#a fanfic isn't canon

[randomnameless]

Do you agree that anyone that uses death of the author as argument shouldn't be arguing about a text? Because according to them all interpretations are valid so why argue against other people's interpretations?

Mmh...

I guess it's part of the duality of fandom life - people want to talk about the game are very involved in it, but they also create fun headcanons to explore said game's lore/setting/characters.

So in way, participating in fandom and even writing fanfiction, or saying stupid things like "hc : Nabateans attach a great importance to golden trinkets" is, in a way, pushing your own interpretation over the game's.

But at one point, it depends on what you want to argue about.

Argue about headcanon? Uh... it's like arguing about what topping you prefer on your ice cream. It's your ice cream, your tastes, so you can prefer chocolate cookies or peanuts and it's, you know, not open to discussion as in "talking with you made me realise peanuts are was tastier than chocolate chip cookies".

I like to talk and discuss and see other people's headcanons because it's fun and when some of ours match we can nerd about pointless things like warm rocks or nabatean laying eggs, but you won't see me being an ass and tell them "uh your headcanon sucks, you should put blue cheese on your ice cream".

Now, arguing about canon?

FE16 (and Fe Fodlan in general) is a game where the devs forgot to hire a continuity game and thought letting the world "vague" would make it look "deeper and richer" than it is. 10k years of lore, after all. And we have at least 2 unreliable narrators, that are Lords so who are protagonists and usually should be believed... expect that the game shows us they're full of nonsense regarding various topics.

But, unlike headcanon, canon isn't subjective, it's the same game (well... depending on the audio, it's not) everyone played, some people were kind enough to create a website where every line (+ dub!) is available, so it's not a question of interpretation as much as going to read and check the datamine website and the hundreds of YT videos, were people recorded their PT.

Was Burnie surrounded by flames, effectively preventing her escape from her pyre, or not?

Does Cyril mention to Mercedes how he only ate every couple of days before coming to the monastery (so under House Goneril's good care and in the Almyran army) or not?

Those things can be easily checked, and there's no interpretation.

If you don't like canon, you can churn out headcanon and have fun developing them, maybe finding people who like them and expend them themselves!

But for various reasons (is it because fanfiction has a bad rep since the 2000s for being something, idk, teenage girls write? or because it's not seen as very serious (tm) as a redshit post?) some people in the Fodlan fandom don't really want to confess they don't like the canon, and prefer the headcanon/fanfiction version of the game portrayed through a certain fic that, in turn, influenced how canon is perceived by some devoted fans.

(and let's not forget the lolcalisation that, too, didn't like the base game and edited it for ~ reasons ~)

And imo, Death of the author, in those fandom circles, is a roundabout way to say "the canon is not conclusive so i interpret the situation as this, but it's totes not my headcanon nor a fanfiction bcs i'm no gross fangirl, it's still canon, but my interpretation of the canon"

Tldr : Arguing about headcanon is as pointless and fruitless as starting a shipwar, and in the 2020s apparently it's too shameful to confess liking/writing fanfictions, so instead you like and write "your own interpretations of canon or how it should be" instead, using various theories like "Death of the Author" to validate your creative process, bcs fanfics gross'n'bad'n'only for lonely teenager girls, i guess.

[justsmth2]

mom said it's my turn to draw reverse omens au

[erinwantstowrite]

wait guys... i just thought about smth...

specifically thinking about LoF, not just in general. I might do smth for when I it 4000 followers on here (like a DTIYS or smth else if anyone has any ideas? maybe start the LoF drabble/oneshots/etc fic with the POV of whoever wins this poll)

[rainy-matcha]

RADIOSTATIC BUT NOT ONE SIDED. RADIOSTATIC BUT ALASTOR LIKES VOX BACK. PLEASE I'M BEGGING 🙏🙏🙏🙏 I CAN'T BE THE ONLY PERSON WHO DOESN'T SHIP IT AS ONE SIDED. IDC I KNOW IT'S NOT CANON, I JUST LOVE IT TOO MUCH OML

Edit: If anyone has fanfic reccs, put em in the replies/reblog please! :D

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Yangvik: Fake dating AU/scenario

Rangshi: "Oh no there's only one bed" scenario

[justaz]

need post magic reveal/ban repeal where magic is free and everyone grows in their knowledge of just what magic is and how it works etc, etc. merlin (isn't one for bragging about his powers) doesn't really mention much about his magic so people just assume he has enough to get by with like chores but not enough to catch the ire of uther EXCEPT for gauis, lancelot, and arthur bc gaius and lancelot have known about him for years and know what he's capable of and arthur sat merlin down and demanded all the stories so arthur knows he'd be a formidable opponent but he doesn't really get it yk? so he's like "yeah merlin has magic and he's capable of defending himself and camelot so he's probably on the more powerful end of the spectrum like every other sorcerer who is powerful"

and then i need merlin to be Different. like noticeably different. like idk a sorcerer is like trying out to be court sorcerer (bc merlin doesn't want another job dammit arthur give it morgana or someone-) and they perform this elaborate spell that captivates merlin and he starts asking all these questions and the sorcerer is like "yeah it's super difficult, it took me months to get it right and it takes years for some others-" and they cut themselves off bc merlin was just like "i wanna try" and does it perfectly first try. the sorcerer is seething.

camelot is hit with a heatwave and everyone is suffering and arthur is just like "morgana can you make it rain or something? it's too hot to breathe." and morgana is just like "no you idiot i can't just bend nature to my will. it doesn't like that." and merlin finally arrives with waterskins full of nice, cold, refreshing drink that the knights are frothing at the mouth to get. arthur complains again and morgana huffs and merlin is like "has he been like that this whole time?" and morgana nods with a groan and merlin laughs before going "i can try something" and leaves before anyone can say anything and arthur looks at morgana and is like "i thought you said nature doesn't like to be controlled?" and she's like "it doesn't" and then they all chase after merlin but he's chilling in the courtyard with his eyes closed, not even chanting, and then the sky starts to darken as black clouds roll in, the temperature plummets and then...snow begins to fall. in july. they all end up having a snowball fight.

