I mean by that is— you know that this is me saying sorry? Right?”

“Yes, Mr. Bateman, I understand what you’re saying completely.”

“Great. Well?”

You tilt your head at him— it’s almost unsettling. “Well?”

“Usually someone apologizes, says it won’t happen again, and then the other thanks them. Accepts the apology. All that jazz. That’s how it works in the movies at least if I’m not mistaken,” He grins, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Yes, sir, I know how apologies work.”

He nods his head at you expectantly, “Then it’s your turn.”

You do that thing again from the other night, where you go so still you could be made from stone. He watches you with curious eyes, and when your gaze meets his, he can see it— the fire. He’s cracked you again. This time he hopes for a better result.

Shoulders squared, clutching your bag tightly over your shoulder you say, “With all due respect and complete honesty, Mr. Bateman, I don’t accept. I don’t care to. While I appreciate your attempt, none of what you said was a true apology. That almost means that well, there was nothing for me to accept. I’ll see you at 7 a.m., sir.”

Nathan watches you leave, his mouth slightly agape. You had just, so politely and succinctly told him off. He feels like his world has been turned upside down like he’s been bitten by a snake he was told wasn’t poisonous. And he wants to be bitten again. Again and again, he wants to stoke that fire in you until it’s an uncontrollable rage. A forest fire with no end in sight. He wants to be engulfed in it, willing and ready to suffer the burns of handling you. Where he’d been prepared to give up on you after apologizing— okay with sacrificing you to someone who might actually have a chance at deserving you— he refuses to now.

This feels like a challenge. You want him to be better? He’ll do it. He’d do anything for you. And he will.

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @faretheeoscar, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @kotaropuppy

[starglow-xx]

— Oh Baby!

part 2! - a solution? sure, let’s call it that

heartslabyul & savanaclaw x f! reader

synopsis: when the boys of heartslabyul and savanaclaw get turned to kids, who else is supposed to take of them except their beloved prefect? go figure. damn you crowley. oh, and you too grim.

fandom: twisted wonderland

type of work: part of mini series! : “Oh Baby!” ; written segment, fluff / platonic themes, comedy? ; check out pt. 1 here!

warnings: a stressed prefect pt. 2, unedited

a/n: YALL it’s been a year since i posted the first part to this and obviously since then i’ve completed the books for octavinelle, scarabia, and pomefiore, so maybe they’ll have future appearances later hehe but no promises

“you’re telling me you don’t know how to fix this?!” you whisper yelled.

“that’s what i said was it not?”

you wanted to scream in frustration at the headmaster but refrained yourself from doing so as your newly turned baby friends were oh so peacefully playing in the common room as you and crowley talked in the kitchen, and didn’t want to draw attention.

“loosey duecey! loosey duecey! loosey duecey! loosey duecey!”

“shut up!”

maybe peacefully was too good of a word in this situation.

“WELL THEN! it seems that i am no longer needed so i will take my leave—”

“get the hell back here for seven’s sake! and didn’t i tell you to keep your voice down?!”

“but—”

“shut up! if you won’t help me solve my problem then don’t speak at all!” you continued to whisper yell.

“...”

“seriously?!”

with strength that you usually save for rounding up ace, deuce, and grim (on normal circumstances), you grab the stupid headmaster by the back of his cloak thing as he turns away from you to make his escape.

“oh no you don’t!”

the bird for brains had the audacity to sigh at you like he was the one inconvenienced with 8 children. 8 actual children.

“ms. prefect, you must understand, that despite how gracious i am, i simply do not have time for—”

“i’ll go on strike if you don’t help me!”

“...come again?”

you sweatdrop as you let go of his cloak. you didn’t really think the whole thing through, it kind of just came out of you mouth, but it seemed to get his attention so you’re going to have to role with it dammit.

“t-that’s right!”

you cursed in your head slightly as you stammer. there’s no turning back!

