#and it so self righteous that its really starting to grate on me

[edenfenixblogs]

Hi, I have a question and you seem like a really balanced person, so here goes: I want to join a drag king collective, and I’m so excited about it, but the king leading it has some Interesting views. It’s the kind of thing where it’s constant “fuck Zionists” and what feels like extremely performative activism (Palestinian flag in bio but no actual fundraising/peace efforts, posting misinformation/irresponsible rhetoric etc.) I’m scared that if I join it I’ll be treated different, and even more scared that my friends will think the antisemitism justified (they aren’t great at understanding what antisemitism looks like these days). Idk what to do about the fear of someone being antisemitic because I don’t want it to stop me from doing what I want, but I also know it’ll devastate me if it does happen. If you can offer any insight I’ll be very grateful.

Hi friend!

I'm really glad you reached out to me. Not because I pretend to know all the answers, but because I love that we can all rely on each other during this time.

Unfortunately, whether you sign up for this is ultimately a matter of your own personal priorities and how you are prone to handle confrontation.

Personally, if it was me, I would join. I'm not afraid of defending myself (but I very much used to be, so no shame if you're not there yet). If I wanted to explore my gender identity through performance (if indeed that is what you are doing. I've never been personally drawn to perform drag, so I cannot pretend to know exactly why one might start. But I don't think I'm out of line to assume that it involves some kind of exploration or critique of gender both personally and societally) I certainly wouldn't let antisemites be the reasons I didn't go for it.

If the Anti-Zionist jerk starts coming at you, you can simply say "OK, great. Real quick question: What's a Zionist?" And watch him squirm to say anything real or substantive other than "a Jew." He might say, "They're basically Nazis!" or "They're people who want Palestinians to suffer!" or some other confidently incorrect hyperbolic statement. If he does so, you can say, "Oh! Well, then that's definitely not what I am," and move on.

If he says something slightly more substantive, like, "They're people who think Jews should get to take land from Arabs/Palestinians in order to have a Jewish ethnostate!" You can use the same response as above. But you can also say, "Oh, weird. That's definitely not what I thought it was. Which Zionist Jews have said this, exactly? Cuz I heard it was something completely different." Remember, their goal isn't actually to educate you or help anyone or even to provide limited but factual information. The goal is to shame you into aligning with their self-righteous point of view. That is not an effective tactic when you respond with QUESTIONS instead of outright CORRECTIONS. Making people explain themselves is a great way to defang a bad faith accusation like that.

Finally, they might say, "It's someone who supports Israel." In this case, either of the above methods will work. Or you could question even further. Here's an example of a chat:

You: Supports Israel how?

Jerkface: They want Biden to use our tax dollars to fund a genocide!

You: Oh, well then I'm definitely not a Zionist.

Jerkface: No, you don't understand! It's people who think that Jews can only be safe in a settler colonial apartheid ethnostate that justified its existence by crying about the Holocaust.

You: Well then I'm still not a Zionist. I don't know why you're assuming these things about me. But people should generally cry about the Holocaust. It was really bad thing that people did to Jews. Do you not think the Holocaust is a big deal?

Jerkface: Of course I think it was a big deal. That's why we all have to condemn THIS genocide. The Jews are the Nazis now.

You: I don't know. I don't think that' show Nazism works. But I definitely don't like genocide. If liking genocide makes a Zionist, then I'm definitely not whatever you're accusing me of.

Jerkface: No! I'm just saying that Zionists don't want a ceasefire. They're trying to kill all the Palestinians.

You: I don't know what to tell you then. Because that's still not me. Of course I want Hamas and Israel to both stop bombing each other.

Jerkface: No, Palestine is JUSTIFIED in bombing Israelis because of the oppression.

You: I think its weird that you're conflating Palestinians with Hamas. Are you saying that Palestinian civilians are bombing Israel as as a protest tactic? I thought for sure that Hamas, a terrorist organization, was the group responsible for Anti-Israeli violence. Personally, I've always though that most Palestinians just want to live in peace and don't support terrorism and violence. I don't know why it would harm Palestinians to suggest that both Israel and Hamas should end this conflict diplomatically rather than with violence.

Jerkface: Right! That's why we need to tell Biden to call for a ceaseefire!