a power hungry sorcerer comes along and is like "emrys....he's perfect....just what i need...teehee" and casts some spell over merlin and begins to siphon his magic and his power and merlin feels waves of his magic flood through the connection and into the sorcerer and like he's a mix of panic and concern bc yeah this mf is taking his magic but they're taking his magic. merlin tries to bargain or talk them down while the knights and arthur try to attack but the sorcerer keeps pushing them back and ignores merlin and is like "i want power, i want your power" blah blah blah monologue time and they swing another wave of magic out at the knights and knock many out while killing some and merlin is just like "ok no that's all folks thanks" and starts to push his own magic through the connection. the sorcerer has this wild gleam in their eyes and they feel more and more power fill them and it's like a high until it gets too much and they frantically try to sever the connection and their telling merlin to stop but merlin is just like "i thought you wanted my power? i'm giving it to you" and continues to flood the sorcerer with his magic until gold begins to trace their skin and they idk explode or smth and then all the magic flies back into merlin and he flexes his hands. unnamed knights 3, 6, 22, 53, and 55 still died so it's a tragedy.

a bunch of sorcerers are entertaining at a feast (kind of like the trickler) and they cast illusions all around the room that look real enough (unless you look too closely or touch it bc they are somewhat see through and your hand would pass right through them) and it's a fun and joyous night. later that week, the knights bring it up during their break while training and merlin is like "sure, what illusion should i cast?" and after some back and forth, he settles on the illusion of a dragon. it's around the size and age of aithusa bc that's all he has to go off of and it's gold since he took inspiration from the pendragon crest all around the area. it jumps around and flaps it's wings to get some air and it's all fine and dandy until elyan goes to poke his hand through it's ribs but meets physical scales and he jumps up into percival's arms. merlin looks closer and is like "oh. its real. whoops." and leon is like "whoops?? you make a real life dragon and all you have to say is whoops?" and merlin shrugs and is like "it was an accident" and leon about keels over from a heart attack "an accident? how do you accidentally-" the dragon is considered a gift from magic to camelot and helps further heal the wounds of uther's purge.

idk just like merlin being casually the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth and unnerving people just by how little he seems to care about his shows of power but they're all like "well he's just doing all these small things that don't harm anyone and he doesn't even seem to realize just how powerful he is so what can ya do?" and they leave it be and make peace with merlin being Like That. and then camelot/arthur is attacked or smth idk and then everyone gets to see exactly how powerful and dangerous merlin is

[antion-bewitching-bitch]

The budding flower of Hearts

Teaser/Pilot?

Descendants x male Oc (you can read it as a self-insert if you want)

Masterlist

Next Chapter

An: This will be a teaser to a fanfic I'm planning to start. It’ll be a descendants fanfic with a male oc who is the child of the queen of hearts (yes i saw descendants 4, i think i won’t like it nor use it. I’ll centre more on descendants 1, 2, & 3). This won’t be beta read, I'll be the one who’ll mostly check for mistakes but if you do see some, maybe comment and I'll try my best to edit! Hope you like it!

Ps. THIS IS LIKE MY FIRST TIME AND ALSO JUST PILOT SO NOT CHAPTER 1 YET.

1.5k words. No Trigger warnings that I know off.

“And who might you be dear?” The lady in a metallic blue dress asked; She was Fairy Godmother. The school’s mere environment with all its beautiful architecture, clear blue skies, greenery which was a far cry from the deserted land me and the others came from; just a few minutes ago.

“Eli” I muttered, lost in the new environment. Taking in the beautiful clear sky that looked so polluted and clouded back then, It was this beautiful blue now.

I was pulled back to focus when I felt a bump by Carlos, I was asked again. “Eli?”

“Ah! Sorry, my name; it's Eli des Lamproca Van Der Heart.” I tried to push through with how long my name was. “Please just call me Eli!” with a greeting of a low nod and a smile. My heart painted lips curving. They were staring at our alien appearance compared to them.

“Eli, a lovely name.” The Fairy gleefully said with her high pitched voice, doing her best to greet the weird kids who just showed up. “Welcome to Auradon prep! I'm Fairy Godmother, headmistress.”

Mal then quickened “The fairy godmother? As in, "Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo"?”. “Bibbidi-bobbidi. You know it.” The Fairy replied with a smile.

Everything else was forgettable, for I was annoyed that Jay was eying a random girl next to the Fairy. He was skittish and all that nonsense while loudly chewing the gum he had in the limo. I sighed as I continued looking around and noticed Carlos was still trying to fix his clothes with chocolate still in his lips.

I was then brought back to the conversation when the man spoke. “It's so good to finally meet you all! I'm Ben.” I then slanted my head wondering who this ‘Ben’ was. I saw his gaze go to mine.

“Prince! Benjamin. Soon to be king.” The girl next to him followed up quickly, so he was the reason we’re here. 

“You had me at prince. My mom's a queen, which makes me a princess.” Evie walked forward towards him, spinning around a bit and showing him her hand.

The girl then shook her head “The evil queen has no royal status here” Then i saw it “And neither do you.” her smile widened. She had this look in her eyes, gleeful to say the next line putting Evie in her place.

I pulled Evie back a bit next to me. Ben then awkwardly laughed and introduced this girl “This is Aubrey….”

“Princess! Aubrey.” she said while pointing her finger. She was reminding him, she was also royalty. “His. girlfriend.” she was wearing this fake smile. While Ben continued to look at her awkwardly. He isn’t fond of her. It seems so. “Right benny-boo~?” Ben was feeling uncomfortable while she wrapped her hand towards his.

Mal and I smiled back at them. I truly didn’t care for the next gibber gabber of the Fairy with all that talk about some library in the end. 

Ben was behind her and I noticed Aubrey trying to take his hand once but he harshly took it back not wanting to be all touchy in front of us it seems. After the fairy walked away, He stepped forward and offered his hand towards Jay to shake.

 “It is so, so, so good to finally me-meet you all.” Jay, that idiot. He pushed him away. But smiled back at him, He didn’t want to shake his hand while he shook his head. He continued to Mal and shook her hand then stared a bit…

“This is a momentous occasion,” he continued while Mal then shakes her hand like it had been infected “and one that I hope will go down in history. Is that chocolate?” What a mess; Carlos with his already messy face had chocolate covered hands; But then the prince licked his finger clean, and gave me a look. Weird. “As the day our two peoples began to heal.” He shook Evie’s Hand while Aubrey behind him eyed her as she stared at him.