“i’ll for once since i’ve gotten here be an normal student! so that means no cleaning after your messes, doing chores that shouldn’t be my responsibility, fighting stupid overblots blah blah blah, you get the picture?”, you threaten.

crowley is silent as he contemplates your words.

“and no, holding housing or allowance over my head is not going to work, because i will literally get myself adopted by another dorm or so help me.”

at that, crowley sighs once again, but this time in defeat at the teenage girl in front of him.

“all right, i’ll go work with the staff to try and figure something out.”

phew.

“however!”

god dammit you can never win can you.

crowley with a stern voice as he wags one of his fingers shatters your hopes and dreams with a simple, “the children must stay here!”

you couldn’t believe your ears, and started to yell, forgetting about whisper yelling.

“what?! why?! i’m asking for help with them because i can’t handle it!”

he simply raises an eyebrow at you.

“do you think it’ll be beneficial and efficient to have the children running around potions and stacks of books while we try and find their cure?”

you sigh, disappointed but not surprised at his rebuttal.

“...no sir”

“great! i guess we’re on the same page after all! i wish you the best of luck prefect, for i am gracious.”

you deadpan.

“right of course. whatever would i do without your help headmaster”

“oh you’d probably perish!”

“that was sarcasm”

ignoring your retort, the man dramatically swished his coat cape thing nearly whacking you in the face (you’re 98% sure it was on purpose) as you feel a migraine start coming on, and the you 15 minutes ago wouldn’t believe it wasn’t because of the children.

after a deep sigh, you follow after crowley reentering what grim dubbed as the “danger zone” only to catch the evasive headmaster walk out the door and shut it behind them.

from where you’re standing, you hear grim, who’s awake now, but still lying on the floor, mumble something along the lines of “useless” and you couldn’t agree more.

you eye the handful of children running around and yelling at each other.

oh great seven, this is going to be one hell of a migraine.

i love their shenanigans <33

as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate on here or any other sites!

[scoobydoodean]

ok so I deeply love and respect your thoughts on supernatural because the majority of them line up with what I've been thinking for years but you said something the other day that I keep turning over in my brain and it was something along the lines of carver liking dean more than sam - I know you're in the middle of rewatching s4 but I would love to hear you expound on that (if you have time) because I remember being in the fandom while carvernatural was airing and it was pretty much when the deangirl exodus started. in fact I think people tore into him worse than dabb even 😭

feel free to hold onto this until later when you start the carver seasons if you wish :)

<3 I'll go ahead and answer this one, because it's more of a "broad strokes" thing for me, and I've been rewatching very slowly (on purpose) so that could be a very long wait.

This is so funny because I can just picture Sam fans reading it and turning red and their blood boiling with the fire of a thousand suns but the TL;DR is that season 8-11 (Carver era) broad strokes to me are:

Sam sucks and is a worse brother and person than Dean.

Sam spends the first two seasons of Carver's run thinking he's a better person than Dean anyway and then the second two knowing he sucks, deciding to embrace his moral flexibility to keep Dean alive no matter the cost, and trying to mend things.

Dean is circled by many potential suitors who also in a sense represent Sam replacements because Sam sucks: Benny, Cas, Crowley, and Amara.

Dean knows that Sam sucks and part of him wants to get tf away from him very badly but another part of him feels guilty for wanting that. Family is suffering. Family is a chain around your neck keeping you tied to them via guilt. (Demon Dean represents the desire for escape, as does Amara).

Everybody wants to be with Dean, be Dean, and/or be loved by Dean. Dean is love. Dean is the world. Dean is the reason for existing. Everybody is lovesick about him. Sam is just there.

Sam needs to stop blaming Dean for so many things and learn to own his own choices.

That was fun to write down.

Longer commentary/explanation below the cut.

Season 8 (Carver's first season) literally begins with a Sam character assassination. It begins with us learning that Sam knowingly left Kevin to spend the rest of his life kidnapped and tortured without even telling a soul what happened to him. Not only did he abandon Dean and Cas as well but he didn't even look for them, and refuses to give a satisfying answer as to why.