You: OK, but I still don't know if you're saying Israel should just stop firing or that Israel and Hamas should stop bombing. I definitely want everyone to stop bombing each other. But I'm not really sure why Hamas would care about what Biden says.

etc...

I call this the "Rabbi method," because when you go to a rabbi, they never really give you an answer to your question. They answer with other questions designed to get them to see their own answer.

Either Hamas is a terrorist group unfairly targeting Israeli civilians and launching bombs into civilian territories--something that is clearly bad and which makes average Palestinian civilians innocent victims (this is the truth btw) that require both Hamas and Israel too lay down their arms. OR Palestinians and Hamas are interchangeable terms and the ongoing oppression of Palestinians have driven them to violent, offensive, armed resistance--which you may or may not agree with as a revolutionary tactic (To be clear, this is NOT TRUE OF PALESTINIANS. PALESTINIANS ARE NOT TERRORISTS AND DO NOT DESERVE TO BE BOMBED). Palestine IS NOT HAMAS. Hamas is bombing Israeli civilians.

Israel is retaliating with extreme force and prejudice against a terrorist organization in a way that is devastating the lives and futures of Palestinian Civilians, who very much deserve for all sides to lay down their weapons and address their mutual grievances diplomatically and responsibly. What is occurring right now is a messy, ugly, brutal war that is killing and traumatizing all civilians in the Levant. And a one-sided ceasefire leaves the side that ceases firing dead. A ceasefire means that EVERYONE must cease firing.

Unless Jerkface has a plan for how to ensure the safety of Palestinian civilians from Hamas that also includes Israeli safety from Hamas, asking for Israelis to simply lay down all their weapons without any guarantee of safety is asking for a nation of mostly Jews to die without putting up a fight. And wanting Arab Israelis and also Jews not to die is not what Zionism means. It's not even what pro-Israel means. That's just called not being violently antisemitic, actually.

Israelis aren't mindless Zionist Nazi Monsters who get off on killing Palestinian babies. Palestinians aren't Noble Savages who have never done anything wrong as individual people and who are inherently morally superior to every single Israeli because they were born Palestinian. Both Israelis and Palestinians are complex, global micro-minorities who have both perpetrated tremendous harm to one another over the course of several decades, and neither group is going anywhere. Neither group deserves for its people to die. Neither group is only "worth helping" if western onlookers categorize them as "innocent" and "good." If someone's activism isn't geared toward respecting the inherent dignity of Palestinians and Israelis regardless of either group's history, then that person is not engaging in activism. If someone is asking you to support that cause because their chosen cause involves perfect cinnamon rolls being targeted by pure evil enemies, then they are not asking you to join them in activism. They are not even asking you to join them in a political reality. What they are asking is for you to join their toxic fandom.

And reducing this conflict down to simplistic fandom rhetoric is not going to help anyone and is frankly offensive to all Jews, Israelis, and Palestinians--all of whom deserve to be seen for the traumatized, suffering, imperfect people they are.

People don't earn support by being good. They inherently deserve support, because they are people.

All that said, maybe it's not emotionally useful for you to engage in this group. Maybe this type of conflict is too much for you. That's OK, too.

And while I would never let antisemitism take away an opportunity for me to fulfill a dream, I will say that my experience of Antisemitism during this time is 100000000% responsible for making me realize that the dreams I had before this experience need to evolve. I no longer wish to be in the town where I live. I wish to be home with my family closeby, because when the chips are down, that's who matters. The idea of moving back to my home state was unthinkable to me before October. Now? I cannot get out of here fast enough. There's nothing I want that is exclusive to my current location anymore. The community I thought I'd built for myself is gone. And while antisemitism didn't take them from me, it sure as fuck showed me that I never had it in thee first place.

If you're going to join this collective, be sure its worth the fight. And if it's not worth the fight, then look for a place that is. Exploring your gender identity freely should not come at the cost of living your ethnic and religious identities openly. Ever.