He finally reached me, “What was that pause earlier with Mal?” I asked him while we shook hands and he stared at me and smiled brightly “Ah. nothing! It wa-was nothing. Eli right? Beautiful name”. Weird. 

Aubrey was getting a bit annoyed at him staring at us, but now more so at me. “Hey! You're the mad queen’s son right?” she directed towards me while I nodded with a fake smile; with Ben still staring at me but still wasn’t letting go of my hand. What exactly is going through his mind? “Yeah, you know what? I totally don’t believe the rumours, you’re not that insane!” 

What a bitch. 

Ben then was back to reality when he saw my smile fade a bit and realizing the situation while finally letting go of my hand. I just said nothing since if I did I might have slapped her. He was now looking towards Aubrey and seemed to be thinking of something.

“And you! You’re Maleficent's daughter, aren't you?” She then directed at Mal and stepped a bit closer to her. “Yeah, you know what? I totally do not blame you for your mother trying to kill my parents and stuff.” she rambled.

“Oh! my mom's Aurora. Sleeping~” She proclaimed, faking dumb; she stared at Mal insuating for her to continue. “Beauty!” Mal continued the atmosphere now being awkward.

“Yeah, I've heard the name. You know, and I totally do not blame your grandparents for inviting everyone in the whole world but my mother to their stupid christening.” They smiled back at each other. “Water under the bridge” Aubrey replied smiling. “Totes!” Mal wasn’t backing down. 

What plastics honestly.

Ben grabbed Aubrey away from us and continued while defusing the situation “Okay! So, how about a tour?” We all were silent. So was I. I was just observing really. “Yeah?” He showed us forward and we walked behind him. Evie continued to walk beside me and linked our arms; while Mal was in front of us behind Ben and Aubrey. With Jay and Carlos messing around with each other behind us.

“Auradon prep, originally built over 300 years ago and converted into a high school by my father wh-” 

The yapping of Ben faded as Evie gave me a look of concern. She began “Do yo- Do you think other royals will hate us?”. It was a genuine concern, both me and her were of true royal blood. “Do you think your father will hate you?” I asked her, she was a child of not only the 'Evil Queen' but also the King. She and Snow White were half-siblings.

“I haven’t really met him, I’ve never had…” She continues on. She asked me “Do you think your aunt will hate you?”. The White Queen, the sister of my mother. The one who sentenced her to the wastelands for unity with the other nations.

“Mother said she would have loved me. Though, we haven’t met either” I was going to continue but then we all came to a stop. Ben saw Carlos.

“Carlos.” He said. Carlos was behind Jay’s back, now terrified of the bronze? Statue that was earlier a man now a beast. Carlos must be afraid since it looked like a dog. “It's okay.” He was trying to reassure him to not be that fearful.

“My father wanted his statue to morph from beast to man to remind us that anything is possible.” His father. The king of this united land. I heard of his father’s tale with the beauty that is belle. “Do you resent the witch who cursed your father?” I remembered the beginning of the tale.

“Do you even know the witch? I never heard of them just of their curse towards him”

He laughed again before answering, but now it wasn’t a forced one like earlier with Aubrey. “For the first question, no. I don’t resent them. For the second. I think… even my father doesn’t know them?” He started to scratch his chin while thinking back. Aubrey asked back “Why ask Eli? Why so curious about curses?”

It was clear my curiosity was for him and the witch itself, not the curse. She was clearing trying to put words in my mouth. I laughed a bit at her question, I replied with a smile. “Why not? Scared of my madness?”

“So you guys have a lot of magic here in Auradon?” Mal asked changing the topic while we continued walking inside the school, clearly ignoring the conflict while also using it as a time to gain some information. “Like wands and things like that?”

Ben stole a glance at me before answering Mal’s question. At first it was Mal he was staring at, now me? “Yeah, it exists of course, but It's pretty much retired.” he smiled a bit. “Most of us here are just ordinary mortals.” He nodded with us now being inside the school and at the center of a grand hall with large staircases leading to places we haven’t seen yet.

THATS IT. THATS THE TEASER/PILOT OF THE FANFIC

im sorry if you wanted more and etc. but i just wanted to show just this and i might even change some more stuff in the future just in case too.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT AND PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG AND MOSTLY FOLLOW ME SO I KNOW I SHOULD CONTINUE <3 <3 <3

If its bad just tell me so I can delete this since I am just generally shy since its my first time posting stuff like this

[screechingkroh]

The Seer

Has a general outfit design! This,,, is for lore purposes bc LBD's plan finally goes right 💀 huzzah for her, ig. I wanted to go fancy w it but then I decided to keep it simple for the sake of my own sanity. Pls, I am a silly little guy. I'm drawing this fucker, I need my neurons to stay in place pls.

The Seer is stuck w her ass for a while. Because we literally never see her shit (where she lives, the dynamic the Spider Queen and her goons have, that kind of shit), I get to be silly w it.

Also here's more Seer stuff bc I'm trying to figure out how I want their personality to be LMAO

[pookiebearhelaena]

this may be a bit controversial, but reading f&b i thought it was pretty well-established that there were no winners in the dance of dragons.

Rhaenyra lost her daughter, her sons, her husband and her dragon. She was chased out of King's Landing for being a shit ruler and died at the hands of Aegon after betrayed by her people in Dragonstone. Not to mention that despite everything, she was not remembered as a queen.

With Rhaenyra dead, Aegon was officially king but his reign was described as short and sad. He lost his sons, he lost his brothers, his sister, and his dragon. He lost his mobility, half his body was charred. He died poisoned by his men bc he was a shit ruler and was remembered as a usurper.

And yet people still debate over about who won? How did Rhaenyra win? Her son became king, but the war was about her and her brother, not their bloodlines?? How did Aegon win? He ruled miserably for a year or so and then died betrayed? They both threw the realm to shit and lost everything in the span of three years. Neither of them were winners.