Season 8 Sam's abandonment as distinct from previous behavior

I have had people this year who I love and respect tell me they don't view this as a character assassination and say they believe this is in character for Sam. I simply do not agree with that. I talk about this as it relates to Kevin here.

Sam has displayed selfishness and a big ego at many points in the series up to season 8. He's told a lot of lies (sometimes to the point of gaslighting), he's gone behind Dean's back to do things that affect Dean's life, he's taken traumatic experiences Dean opened up to him about and ultimately harmed Dean with them, he's shown resentments and anger, he's displayed jealousy, he's displayed a sense of superiority. He has never abandoned his brother to die without even trying. The Sam of season 3 would eviscerate season 8 Sam for this.

Sometimes Sam says and does things he shouldn't, but his crimes do not include "abandoning Dean to die without even looking for him" up to season 8. Many of his crimes happen at least partly because he really really doesn't want Dean to die or is desperate to save his life. He lets go of his anger at John and returns to make sure Dean is safe in 1.11. He refuses to give up and finds a way to save Dean in 1.12. In 1.22, he's willing to put John's life at risk for revenge, but in 2.01 he gets into an outright screaming match with John in the hospital under the belief that John's prioritizing the demon over Dean. Sam spends all of season 3 raging and angst-ing about not being able to save Dean to the point of considering and doing some shady as hell things/abandoning some of his more stalwart moral stances (3.05, 3.11, 3.15, 3.16). Dean's death and later, the desire to secure his safety/future, is one of the catalysts for Sam's descent into drinking demon blood (3.09, 3.16, 4.04, 4.09, 4.12). When he dies in "Swan Song", he urges Dean to pursue a normal, safe, life because he knows that at that point in time, Dean wants to get out but has always felt trapped (2.09, 2.10, 2.20, 3.01, 4.12, 4.16). Even Soulless Sam (who isn't the same as regular Sam) tried to look for Dean in 6.09 "Clap Your Hands If You Believe"—it was simply that when leads for the night dried up, he hooked up with someone because he had nothing more to go on and in soulless Sam's head that was the reasonable thing to do. But soulless Sam also certainly isn't representative of the real Sam—the fact that he doesn't care as much is supposed to point us to differences between him and regular Sam. Season 8 opens with Sam abandoning Dean in a context that makes him arguably worse than his soulless self.

(I talk about why Sam actually abandons everyone in season 8 in a very long post here).

Season 8 and 9 more broadly

So Carver has Sam abandon Dean to die without even trying. Then he has Sam refuse to give any kind of actually reasonable explanation that makes sense to anyone who was paying attention. Then he has Sam say that he's going to leave the life and Dean needs to get over it and accept that Sam's new life will not include contact with Dean (just like his life at Stanford didn't). While saying he's going to leave, he still wants to exert control over Dean's relationships and leverages the threat of leaving (as if he were going to stay) to get Dean to shut up about Sam abandoning him and then again to try and get Dean to cut ties with Benny. He wants to kill Benny before knowing a single thing about him. He assigns someone (Martin) who he knows is mentally unstable and has a more black and white perception of monsters to track Benny and gets Martin killed. He watches Martin knock Dean unconscious and chain him up in a room and doesn't stop it because he wants Benny dead that bad, but then has the audacity to act as if Dean sending him a fake text is worse than Sam literally chaining him up in a room to prevent Sam from killing an innocent person (someone Sam would normally—btw—defend based on episodes like 2.03 and 4.04 or even a few episodes ago with Kate in "Bitten"). He tells Amelia he wants to fight for their relationship then the moment Dan says they should leave the choice to Amelia, he leaves so that it becomes his choice, and then he returns for one episode just to be a homewrecker. He insists on doing The Trials while promising to survive them and giving a big speech about how he's going to save Dean from his own suicidal ideation and then drops the promise as if it never existed two episodes later. Sam loses confidence in himself to complete The Trials and then acts like Dean is the one who doesn't believe in him because Dean is caring for him and insisting he rest and this is an unforgivable offense. At the end of the season, he basically says he's going to commit suicide because Dean has friends besides him. He acts as if he deserves to be Dean's most trusted confidant after an entire season of him being an absolutely fucking terrible brother and acts like Dean is just a big meanie whose feelings are irrational.