Don't trade one closet for another. You deserve more than that. We all do.

hope that helps @kit-chaos-doodle

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

WE WELCOME YOU BACK TO KNOX REACTS TO MONKIE KID EPISODES BECAUSE SOMEHOW WE’RE STILL DOING THIS AND PEOPLE ENJOY READING MY SCREAMING (though to be fair I would still be doing this if no one was reading these simply because I need to scream out at least 70% of my hype here or I’ll make strange dying fish noises when I watch the episodes with my brothers and we can’t have THAT-)

Today is Monkie Kid Season 4 Episode 9, and OH BOY I THOUGHT I WAS DOING GOOD BEING PRETTY CHILL BUT THEN MY BRO PUT ON MONKIE KID EPS WHILE I WAS IN THE KITCHEN AND THE HYPE IS RIGHT BACK

OKAY

okay

I can be cool and chill

.

I cannot be cool and chill

No theme song on this recording either ;-; i MISS THE THEME SONG BUT I AM SO GRATEFUL TO THE PEOPLE THAT RECORDED THESE EPISODES, NOTHING BUT APPRECIATION FOR THEM

okay i broke and went and watched theme song on another episode because i missed it-

AND OKAY LETS GET STARTED

GOSH I LOVE THE THEME SONG

OKAY

OOOHHH DBK’S PLACE

WE’RE AT THE DB FAM’S PLACE LETS GO

ROAST OF THE MONKEY KIDS

OKAYGBDFLKM

OKAY WAIT

HECK LEMME CONSIDER THAT TITLE FOR A SECOND

Roast of the monkey kids, either they’re gonna get beat real bad OR HECK I JUST CAME UP WITH THIS THOUGHT OR ITS THE SELF-PROCLAIMED GREATEST SHIFU OF ALL TIME ROASTING THEM DURING TRAINING THAT WOULD BE FUNNYGHLDKFJAWOEFM

Okay okay lets get started I can already tell i’ma scream

SHUT UUUUUPPPPPP

AZURE CAME TO FIND THE DBK

FR BRO

I AM CONCERNED FOR HIS SAFTEY IS HE GONNA GET IMPRISOENED T-

.

A  H   N A H

YOU DO N O T  HAVE SWK’S SCROLL PIECE TIED TO YOUR BELT LIKE THAT YOU FUZZY BURNT TOAST

THAT FILLS ME WITH RAGE YOU GUYS

IS HE GONNA TELL DBK WHAT HAPPENED TO SWK??

IS DBK GONNA REACT TO THAT??

HECK EHCK EHCK

THE WAY I GASPED

BRUH REALLY SHOWED UP AND

BEAT UP DBK’S FAM

RED SON NOOOOO

OH WOW REALY GOT ALL THOSE WEAPONS POINTED AT PRINCESS IRON FAN HECK BRO

GET OFF OF MY BOIIIIII

I WANT TO SEE DBK SLAM AZURE THROUGH A WALL BUT I DOUBT THAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN SADLY HECK

HECK

YEAH HOW DARE YOU SHOW UP AND ASSULT HIS FAMILY

Azure: um, i only did it because y’all would’ve disagreed with me :(

SQUARE UP BURNT MOLDY TOAST

WHEEZING

OKAY

WE REALLY SHOWING HOW DELUSIONAL THIS GUY IS HUH

LETS GO

BIG FAN OF THAT

MY GOSH

THEY REALLY WENT TO FIND DBK THO

AZURE IS THE WORST Y’ALL

oh oh bet he won’t go get Macaque tho *CACKLES*

WHEEZING

OH MY GOSH I’M JUST WHEEZING AT EVERY LINE AZURE SAYS WHAT THE HECK BRO

HE FR PULLED THE “THEY GUY I USED TO KNOW-“ LIKE MACAQUE DID TO WUKONG FOR A WHILE THERE HECK THATS SO FUNNY BUT WHEREAS MACAQUE HAS THIS GRRRRRR AZURE CONTINUES TO BE ALL SELF RIGHTEOUS AND TRYIGN TO SOUND INSPIRATIONAL AND LIKE HE’S FIGHTING FOR JUSTICE, BOI YOU JUST COMING ACROSS AS WEIRDO  