[icarustypicalfall]

A new series :)

a group chat of cod men and yn who is a medic

idk this felt silly in my head to unleash my dump jokes I cant put in fics also i decided it'll be fem reader cuz idk i just wanted also it's not like anyone will read it im flopping soo bad but whatever enjoy this meal pookies I'll add new parts soon

someone with my two brain cells will fall for this

PART 1

guess who kidnapped yn hard edition

MASTERPOST • SERIES

[chairofchaos]

51 pls bestieee - maybe a neschei 👀👀 or azris

(hehhehehe)

This does contain prompt 1, but prompt 51 had too much potential with Azris for me to let it go. Since you have given me such latitude in what I write for you, I offer you a work with two of my favorite pieces of music. This is what I listened to (and imagined them dancing to!) while I wrote this drabble. Also, it is slightly over 1000 words but I'm still counting it as a drabble. Enjoy!

xxx

Still, They Dance | Azris Drabble

The music of the chamber orchestra drifted out to meet them on the front steps of the event hall. The last of the guests had trickled out the door, but Eris Vanserra still wanted one thing out of his mating ceremony.

“May I have this dance?” he turned to offer a hand to the male standing at his side. Azriel turned, lowering his hand raised in parting to their guests, and smiled. 

“You’ve had many,” Azriel grinned, placing his hand in Eris’. “And I would never deny you another.”

Eris turned, guiding Azriel back inside. “I lied when I told you I hired them for four hours. They’re here until midnight, or until we get tired.”

Azriel’s shadows swirled about their hands, but their master said nothing, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

“Did you enjoy it all?” Eris broke the silence as they approached the ballroom’s doorway.

“Yes,” Azriel nodded. “More than I even thought I would. Did you?”

Eris grinned as they stepped into the candlelit hall. “More than I can express.”

As they returned, the harpist’s opening arpeggio led the instrumentalists in a beautiful, arching piece of music. Eris placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder and smiled. Azriel leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Eris’ temple as the music grew and breathed about them. “Ready?” he whispered. One of his hands settled at Eris’ waist, the other lifting Eris’ free hand into position.

 Eris smiled, though Azriel couldn’t see him. “Always.”

They began to dance, Azriel leading them through the steps of the dance they had first danced publicly the previous spring at Nyx’s fifth birthday party. The music was over far too soon, but when the couple continued the steps, the conductor queued the musicians to begin the piece again. 

Three, then four times, they danced around the room, losing themselves in the music and the harmony of each other, a quiet camaraderie that had built between them in secret over the last seven decades. 

No words were said. None were needed. This, the arching give and take of the violin and the harp, the longing of their music come to fruition at last, said all they needed to say.

Once the piece had been played until each time had bled together into an extensive, living thing, they stilled in the center of the room. The music’s final cadence faded, and the musicians hesitated a moment before continuing with a new piece. 

Azriel’s hand at Eris’ hip had slowly moved to his lower back, pressing them closer and closer as they danced. Now, they stood, facing each other with chests brushing as they simply breathed in, and out, and in once more. 

Eris broke their stillness, moving to pull his hand from Azriel’s, but Azriel gripped his hand tight with a broad smile. “One more.”

Eris nodded, cheeks flushing a deeper pink. “One more.” 

Azriel pulled him closer, resting his cheek against Eris’ before beginning to lead him in a slow dance, hardly moving at all beyond the gentle swaying of their bodies. 

Eris willed the flames of the candles to dim slightly, casting the room in a fainter glow. His thoughts wandered. He and Azriel were mated, pure and simple. The bond was accepted. They would never be separate again. And Eris was filled with an immense gratitude with the male who recognized that Eris would dance until the end of time, if he could.

The dates of their courtship had been varied, but steadily, one thing had become a tradition. On Saturday nights, Azriel would take Eris dancing. It didn’t matter where, or what kind, but Azriel would dance with Eris in taverns, dance halls, alleys outside restaurants they ate at where a quartet played, even rooftops, when they had been courting in secret. They danced.

After their first night spent together, instead of going to sleep, Azriel had all but insisted that they dance ‘just one dance’, and so they had, one, then another, and another, dancing in embers of firelight kept alive only through Eris’ will until dawn broke. 

“I love you,” Eris whispered. He felt Azriel’s smile against his cheek before he heard the answering “I love you.” 

He pulled back, just enough to see Azriel’s half hooded gaze fixed on him, before drawing Azriel in for a kiss. Azriel held him, swaying all the while. Shadows drifted lazily about their shoulders, a physical manifestation of the bond which tied them together.

“To the rest of our lives,” Azriel whispered.

“Forever,” Eris answered. Azriel’s smile grew wider, and he reached up to his neck to grab Eris’ left hand. He pulled it to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to Eris’ wrist, then a longer one to his palm. All the while, he held Eris’ eye contact. Eris could feel the flush growing on his cheeks, the temperature between and around them slowly starting to warm as his blood stirred. 

It had been a long day, and it would be a long night. Azriel pressed a kiss to Eris’ mating ring before pressing one last long kiss to his palm and stepped back, tilting his head. ‘Time to Go?’ his gaze asked.

Eris nodded. “Thank you.” 

Azriel smiled.  “You never need to thank me for loving you.” 

Eris smiled in return. Azriel swept Eris into his arms, wrapping them in his wings and kissing him. Eris leaned into his muscular mate, hands fisting in his tunic. Azriel cradled his face in his hands, tilting his head to deepen their kiss before they broke apart, panting.

“I love you,” Eris said.

“I love you, too,” Azriel grinned, kissing him again. Then he began to slowly walk them towards the door, pressing kisses all over his mate’s face as he did so.

“Thank you!” Eris called in the direction of the musicians. They said nothing, but Eris could hear them begin to talk quietly among themselves. It sounded as though they were amused.

“Let them talk,” Azriel murmured. “Let’s go.”

Eris laughed. “Alright, alright. Come on, you big Illyrian baby. Let’s go to bed.”

Azriel pulled back, his darkened eyes filled with affection. “To bed.”

It was not an end, but a beginning. The ceremony had been the end of a movement in an orchestration that would last centuries, through the phrases and phases of life. And all the while, come high or low, they would dance.

xxx Taglist: @ninthcircleofprythian @c-starstuff-man0 @dusk-muse @lilah-asteria

[doodlejoltik]

grass knot

[~4.5k words, read it here or on Ao3. tagged with Volo and Lance since they appear as prominent characters; Rei-centric]

Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

Rei, caught in the stirrings of a new arc, tries to rise to its call, but trips over the past at every turn.

A full rewrite of that Mysterious Stones chapter where Volo first shows up, from Rei’s POV, plus a bit more. Written mostly before the Arceus Arc began.