After all of this, he has the audacity, in season 9, to suggest that Dean is a bad person who can't stand the thought of being alone. He tells Dean he's the worst person ever and they can only be work partners from now on because Dean is so so bad and evil for stopping him from committing suicide and then not telling him about Gadreel. At the end of the season he admits this was a lie. He just wanted to punish Dean (9.23).

I can see how—if you were watching live at the time (I started watching when season 11 was airing) you'd lose hope. You'd quit the show over all of this, because it seems to go on forever. It's like torture. I would drop kick season 8 Sam into a pit full of lava without hesitation so I get it. If I believed that Carver was actually saying "Yes so true Dean is The Worst™️ and Sam is morally superior <3" for two seasons straight I'd quit the show too. But that isn't what he's saying. We're supposed to read between the lines and realize how unbelievably full of shit Sam is—how deeply selfish and hypocritical he's being. How yes—Dean has made mistakes—but Sam is NOT a better person than him and has gotten away with some absolutely rancid garbage. And season 10 and 11 go on to beat you over the head with it if you didn't get it the first time.

Season 10 and 11

Season 10 opens with this dialogue from a demon:

I heard the rumors. I said "no, that can't be." A Winchester, one of us? But it's true, isn't it? Whatever soul you had; whatever boy scout code you cuddled up to at night; it's all gone. Leaving what? Look at you!

We're meant to think she's talking about Dean who just woke up with black eyes, but then the camera cuts to Sam torturing her, demanding to know where Dean is.

In 10.03, we learn that Sam talked a man (Lester) into selling his soul so he could use him as bait. Demon Dean ends up being assigned to fulfill Lester's deal (to kill his wife for cheating on him). Dean immediately clocks Lester as having cheated on her first and kills Lester for being an insufferable hypocrite... and while he's doing it, I'm pretty sure he's also thinking of Sam's flaming hypocrisy.

SAM: I never meant— DEMON DEAN: Who cares what you meant?! That line that we thought was so clear between us and the things that we hunted, ain’t so clear is it? Wow. You might actually be worse than me! I mean, you took a guy at his lowest, used him, and it cost him his life and his soul. Nice work.

NOTE: 10.03 also recalls 4.21—an episode Sam fans have always tended to emphasize as a "Dean crime" episode where Dean risks Sam's death to force a detox. Sam does the reverse—pumping Dean full of human blood here in 10.03 and explicitly risking his death.

Sam gets Suzie killed in "The Werther Project" while searching for The Book of the Damned.

SAM I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry. SUZIE Lot of good “sorry” does me. Look at me. Look….at….me. [She points to her corpse.] There she is. The first casualty of your misguided mission. But what’s another human life to you? Anything’s worth it, as long as you two make it out alive. And how’s that search going? Any closer to a cure? SAM This isn’t real. You’re not real. SUZIE You think Dean’s the wild card, the loose cannon. But don’t you see? Making deals with witches, opening Pandora’s box down there? You’re the reckless one. You’ll do anything to keep clinging to that doomed brother of yours. How many more will die, Sammy? You know it. You have to be stopped. And the only one who can stop you is you!

A few episodes later, Sam orders Oskar's death for a spell to remove the Mark of Cain. I've seen hilarious posts before about how he had no choice but to do this because MoC Dean is so scawy and bad but that quite explicitly is not his motivation. They could have done so many other things. Throw him into space. Bury him in a really deep hole. Put him in something like The Cage. But Sam didn't like any of those options, because all of them meant being without his brother, and he's realized he doesn't want to be without him no matter the cost (10.18).