WOW

WOW

LOOK WHO’S TALKING CELESTIAL GUY

HE’S ALL

“tHe BeAsT hAs BeEn cHaRmEd bY a CeLeStIaL mAiDa-“ JUST SHUT UR FACE BRO MANS GOT SOMETHING SO AGAINST THE CELESTIALS WHEN HE HIMSELF IS ONE OF THEM AND STRAIGHT UP DOES PIF LOOK LIKE SHE WORKS FOR THEM ANYMORE??? HER HAIR IS LITERALLY DONE UP IN THE SHAPE OF BULL HORNS WDYM MAN

also I can’t believe I actually wanna fistfight him for taking trash about PIF who have i becomebnG;LKAMEFW

sO TRUE

DON’T EVEN LOOK AT HER YOU BLUE GUMBALL

I DISLIKE HIM STRONGLY

PLEASE DBK YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO ONESHOT THIS GUY WHYYYYY

Actually I do love how dedicated to each other DBK and PIF are, genuinely. Not the best parents in the world but I still enjoy their dynamic

AZURE YOU’RE SO ANNOYINGBFL;DSMFWE

also wait h

so here’s a question where has azure been??? talking like he’s been gone as long as Peng and Yellow Tusk, but like… where were you at bro?? In the scroll?? if so, who let you out??

HELPGNL;SAMDFAWE

SUBSERVIENT TO THE MONKEY KINGFLKDSMFOAWEF

I’M DYINGNDS;KLMFWEF

I’m also not funny losing it over the fact he has Monkey King’s scroll piece tied to his belt get out of my house

NAH BUT THE WAY HE’S TALKIGN TO DBK

SIR??? HE ACTUALLY HASNT’ CHANGED ALL THAT MUCH MY GUY

oh YEAH EXCELLENT

GET EM

NOOOOO

I KNEW IT

HECK

PIF

“my love”

PARDON?????

ACTUALLY WHO GAVE THEM THE RIGHT TO GHDSFNA;WEMF

OH MAN

HECK BRO

SHE REALLY GOT IN FRONT OF THAT HUH

HECK

HOLY HECK BRO THIS IS

HECK THIS IS SO DRAMATIC

RED SON CRYING

sorry i think its funny there was no red son reaction to PIF but then his dad gets snatched and he’s crying WE’RE FINE FOLKS

i

I don’t

I don’t have an emoji for the face i just made

THE BROKEN EXPRESSION??? THE “son-“

EXCUSE ME??

DBK FAM??

OH MY GODS??????

;A;

AAAAAAAAAA

WHAT THE HECK BROOOOOO

GOSH DANG

NEVER GET IN A BROSHIP WITH AZURE MANS IS SO DANG CONTROLLING HUH

SORRY I’M LIKE

ANALYZING CHARACTERS INBETWEEN MY EMOTIONAL DEVESTATION WHY DID THAT WHOLE SEQUENCE HURT??? MY SOUL???

DBK FAM???

HECK

RED SOONNNN

BUDDY  YOU SHOULD PROBABLY R U N

also wait is he g-

.

and this gents is where we find out if Azure is biased towards monkey king or not because he was nice to Mk I’m just saying- what am I saying ofc he’s biased

OHHHH

THE MESSANGER

INTERESTING OKAY

so well I mean i still know he’s biased

just cause he seemed so desperate for Mk to understand and not be hurt and all that but he’ll beat the crap outta red son and his fam like dang

ALSO HECK FR WHERE DID AZURE COME FROM??? DID HE ESCAPE THE SCROLL WHEN MONKEY KNG WENT IN ?? AND HOW CAN HE CONTROL IT SO GOOD?? HAS HE BEEN TRYING TO FIGURE THAT OUT FOR THE LAST COUPLE THOUSAND YEARS???

aww

AWWWWW

PENG MENTIONED MACAQUE <3 THAT’S SO SWEET

I LOVE THAT ACTUALLY

LOOK HOW DRAMATIC PENG IS WHEN HE SAYS THAT PLEASENGLKSMF

Yellow Tusk: dbk was  our last hope Peng: I MEAN THER’ES MACAQUE TOO-

Seriously you guys I think Peng thinks Macaque is cool and is trying to be cool and detached too but is leaning to far into the mean side of it HGLKSJAF

I KNOW I’M PROBABLY WRONG I JUST THINK ITS SO FREAKING FUNNY IF THAT’S WHAT IT IS

CAUSE HE’S THE ONLY ONE TO MENTION HIM, TALK TO HIM OR REALLY BRING HIM UP Y’KNOW?