(Setting expectations: a lot of this fic is just Rei Thinking About Stuff haha. Love getting into his head! His characterisation is a little bit different/more nuanced compared to the other Rei oneshot I wrote; hopefully you'll still be along for the ride if you've read that one!)

-

“Show me thy bond.” It echoes inside Rei’s skull, down to the very bone, the same as in his earliest memories. He nearly buckles under its weight, but it's a welcome feeling.

After so long without direction, this is a relief. Arceus has finally spoken.

The words fit perfectly with the half-remembered fragments Rei had received some weeks ago in the middle of the night. Why hadn't they been intelligible then? What makes now different? The sync stones ultimate are one factor, of course. Maybe Arceus draws power from them, which is strange to say of a deity, but from what he knows of the Plates, it might not be so far-fetched.

Prince Lear disperses the murmuring crowd; so, the audience all heard it too, not just those on the arena floor. Professor Bellis congratulates Bettie. Cynthia, Lance and Steven whisper among themselves. And his mind still whirls with new theories as they gather together.

What does Arceus want? 

‘Seek out all Pokemon’ had meant completing the Pokedex. At least, that’s what he’d assumed. Now, this time, Arceus likely means for them to showcase bonds with their Pokemon, given the context. But what does that actually entail?

Cynthia’s words cut above everyone else's. “Rei. Was that voice…?”

All eyes are on him. He breathes deeply, steeling himself, as the familiar weight of it settles in. Things are moving, now. 

“Yes. I'm certain. That was —”

“Indeed! That was a message from Arceus!”

His words catch in his throat. Off-balance, suddenly, as all his thoughts fall away, replaced by a swooping feeling he can't quite identify —

He whirls around.

Volo is here.

He takes a few steps back, an involuntary half-stumble, before remembering himself. 

Those flashes of movement he's been seeing, the feeling of being watched, a Togepi, unattended: they’re all now terrifyingly validated. He'd half thought them a product of his overactive mind.

“Excuse-moi, pardon me… but who are you?” Professor Bellis ventures. 

“I'm Volo — a humble merchant who loves history and mythology!” With that, he flashes a winning smile. Rei could laugh at the sheer audacity of it all, but his thoughts are still strewn across the dusty ground, scattered, and they slip from his grasp as he tries to gather them up. Whatever sense of gravity he’d felt upon hearing Arceus’ voice has completely lifted.

“But more importantly!” Volo continues. “When the arena shone brightly, I also heard that voice.” He brings his hand up to point at the air with enthusiastic emphasis, a gesture still so terribly familiar. Rei clenches his fists, feeling the nails dig into his skin. Not really out of anger. More as a reminder.

The last time he’d seen Volo had been. Well. Memorable. But that isn’t the image that smiles back at him now, tripping him up. He's in Gingko uniform again, complete with ridiculous oversized backpack, which Rei had thought discarded, up there on the peak. Apparently not. Had Volo returned later, still seething, to collect his things? The concept is strangely hilarious.

“I wonder… these sync stones ultimate… might they be some sort of test from Arceus? If we could show him that ‘bond’ he desires —”

“Sorry, test? Arceus?” Cynthia interrupts with a frown, holding a hand out. “What makes you say that?”

“Why, it's quite simple. Arceus' presence was summoned by these stones, in this exhibition, and he requests us to further show our bond. What else could he desire?” Volo says, gesturing widely. 

Rei finally pulls himself upright — scrapes his thoughts together into something resembling coherence. The initial shock has drained away, settling into a distant sort of apprehension. He watches silently. Volo’s not really saying anything too unreasonable, but where is this leading? 

There’s so much he doesn’t know. What has Volo been doing, all this time? How long has he been on Pasio? What does he hope to gain, approaching them like this?

He’ll let Volo continue, then. It's an opportunity for some of those questions to be answered.

(And it gives Rei time to think of what to say.)

“Well, put that way, that does make sense,” Steven nods along. “Should we organise for more trainers to try the stones, then?” 

“Oui, I would love to gather more data!” Professor Bellis answers. “However, the stones are still quite volatile. There is progress on this, yes, but for now, I would like to limit their use, capisci?” 

At this, Bettie speaks up. “Yeah, it was weird.” She runs a hand through her Pikachu’s fur, the mouse curled up lazily in her arms. Nobody in Hisui was quite that affectionate with their Pokemon. Certainly not Akari, though she'd grown closer with her own Pikachu over time. As for himself, Decidueye had been standoffish, averse to being carried even as a baby Rowlet. Well, actually — as his distracted mind digs deeper into memory, he recalls — there had been Volo and his Togepi. 

He casts that errant thought away, buries it deep once again. Bettie is still speaking.

“And it was like nothing was there, at first, and Pikachu and I had to concentrate really hard. And then — whoosh! Wow! Overwhelming,” she shifts Pikachu’s weight to one arm to gesture with emphasis, “and all at once.”

“And this is when Arceus spoke,” Lance asks. 

Bettie nods, now subdued. “It was a rush! I think you guys could handle it, but I dunno if everyone could.”

“If I may,” and all attention returns to Volo. “It seems the stones can currently be used by trainers with particularly powerful convictions, and bonds with their Pokemon,” he gestures with a smile to Bettie. She blushes. 

At the casual flattery, Rei can't help the small frown that twists onto his face. It seems innocent enough, but compliments and niceties can so easily mask true intent. 

Especially with Volo.

Volo continues. “Perhaps we might solve this by way of a tournament, of sorts. Allowing Arceus to witness our talent and dedication, with the victor bestowed the honour of using the stones! Of course, the winner of such a competition would have the fortitude necessary to handle such power.”

Well, taking that to its logical end… Volo wants to win, and be granted this ‘honour’ he so conveniently proposed. But why go to all this trouble? The stones appear out in the streets quite often — apparently, found even by preschoolers. Volo should have no trouble obtaining them.

Does he know something they don't?

“Bettie here led the first winning PML team, did she not?” At this, the girl in question smiles Mareepishly. “And that is why she was the one to demonstrate the stones, I presume,” Volo inclines his head towards the Champions.

Informed guess, or something more? He thinks back on half-seen, furtive movements, and wonders. 

“That's right,” Steven confirms. “Bettie is a shining example to us: a leader of the next generation. We decided there was no better choice.” 

“So you suggest we hold another tournament,” Lance says thoughtfully. “Well, there is precedent. Prince Lear,” he turns to the Prince, whom Rei had honestly half forgotten was there. “What do you think?”