SAM So, awhile back, we had a chance to, um…close the gates of Hell. And in order to do that, I would’ve had to die. And, I was okay with that, and I am okay with that, but Dean was not. And so, he uh… CHARLIE He saved you. SAM Yeah, he saved me. CHARLIE And let me guess, in doing so, he did something you didn’t want, and that pissed you off. And you said something that hurt him? SAM Yeah, that sounds about right. [...] SAM You know, when Dean came to get me at school, I-I told myself… one last job, you know? One more job. And then when – when I, um…. When I lost Jess, I, again, told myself one more job. There’s always one more job, you know? And one more job, and one more job, and then I was gonna go back to law and – and to my life. CHARLIE You were the Dread Pirate Roberts of hunting. SAM Yeah. I guess I really understand now that….this is my life. I love it. But I can’t do it without my brother. I don’t want to do it without my brother. And if he’s gone, then I don’t…. CHARLIE I got it. I-I do.

This all culminates in 10.23, where a very mentally unstable MoC Dean attempts to reason with Sam about them both being evil and needing to take themselves out:

DEAN: Remember when we were in that church, making Crowley human, about to close the Gates of Hell? Well, you sure as hell were ready to die for the greater good then. SAM: Yeah, and, Dean, you pulled me back. DEAN: And I was wrong. You were right, Sam. You knew that this world would be better without us in it. SAM: No, no, no, wait a second. You're twisting my words here, Dean. DEAN: Why? Because we -- we track evil and kill it? The family business? Is that it? Look at the tape, Sam. Evil tracks us. And it nukes everything in our vicinity -- our family, our friends. It's time we put a proper name to what we really are and we deal with it. SAM: Wait a second. We are not evil. Listen... We're far from perfect, but we are good. That thing on your arm is evil, but not you, not me. DEAN: I let Rudy die. How was that not evil? I know what I am, Sam. But who were you when you --when you drove that man to sell his soul... Or when you bullied Charlie into getting herself killed? And to what end? A-a good end? A just end? To remove the Mark no matter what the consequences? Sam, how is that not evil? I have this thing on my arm, and you're willing to let the Darkness into the world. SAM: You were also willing to summon death to make sure you could never do any more harm. You summoned me because you knew I would do anything to protect you. That's not evil, Dean. That's not an evil man. That is a good man crying to be heard, searching for... some other way.

Dean is saying a lot of shady shit here, but some of what he's saying... isn't wrong?

Sam is willing to let The Darkness destroy the world, and he does, and then standing in the aftermath of a town being destroyed by the force he unleashed, Sam says:

SAM: I unleashed a force on this world that could destroy it . . . to save you. DEAN: And I told you not to. SAM: And I'd do it again. In a second, I would do it again.

Thousands of people are dying and Sam says he would do it again. This post about Sam's actions versus Dean stopping Sam from closing the gates of hell is highly relevant.

Season 11 continues with Sam taking a little more responsibility for his own decisions, while praying for Dean to live (11.02):

SAM: So . . . I know it's been a long time, but . . . Dean and I, we've -- we've been through a lot of bad. But this is different. This is my fault, and I don't know how to fix it. And if I have to die, I've made my peace with that, but . . . Please. Dean deserves better. Dean deserves a life. There are people out there, good people, who are going to suffer because of me, and I am not asking you to clean up my mess. Hell, I don't even know if you're out there, but . . . If you are . . . And if you can hear me, I, um . . . We need your help, God. We need to know there's hope. We need a sign.

And then there's the VERY long-awaited apology:

SAM When I was with Lucifer, he, um... He showed me things. It was like a highlight reel of my biggest failures. DEAN Yeah, he was messing with you. That's what he does. SAM Give me a sec. I should've looked for you. When you were in Purgatory, I... I should've turned over every stone.