Granted he’s only shown up twice but i’MJUST SAYING

Nah fr it’d be so funny if Peng found him in ten seconds and saw him snoring on a couch or something and went “ah never mind OH MAN CAN’T FIND THE MAN ANYWHERE W H O O P S”

Cause he genuinely doesn’t want them there, either cause he actually dislikes him or he doesn’t want to see him dragged into the scroll

LOOK AT HIS FACE AFTER HE SAYS THAT I’M JUST SAYING GUYS HE LOOKS LIKE HE’S LYINGNFKDL;MFWE

LIKE DANG THE MANS REALLY GONNA USE THE CURSE THAT HIS BROS GOT TRAPPED IN TO TRAP THE VERY GUYS WHO PUT THEM THERE Y’KNOW

I’D SAY POWER MOVE BUT I’D LIKE TO DECK HIM SO GHSDLFKJAWEF

OH HECK WE’RE WITH THE CREWWWWWWW

I get the feeling we’re not gonna get much of Mk in this ep RED SOOONNNNNNN HECK HE’S GOING TO TALK TO THE CELESTIALS WILL HE BE OKAUY??? HECK

Oh i love how they’ve each got personalized unifromsOH MY GODS SANDY’S WEARING A SHIRT

SCREAMS

BOTH ARMS ARE COVERED

WHAT IS HAPPENING

SCREAMS

also wow

wow

thats

quite the

open chested

MHM THAT’S QUITE THE

WHO DREW THAT

I JUST WANNA TALKGHSDFNAWEF JOKING JOKING

OKAY

Yeah Tang with his scarf, Mei with her SLEEVES RIPPED RIGHT OFF

APPROVED

HEY

HEY DON’T HIT MY GIRL IN THE HEAD

SQUARE UP FOOL

GOSH DANG

But dang they really leaning into the hit peoples heads with his stick character bit huh hGSKDJFS

Tang looks so happy eating those noodles tho heck ;-;

TANG GETS SLAMMED TOO???

MANS WAS JUST TRYING TO GET MEI TO RELAX AND EAT SOME NOODLESJGLKSFEW

PIGSY AND TANG’S EXPRESSIONS PLEASELKMGS;AOFKAMWE

Tang stress eats ;-; holds him so gently love this guy he stress eats and Pigsy’s love language is food iM COOL ABOUT EVERYTHING AT ALL TIEMS AS YOU CAN SEE

HELPGMDSFL;AWEF

MEI

The three oldies are all depressed and really feeling useless and Mei’s just NODDING yup uh huh you are that’s how it be get well soon </3

SHE AND MK WERE SO DEVASTATING TO TANG THIS SEASON PLEASEJLKMGDSF

sheer power and L U C K

.

I mean he’s got a point there- HG;SLAKJDFS

.

if they so unstoppable how’d they get beat the first time-

OH MAN I LOVE HOW NOW WE’RE GETTING MORE AZURE’S EYES SHADOWED AND STUFF

LIKE VISUALLY LOOK HERE’S THE GUY WHO’S NTO TO BE TRUSTED RN  

They’re posing him like an antagonist more, well even villain posing just with camera angles and stuff too

anyway moving on

HELPGMSLDFMSD

Mei just

unaffected by this

like dang ohh noooo another lectureeee… which i totally care abouuuuuttt…. daaaaang JGL;KSDJFSAF

WHY DOES SHE GET SO OFFENDED WHEN PEOPLE CALL  HER IMPULSIVE PLEASELMGS;OF

WHY YOU GOTTA CALL OUT TANGS ANKLES LIKE THAT HGSFLJSD

HE BETTER NOT BASH SANDY FOR BEING A PACIFIST, OR ALL PASS THIS FIST RIGHT THROUGH YOUR RIB CAGE-  sorry i couldnt’ think of something clever there but the pass this fist and pacifist was a good opening ;-;7

TOO STUBBORN TO SEE THE TRUTH?? YEAH?? OKAY WHAT TRUTH WHICH ONE?? THAT HE’S MK’S DAD?? THAT HE WAS ZHU BAJIE ONCE UPON A TIME?? ACTUALLY I WASN’T SURE WHAT HE WAS GOING TO SAY TO PIGSY BUT I MIGHT BE A FAN OF THAT ONE I WANT MORE PIGSY ARC PLS I BEG OF YOU