Before Lear can reply, Volo reinserts himself into the conversation. “It would be a grand tournament, truly fitting of Pasio's reputation. Why, perhaps, the deity Arceus might even be compelled to descend —”

Ah. So that’s what he intends. “Aren't you getting ahead of yourself there?” Rei interrupts. He means to sound stern, but it comes out sounding more incredulous. Not at the idea itself, but at how brazenly it’s admitted.

“Perhaps,” Volo says with a careless shrug. He doesn’t acknowledge Rei any differently than the others, still maintaining their inadvertently shared ruse. “It's only speculation, of course, but it is exciting to think about!”

“Hmph! I believe I was the one being addressed,” Prince Lear declares, arms crossed. His red shades flash dangerously, eyes hidden under their glint. Directed at him, it's almost like the full glare of an Alpha Pokemon.

Rei’s face flushes with heat to the tips of his ears. Great time he picked to enter the discussion. He quietly ducks his head down; the Prince is in charge, here, after all. He'd rather not test his patience. 

Meanwhile, Volo just smiles, seemingly unfazed. 

There's a part of him that really wants to know how Volo does that. It's just — he's so confident. How can he be so sure that everything will work out in his favour?

“A grand tournament,” Prince Lear ponders, tapping his foot. “And what could be grander than the second Pokemon Masters League?”

“Indeed!” Volo beams. “I'm sure the audience would love to see the clash between a king and a deity, would they not?”

Lear's tapping stills. His guarded stance loosens; he's taken aback. Volo emphasised king, and oh, Lear's official title is Prince. Hm.

There's something more deliberate about it beyond just casual flattery. 

Lear uncrosses his arms and seems at a loss, for a moment, on where to put them before straightening up with his hands on hips. “Is that so?” He laughs. “I like the sound of that!” A pause, unnecessarily dramatic. Nobody breaks the silence, not even Volo. 

The Prince looks around with some satisfaction and continues. “Very well, then. The winning team of the second PML will be granted the honour of using the sync stones ultimate.” He grins, sharply, red shades flashing once again. “Which will include me, of course. Hahahahaha!”

“You have a real gift for making quick decisions!” Volo says cheerfully. The tension breaks. Chuckles arise from the rest of the group, and Rei can only stare in disbelief. That — that has to be mockery, right? But everyone else seems to take it as light teasing, even the quick-tempered Prince himself. 

Against his better judgement, his gaze catches Volo’s. 

He doesn't know what he expects to see: amusement? Satisfaction? Triumph? And there's some of that, but it's a wry, knowing sort of look, like a joke shared only between the two of them. 

Already the others are starting to animatedly discuss between themselves. Bettie makes a teasing comment to Lear, who scoffs. Professor Bellis says something about checking in on the sync stone technology. Cynthia, Lance and Steven form their own little group again, speaking in low tones, and he can't quite follow their discussion. 

It seems like he's the only one who notices Volo quietly slipping away, and he's got half a mind to do the same. 

Would it be incredibly ill-advised to follow him? Probably. But he still has questions. And it’s possible that Volo will let his guard down when they're alone. 

(Even to him, that seems incredibly optimistic. But there’s things between them that he himself would rather only unearth in private. Maybe Volo feels the same way. And even if not, perhaps he'll gloat, or tease playfully, and let on something of use hidden in the thorned barbs.)

It's not like he has much left to contribute here. Tournaments and competitions and organised displays are foreign to him. The Neo Champion Stadium had felt so different from the kind of battles he’s used to… which, in part, could be why he lost. 

He needs to train. If everything rests on the result of this tournament, he has to be ready. 

The group seems to be naturally dispersing, at least — Professor Bellis just excused herself — so he won't be missed. With some quick words, he, too, turns to leave. They can handle this part, and Rei will do his. 

Prince Lear had mentioned a winning team, and Pasio battles are generally three on three, from what he's seen. Who could he ask? There's Akari, of course. And the clan leaders, but it would feel strange to team up with only one and not the other. A little bit too reminiscent of another time. 

His steps carry him nearly to the edge of the arena.

Besides, he's getting ahead of himself. He still has to… well, he should explain everything to them. About Volo.

Even all these months later, it still aches. He had buried it all, hoping to let it rot away, to be free of that thorny mass of contradictory feelings that arose every time he dwelled on it. 

But the longer he waits, the more impossible it seems to explain — to explain not only the events of that fateful day, but also his own, confusing silence on the matter. Though he’s tried to plough the field, turn it all over and start anew, it still lies just beyond the surface, and a single misstep is all it takes to snarl him all over again. Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

(Akari is unquestionably the one person he's closest to. But there was a time when that singular title wasn't so clear cut.)

There’s a sort of tunnel that leads out of the stadium, a long darkened archway that passes under the audience stands. He's about halfway through when he hears footsteps from behind, swift and purposeful strides. 

His breath catches, for a moment. But Volo left first, and the arena had been flat and wide, with no corners to lurk in. Besides, it's too loud. Clearly telegraphed.

Cynthia, maybe? 

He turns. The face that greets Rei is slightly less familiar. “Lance,” he acknowledges the Champion. 

“Rei,” Lance greets in turn, stopping a few paces away. Arms crossed, silhouetted against the light of the arena and framed by the tunnel’s dark, arching walls, his tall figure is — intimidating. 

He can’t help but wonder whether that's deliberate. 

“You left before I could ask,” Lance says, and there's a pause. “As someone who has prior experience with Arceus, what do you think of all this?”

A fair enough question. But the way it's said… sounds a little too carefully worded. Casual, but purposefully so.

What sort of answer does Lance expect? 

“It sounds reasonable enough,” he decides to say. As much as he hates to lend credence to Volo’s proposal, he can't think of anything better. It somehow seems to suit their needs perfectly, which he's sure is no accident. “Back in Hisui, I was told to seek out all Pokemon, so I helped with the Pokedex. In the same way, I guess this could help fulfil Arceus' new request.”

Lance nods along, but his brows furrow. “You sounded more sceptical, earlier,” he points out. 

Ah. Not really his intent, but… “That was about the more…” he casts about for the right word, “speculative part of it. I don't know if it would really call Arceus down, or anything like that.” Though honestly, he doesn't know that it won't.