Family (Sam) as chains

While all of this is happening, we also have Benny and Cas and Crowley and Amara.

Benny is contrast—someone whose goodness and selfless loyalty only makes Sam's horrible flaws stand out more sharply in season 8. Under the influence of the specter, Dean says, "Benny has been more of a brother to me this past year than you have ever been" and Sam can't stand it. It haunts him so bad he tries to kill Benny, and can't get over it even after the end of the season when Benny is fucking dead. He is unable to accept that the contrast between himself and Benny is his own fault.

Crowley and Dean's flirtations begin in season 9, as Sam suffocates Dean, and at the end of the season, Crowley has literally convinced Dean to run away with him. In 10.01, there is a delightful phone call where Crowley rubs it in Sam's face that Dean is with HIM:

SAM I don't know how you did this, what kind of... Black-magic stunt you pulled, but hear me --I will save my brother or die trying. CROWLEY You know what tickles me about all this? It's what's really eating you up. You don't care that he's a demon. Heck, you've been a demon. We've all been demons. No, it's that he's with me and he's having the time of his life. You can't stand the fact that he's mine. SAM He's not your pet. CROWLEY My pet? He's my best friend, my partner in crime. They'll write songs about us, graphic novels. “The Misadventures of Growley and Squirrel." Dean Winchester completes me, and that's what makes you lose your chickens.

It's this cruel callback to Sam's jealousy of Benny and Cas in season 8—how Crowley convinced Dean to finally ditch his smothering, controlling brat of little brother who can't stand him having friends, and now Dean is having the time of his life howling at the moon. The problem is, Dean also feels a little bit like maybe Crowley wants to control him too, and that isn't working for him.

Amara in season 11 goes on to further speak on terrible brothers who think they're better than you, who leave you betrayed and diminished, who abandon you. She's raging against the concept of family as chains—she wants revenge... but all the while she's in pain because she still loves her brother. Amara's attraction to Dean is based on that commonality—what she feels is a shared experience and how she wants to cut the last remaining pieces of love she feels for her brother away so she can finally be free of the pain of him—and she doesn't care if she destroys everything—including herself—in the process. (See: Dean slowly losing his identity through the MoC arc). Sam and Dean's relationship is in rehab over this whole season though, and so Dean's role ends up being to convince Amara not to destroy herself—to instead do what Sam and Dean have done and make up and work on improving their relationship.

[happilyfeatherafter]

Happilyfeatherafter's ficrec Fridays

Back for my second week of fics I've read and loved recently, as well as a couple of throw backs. If you missed last week's you can find it here for more!

12 January 2024

Altitude by enochianprayer (@chapeldean, art by @hornystiel here and @naughtystiel here) is a wintery delight, in which Dean is a seasonal worker in a mountain lodge and Castiel is a hiker who's passing through. Enchanted by their brief encounter with each other, Dean can't get Cas out of his head, and Cas' questioning leads him to find something holy in the revelations he stumbles upon at the lodge. Sweet and romantic, wild and wandering, cosy and brave.

boy leave your boots by the bed by an_ardent_rain (@alulangel) is a post-canon fix it, a smutty cowboy kink (shh yes this WILL be a recurring theme on my rec lists), wish fulfilment fic for the spn bang bang with one of my favourite tropes of Dean and Cas going on little dates without really realising they're going on little dates, whilst pining. Plus absolutely wonderful banter:

Cas squints and ignores that.  “Technically, you could say that this heaven is still ‘in beta’ now,” he says, and he uses the air quotes and it’s so adorable Dean bites the swell of a bottom lip to hold in a fond smile.  Cas is, as always, a giant dork.  “But we are soliciting feedback.”

“Yeah, you got a heavenly suggestion box?  Hotline for complaints?  Five stars, would die and spend eternity here again?”

“There are… more than five stars, Dean.”