A

AW

OH MY GODS

PLS

LOOK AT THAT SMILE

HELLO

BELOVED

I AM OKAY WITH THIS OUTCOME 10/10

GETS A STAR

GUYS PLEASE DON’T LOOK SO MURDEROUS HELPGNMSD;LKFMA

MAN LOVE THAT

ACTUALLY OKAY ASIDE FROM THE HITTING ANYONE MIDLY HYPERACTIVE OVER THE HEAD I’M LOVING THIS GUY

OH

OH FLOWER FRUIT MOUNTAIN

THE MOUNTAIN OF FLOWERS AND FRUITS

MKKKKKKK

I DIDN’T THINK WE’D SEE HIM THIS EP

I SWEAR IF MACAQUE JSUT SHOWS UP-

MACAQUE’S GONNA SHOW UP RIGHT??

IT’D BE SO FUNNY IF HE WS LIVING ON FLOWER FRUIT MOUNTAIN FOR NO REASON NOW

JSUT OOP VACANCY HAVEN’T HEARD WUKONG IN A WHILE I’MA MOVE IN

IT’D BE SO FUNNYGBDFLSKM

also heck mah boi ;-;

pondering moment looking at the sunset

OH

OH PLEAS E

HIS FACE

THE SOFT KINDA STILL NOT OKAY VOICE

DANG MK’S VOICE ACTOR NAILED THAT LINE ACTUALLY HECK

HE’S JUST

HECK DUDE

THAT ONE FRAME

BRUH

JUST

;-;

i’m fine i swear

THE WAY I GASPED

WHERE ARE YOUR FRIENDS

AND OH YEAH

THEY GOT

SNATCHED

BRUH THAT HURTS MY SOUL THANKS

BUT OH MAN LOOK AT THIS LITTLE MONKEY COMING TO SAY HI

if its macaque disguised i’ll laugh but i doubt it is

HGL;SDF

HECK MAN

won’t even touch him ;-; goes to reach out his hand and say hi and just

doesn’t touch

goes back to looking away

and da monkey just ;-;

heck dude they’re doing a good job showing Mk’s mental state rn well done

AND BACK TO THE CREWWWW LEGOOOOO

WORN DOWN CHISELED AND DEFINED

BET

I WONDER IF THEY’LL ACTUALLY RETAIN ANYTHING THEY’RE ABOUT TO LEARN GHSDLFJSDF

I’M LAUGHING

YOU KNOW WHAT YEAH  

SANDY’S BELOVED

HE KNOWS WHO HE IS AND WHAT HE STANDS FOR AND IS ABSOLUTELY RIPPED

NO CHISELING NEEDED GJSLH;FKJSEF

i can’t help but feel he’s trying to et a rise out of the rest of them tho that’s so many stars hGLKASJDF

then again I too would give sandy as many stars as he wanted

Tang: i know my issue is my self confidence

Shifu [i’m not confident spelling his name yet i haven’t seen it the way they pronounce it here]: WRONG ITS YOUR COMPLETE LACK OF SKILL

LITERALLY EVERYBODY COMING FOR TANG THIS SEASON PLEASEJGLKM;ADSFS

MANS DESTROYING HIM PLEASELMG;SFAMEWFLSDF

TANG ON THE FLOOR DRAMTICALLY PLEASELK;MGSOEF

THE OTHERS IN THE BACKGROUND BALANCING GKLSDJFS

Tang just looking for some positive reinforcement please- HGHDFKLJSDF

IS HE REALLY PRAISING THE MONK FOR SELF-ISOLATING HIMSELF AND STRUGGLING WITH HUMAN CONNECTION??? HELPGM??