“What do you think will happen, then?” Lance asks, with clear curiosity, and, well. He doesn't really have a good answer to that. 

“... I don't know,” he admits. “I never actually completed the Pokedex, so I'm not sure what happens after Arceus’ request is fulfilled.” He had been close, but there had still been so many minor tasks that needed finishing, things to busy himself with, to arrange and get in order before he had to face Giratina again. 

He hadn't been ready, yet. Maybe Arceus had grown impatient, and brought him here to confront his problems directly. Maybe it cared. Maybe it didn't. 

(Seeing Giratina with Cynthia had felt a little like he was the punchline of some divine comedy.)

Lance purses his lips and looks off into the distance, out of the stadium, past Rei. He wishes he could read the man’s expressions better; as it is, the set of his brows calls to mind Kamado, and everything else tangled up with it. 

Finally, Lance’s gaze turns directly to Rei once again, and he speaks. “That Volo… you two know each other.” 

It’s not a question, but even then, the expression of unguarded surprise he can’t hold back might be answer enough.

Lance has one hand on his hip, the other, at rest, is framed by the drape of his cape. He looks down at Rei as he states plainly, “His clothes aren’t of modern make, so the logical assumption would be that he’s from Hisui. Cynthia confirmed my suspicion. And, historically, Hisuian communities were few and quite tightly knit. It’s more likely than not.” 

He tries to keep his expression carefully neutral, as logic digs deeper, dangerously close to things unexplainable. And the earth is already recently disturbed, soft, friable. He can’t offer much resistance. “I've seen him around,” he concedes.

“But why did neither of you acknowledge the other?” Lance looks confused; frustrated, even. “Even a passing acquaintance would be notable, with both of you being here in the future.”

And here — this is familiar. The accusations. The questions he can’t answer. But it’s different; it’s not that he doesn’t know the answers. He just can’t seem to put them in an order that would make sense, to anyone else.

(Does he really understand, himself?)

But eyes are on him, and he needs to explain, in whatever unsatisfactory way he can. “Volo and I… it's complicated,” he laughs weakly, tugging at his scarf. “He genuinely does love history and mythology, you know. I guess I wouldn't be that surprised if he was right about Arceus.” All those times they’d pored over ruins together, Volo excitedly babbling on about whatever legend this one related to — there had to have been the seed of something real, something genuine, in that. 

It’s not really an answer. Lance can obviously tell, because he crosses his arms. 

“Is he bad news?” he asks bluntly. 

There’s no twisting his way out of this one.

Some of the panic he’s feeling must bubble up onto his face, because Lance’s expression softens, just a bit. The man sighs. “Look, Rei, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but us Champions need to have all the relevant information. This tournament, the stones,” he gestures around them, “affect everyone here on Pasio. So I’m sorry about involving myself in your business, but it's necessary. Should we be keeping an eye on Volo?” 

It’s obvious what the correct answer is. And every second he delays responding makes him seem all the more untrustworthy. He questions, a little hysterically, why this of all things is what he stubbornly roots himself for, risking this place he’s made for himself in another unfamiliar land. 

But his jaw works, and all that slips out of his throat, past the thorny tangle, is a “Maybe.” The most ground he can concede. “Volo’s… passionate about Arceus.” Which is perhaps the biggest understatement of both this century and the last. 

There's an expectant pause. He almost leaves it at that, but it seems it's too unfinished a sentiment for Lance. “He wants to be seen by it.”

“The same way you are?” Lance says sharply. Arceus, he picked up on that fast. Rei hopes he leaves it at that. A rivalry fallen apart, twisted into bitterness and jealousy, nothing more.

Nothing world-ending. 

It’s not like he doesn’t trust Cynthia, and by extension the other Champions. It’s just… he can deal with it himself. It’s what he was probably brought here to do, anyway. The thought of someone else turning him over, and finding him lacking — fighting his battles for him — makes him uneasy. 

“Yeah, something like that,” he answers, with a painful swallow. 

Besides, he hopes he can resolve this peacefully. He’d beaten Volo before, even after he’d flipped the rules of battle on their head. And this time Volo can’t upend the script; one good thing about tournaments, he supposes, is that the rules are rigorously upheld. A different sort of battleground.

He wants to laugh at that. Suppositions and wildly optimistic thoughts are his only foundation, and yet it’s enough for him to reject all possibility of outside help.

Then again, if he can’t even bring himself to tell Akari, what chance does he have of breaking that self-imposed silence, here, on less familiar ground?

Lance hums, assessing this. He uncrosses his arms. “If that friend of yours does anything drastic, tell us, alright?” he says. It’s said warmly, but there's something serious to it. An undertone. “Our job is to help out wherever we can, so don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Rei tries for a smile. “Understood.”  

Lance nods, and looks Rei up and down, though it's only a subtle flicker of his eyes. His gaze lingers on the scarf at Rei’s neck, which Rei realises he’s been fidgeting with unconsciously. He lets go with faint embarrassment, feeling caught out. 

The other man sighs. “You can go, you know?” There’s resignation in his voice. Maybe even something apologetic. In that moment, he seems more like Kamado than ever.

Rei doesn’t want to turn his back to him, but he wants to be here even less. So he nods, stiffly, and turns himself around, continuing the dark walk through the tunnel and out the stadium at a steady pace.

He doesn’t run.  

(But his hand hovers by his satchel, where Decidueye's Pokeball rests.)

It’s only when he’s walked for a good while, out into the harsh sunlight, through the town outskirts and to a more forested spot, that the tension drains from him. He sits at the base of a large tree, feeling a little lightheaded.

That was… an interrogation, to put it bluntly. And he can’t really fault Lance for it. To anyone, he's sure, his actions are confusing at best.

Unfortunately, he’s found that he’s less than clear headed when it comes to Volo. He turns over Lance’s final words. That friend of yours. It’s not surprising Lance phrased it that way; everything Rei had said had been carefully woven to lead him to that conclusion.

Except it hadn’t been misdirection, not fully. He does still think of Volo as his friend, despite everything.

He slumps backwards, against the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough bark dig against the base of his skull. 

What is he supposed to do with that?

Apparently, one of the worst days of his life isn’t enough to uproot over a year of growing camaraderie and budding friendship. Too many memories knot together, a stubborn tangle impossible to pick apart. He’s tried not to think about them too hard, but they tighten their hold once again, from where they lay dormant and buried.