Sweet Science by emmbrancsxx0, (@valleydean) is now complete, a 12 days of smutmas challenge continuation to the incredible destiel 1930s boxing au Heavyweight. Cas and Dean are on a romantic winter retreat to get out of the spotlight against the backdrop of the burgeoning economic depression in New York, both seeing the boxing world become harder to maintain a living. With Cas secretly planning to retire, and not yet letting on to Dean, can they navigate their future whilst still maintaining their hard fought for trust? I love these guys so much and am so glad to be back in their world.

The Root of this Love by kathscradle is for all the bearded!Misha fans. May he have survived the acrylic paint incident. The very short and sweet and sexy premise: Cas is hairy, now that he’s human. Dean can’t get a grip on himself. (But he sure can get a grip on Cas!) Smutty body hair celebration and body worship.

Just Being and Just Having by Englandwouldfall is the post-canon fic series I drop everything to read every time there's a new update. It delves so incredibly beautifully into Dean and Cas' history of miscommunication and gives them the chance to truly talk things out, finding themselves falling more deeply in love as they do so and understand their own mistakes but also what makes them work so well together when they're no longer under Chuck's thumb. Each chapter feels like therapy and a brain and heart massage! Two chapters left to go of Just Having, dive in now so you can lose your mind with me when it's complete.

Solitudes by ilovehowyouletmefall (@angelinthefire, art by @hawkland) is set in season 12 after Cas is nearly killed by Ramiel. Dean is close to acknowledging his feelings, whilst Cas is weighed down by the responsibility to find Kelly, but he agrees to help out on one more hunt before he leaves. Trapped, they encounter a monster which makes both of their nightmares come true...or so they think. Witnessing each other's despair, this is a haunting and genuinely creepy story that will make your heart ache.

[stopaskinf]

“You get me closer to God”

Summary: Jimin thinks you’re perfect.❤️

Genre: Yandere Jimin, Dark fic, Dead dove do not eat?

CW: Obsessive behavior, worshipper mentality, unhealthy body expectations and descriptions, Jimin just really hates himself in this, mutilation,

A/N: Part 2 electric boogaloo of my BTS Yandere series. Lowkey made this because I listened to Filter and went 👀👀👀👀.

Park Jimin is vile.

He’s amoebic.

He’s sure if he opened his brain, he wouldn’t be able to find any independent thought.

He’s especially malleable when it comes to you.

He must mold himself into your ideal, even if it kills him.

Jimin knows he’s imperfect—an image created with God’s offhand.

He obsesses over his imperfections. The flatness of his nose, the fullness in his cheeks and belly.

Pig.

Disgusting.

Ugly.

You’ve never explicitly commented on his appearance, but he can feel his inadequacy in your presence.

He wishes he could peel his face off layer by layer. Gouge his eyes out and replace them with fuller, brighter ones. To scrape the excess fat off his face with his hands. Speaking of his hands, he’s always wanted to have longer, slimmer fingers. He goes so far as imaging forcibly elongating his spine with his hands or with the help of a generous medical professional. He needs to rough out his edges.

He must be perfect. Like you.

When he’s near you, he feels himself ascend closer to godhood. His closeness to you makes him perfect.

Jimin almost hates you. He feels as though you were sent to mock him. To remind him of his failures. However, he pushes that feeling aside. A good follower never questions nor asks for more from their god. Besides, his love and idolization of you outweigh his envy.

He practices and practices until his feet blister and bruise. He wraps them in bandages to decrease the pain, but in the end, they always unravel due to the blood that is secreted. Day and night he throws himself into dance until he can almost feel your voice in his mind. He feels your voice telling him he’s done enough. His eyes become sunken and his cheeks hollow. You comment on the dark circles under his eyes. He reminds himself to buy some concealer to hide the new flaw.

However, you have a much better way to ease his suffering. You invite him to yours for a nice, hot meal since he “looked so sickly”.

Devotion truly pays off.