NO HE’S LEGIT SAYINGNDSLMKSDF

HELPG;SLDFKMSADF

FRIEDNSHIP TRIVIAL

THAT’S NOT

SUPER HEALTHY TO THINK

WHY IS EVERYONE ALWAYS TELLING THE CREW THAT CONNECTIONS AND FRIENDS ARE BAD PLEASELKMGOSFMAS

Oh that’s nice

Okay so he’s not like COMPLETELY bashing friendship, thank you sorry Shifu should have trusted ya more there

oh i actually vocally went “aww”

Thats nice there’s some positive reinforcement OH I LOVE THAT THO

Like your past self took a long time to learn friends good, so you overcompensated in this life and now its all friends and nothing else and you gotta find a balance there I am actually kinda a fan of that take ngl

BUT YEAH MANS GOT A STAR PLSSSS

You know what okay yes, Shifu go brrrr, we got a little positive reinforcement and now i see what he’s doing he’s just correcting the overcorrection a bit being like BALANCE PEOPLE YOU’RE ALL OR NOTHING ON ONE THING BUT OTHER THINGS ARE IMPORTANT TOO MY GOSH and Sandy already has that balance so he’s cool

yeah that’s nice

So i was right about this ep just being them getting rOASTED constantlyBGA;LKEMF

CRAM BOY

I’M CHGBDSFASDFMAOWIEFM

PLEASE

THAT’S GOOD THO

MANS JUST NEEDED A GOLD STAR AND A REASON TO WORK AND HE’S IN IT  NOW  

YOU’RE DOING GREAT TANG

ILY

MEI’S FACE PLEASELK;MGSAOFAWE F

NAH I LOVE THAT LIKE, THEY’RE THE OPPOSTIES OF THEIR PAST SELVES  Y’KNOW? THAT’S SO GOOD LIKE JUST THE REINCARNATION THING AND JUST “i don’t want to be this way it was bad so i’m going to be timid again” from Ao lei y’know? and it just, an overcorrection type thing

I’m still running off the bit that they’re reincarnations of the jttw crew and Mei’s not like, just a descendant GJULSAKJF

EVEYRBDOY JUST RUNNING AWAY LIKE NOPE NOPE

is he gonna take her out with one hit?

I love how Mei is like, phased by nobody constantly and ready to fight honestly

“Proving my point”

guys

guys I don’t think I’m normal about Ao Lei

he came on screen and i actually almost teared up, I’VE SEEN HIM TWICE BEFORE AND HE ACTUALLY MEANS THE WORLD TO ME??? I ADORE HIM?? I WANT HIM TO BE HAPPY?? HE’S DEAD AND GONE I LOVE HIM???? He’s actually so good y’all i’m

SEEING HIM IN HIS HUMAN FORM IN THE SAME SHOT AS WUKONG IS DOING SOMETHING TO ME I WANT BROTHER MOMENTS WITH THEM SO BAD

LITERALLY SEEING HIM WITH WUKONG AND THE TANG MONK IS JUST |;A;/

I’m normal about the JTTW crew you guys

i’m very normal

s

….

so basically the man just saved up for his power up and then would nail people GASLFJAWEFM THATS GREAT THO

KINDA LEARNED ALL THAT ALREADYGBSFLKMSDF

MEI PLS

I LOVE HER

SO MUCH

BRUUHHHHHH

TANG GETS STAR

MEI GETS NO STAR

R U D E

but also fair ig

I think she’s loud sometimes to cover up the fact she’s worried y’know? not the the extent that mk is but sometimes her bravado seems like all she can do y’know? heck i need to write about her i miss her

THE WAY THAT THEY DRAW HER THIS SEASON IS SENDING ME

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE THAT DREW THE FACES AND POSES SHE MAKES I’MGNSDFKMD

WHY YOU SMILING OLD MAN

HE’S A GREAT SHIFU NGL

I LIKE HOW THEY’RE DOING HIM ACTUALLY

THIS SHOW HANDLES MENTORS REAL WELL (aside from Wukong jsut cause overuse of unreliable narrator and then not showing anything to contradict all that)

I’M SO GHSDFBAS;LFKM

PLEASE

SO MANY STARS

SANDY IS VIBIN

I’M EXPECTING A TWIST BUT I DO LOVE HIM SO MUCH

MY HILARIOUSLY BLUE STUDENTHNDFKJDSF

PLEASELKMGSDF

SHIFU ACTUALLY WORRIED ABOUT SANDY CAUSE HE’S SO NICE ;-; yeah fair he is belovePIGSY