Many of them have been forcibly recontextualised. He’s second guessed every helpful gift, every directly admiring word, every coincidental and fortunate appearance, as something deliberate and cultivated. But some of it, it seems, doesn't fit so neatly with that singular goal.

One day, they’d watched Togepi use Metronome for an hour, ostensibly for Rei’s surveying purposes. Important documentation of a seemingly random phenomenon, and all that. In actuality, they laughed the entire time, with no useful or coherent records to speak of, as the results became all the more improbable. 

They’d camped together, those last months, as the search for the Plates got wilder and more exciting. He knows Volo’s favoured way to build a camp-fire, and how he wakes up unreasonably early in the morning, and that he prefers sweet foods over savoury, unlike Rei himself. A hundred mundane familiarities shared, taking root in fallow ground.

Once, Volo had been his only friend in the entire world.

Is it surprising, then, that he can’t lay this friendship to rest so easily?

He wonders what it means, that the hand offered to him at his lowest point was the same one that always meant to drag him back down. And what it means that he still wants to reach for it.

Had any real feelings been sowed there, on Volo’s part? Or was the entire thing a carefully constructed weaving, an intricate field of grass knots laid around Rei, ready to catch him in their snare? 

He can’t quite strangle the hope that something of their friendship still exists, even if neglected and overgrown. And that’s the part that scares him.

He has Akari, and Adaman, and Irida. He has Professor Laventon and the Captain, though they’re far away. Then there’s the Wardens, more friendly faces: Mai, Sabi, Ingo, and all the others; there's Zisu and Pesselle and Beauregard and everyone else in Jubilife. New friends here on Pasio, too. 

He pulls out Decidueye’s Pokeball from his satchel, and rolls it around in his right hand. He has his beloved Starter.

He has friends. He has bonds.

Why can’t that be enough?

The Pokeball he’s holding isn't the original. He'd had to break that well-loved possession in two, and recapture Decidueye in this modern device. It's a distant echo of its predecessor, wooden grooves and clunky iron replaced by smooth metal and near imperceptible seams. The weight of it is all wrong. 

But despite that, it's still his partner, and that's what matters.

(The two broken halves sit in his satchel, too, carried on his person at all times. It's yet another thing he can't bring himself to let go of.)

He sighs, tracing formless shapes in the dirt. His hand finds one of the sparse clumps of grass that grow here, directly under this wide and mighty tree. Deprived of proper sun, it’s a miracle that there’s any at all. 

It seems more and more likely that he’ll end up looking for Volo on his own. To get answers: not only about the stones, and the tournament, and Volo’s intentions with Arceus, but also for his own ends. 

Maybe there’s still something there. A single glimpse of life in this scorched earth between them.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do then.

Where he sits, what little grass there is has grown long and ragged, as their leaves stretch and reach for the sun. He sets Decidueye’s ball down and plucks two long blades. With a few simple loops and twists, they’re deftly woven together into a knot. He considers it, looping it around his fingers; tightens it, pulling on both ends, until he can feel the entire construct threaten to snap from the force. He stops. 

The thing is, no matter if it was never meant to be real, deliberately sowed, intended ultimately for harvest — it’s all the same, to Rei. He wants to keep it alive. He’s hopeful. Naive. Selfish.

For a single, impossible moment, he wonders whether this is what Arceus meant by bonds all along. 

The knot goes in his satchel, where it will turn dry and brittle with time. But kept safe, unbroken, regardless. Maybe his future self will laugh at his sentimentality. Maybe, he won't remember why it’s there. 

Wouldn't that be for the best?

He tucks Decidueye’s ball away, with care, then hauls himself up, both hands braced against the dusty ground. There’s dirt under his fingernails. From under the tree’s darkened canopy, he squints into the afternoon sunlight.

There’s a lot that needs to be done. He needs to train for this tournament, for one. Learn more about modern battling. Pull together a team. With that, ask Akari, and perhaps Adaman or Irida. Confront Volo, somewhere in all of this. 

After that? Only Arceus knows.

One step at a time. 

He finds his footing, around gnarled roots. The grass crunches underfoot. And he steps into the light.

(So maybe I was just snared by the grass knots you laid in my path. But if I wove my own, would you fall for it too?)

[jonathanbyersphd]

When Byler or Jancy fics exist without mentioning the other half of the siblings. Like what do you mean you're not obsessed with all of them??

[kairithemang0]

Dudeeeee is the staircase scene even real????

[wisteriasymphony]

hahaha whats the deal with juleka and marinette 👀 another case of childhood friends drifting apart and marinette ending up alone like always 😔?

yes!! i've realized i have a habit of combining show characters in order to keep the cast small (mylene's activism got repurposed for alya, max's compsci stuff got given to nino), so i decided to merge juleka with socqueline.

and when i say childhood friends, i mean they were little. like 5 or 6

their friendship started to go south in middle school, as that's when their interests really began to diverge and juliette started to lean into scene/alternative fashion like her older brother luka. this is when she starts going by juleka and dying her hair purple and such, and marinette is much more of a shoujo coquette kind of girl and started to find juleka's more extroverted behavior and "cringiness" off-putting (though, when you eventually have a body pillow of your favorite celebrity, can you really judge your ex-best friend for having a yaoi paddle)

of course, their friendship gets truly severed in high schoolwhen juleka starts dating rose and prioritizing her relationship with rose over her friendship with marinette. of course, considering rose's general disposition and love of pink is somewhat similar to marinette's... it's safe to assume that juleka found the same things attractive in marinette, but thought she would never return the feelings. marinette reluctantly dating luka later on is yet another punch to the gut.

[youchangedmedestiel]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 4,159

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Season/Series 12, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Getting Together, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, First Kiss, Second Kiss, and then more kisses, Smut, they are so gone for each other, and they obviously look at each other a lot hence the title

Summary:

Team free will is in the car driving back from a hunt when Sam mentions Cassie, Dean's ex from at least 10 years ago. After Cas mistaking it was about him, the conversation evolves into describing how Dean is when he is in love. It all clicks in Sam’s head as he tells Cas how Dean was behaving around Cassie. 10 years replaying in his mind all of a sudden. Cas asks him what he understood and Sam tells him Dean is in love with him. From there, nothing is stopping Cas anymore. This fic was written for the 5K by 5 May event.