PIGSY BELOVED

PIGSY MY ABSOLUTE FAV

I know i say that about every single one of these characters but its true every time BGSLAKEFMEWAF

PIGSYYYYYYY

HE’S HAVING A MOMENT

I LOVE YOU PIGSY

like father like son, looking out at the view while you think ;-; i mean i know that’s a p normal thing for people in general bUT LET ME HAVE THISBGSDL;KFMSEF

Pigsy ;-;

heck bro

I HAVE SUCH FEELINGS FOR THIS CHARACTER THEY DID HIM SO WELL

I’M

HE’S BEING SO NICE ABOTU ZHU BAJIE

PIGSY’S LIKE

HECK DUDES I NEED YOU TO KNWO I WROTE SOMETHING JUST FOR MYSELF ABOUT PIGSY JUST HATING ON HIS PAST LIFE AND HATING HIM AND I CAN’T BELIEVE ITS CANON THAT HE’S SO UNKIND TO WHO HE USED TO BE I LOVE THIS SO MUCH PELASE

LEARN SELF KINDNESS I LOVE THAT THE SHIFU IS SAYING NICE THINGS ABOTU ZHU BAJIE THO HECK

HIM SMILING AT  MONKEY KING

heck you know

that’s

y’know that’s probably the first nice thing he’s ever heard someone say about Zhu Bajie

heck dude

heck dude bro Pigsy’s fACE

I LOVE PIGSY SO FREAKING

HE IS JUST SO CHILL SOMETIMES

DAD VIBES ABOUND

heck tho

just the

the heart that you have he worked for, he put his all into getting it and growing and he did grow and change and that effort is partially what made it so easy for you to have it right off the bat. you did good

LIKE

HECK DUDE HOW DOES THIS SHOW GIVE ME EXACTLY WHAT I WANT LIKE THISNGSLMKFS

like FOR REAL, THE WAY HE LOOKS UP AT HIM AFTER HE GIVES HIM THE STAR THERE ARE SOME FACES IN THIS EPISODE I JUST CAN’T GET OUT OF MY HEAD AND THIS’LL BE ONE OF THEM

PIGSY JUST SCRATCHING THE SURFACE OF POWER GO BRRRRR

OOP MEI WATCHING

HEPGMSLFWE

SHE’S SO MAD HGDFLK;JSDF

MEI ACTUALLY LIEK TRYING THAT FACE SHE MADE HECK EHCK

OH HECK BACK TO MK

MY BOY MY BELOVED MAN

heck dude

did the monkey bring him all those bananas? PLS I’M GOING TO CRY AT HOW THEY DRAW THE TINY MONKEYS

LOOK AT THAT FACE

OH BOY

.

OH BOY HE SAID IT

.

mk buddy i think that’s exactly why he stayed on the mountain

bruh

dude’s really feeling it heck

MONKEY STEALS HIS BABNANNAGN;SMF

SCREAMS

I DIDN’T THINK HE’D SHOW UP TILL EPISODE TEN

WHAT DO YOU WANT MACAQUE

i

wow

WOW

guys this new VA is actually killing it, like

well done

respect my guy, you filling big shoes but you’re really nailing it sounding similar WELL DONE

JUST IMMEDATELY BASHING WUKONG

OKAY MACKY BOY

OH I GASPED

HECK I’VE GASPED SO MANY TIMES THIS EPISODE

MACAQUES REACTION TO THE FLICKERING

MK FINALLY CHILL AND THEN BACK TO FLICKERING BACK AND FORTH

HECK HECK

MACAQUE’S FACE

HECK

DUDE BRUH

BRUH DID NOT EXPECT THAT DID HE

OH

OH MAN  oh man ;-;

just

THE TERRIFIED, GLITCHING

THEN JSUT

heck

what does it matter

“go for it guy”

i do think its funny how Wukongs thing is bud and Mk’s thing is Guy HGLSADJKF

man

the whole

heck bro just sits right back down

Macaque just standing there

Okay Voice actor did a very good job sounding very very similar to macaque while he’s starting to mess with Mk and then dropping into something just slightly deeper when he’s not well done sir well done

MAN

THE ITS NO FUN WHEN YOU SAY IT OUT LOUD

YEAH SURE BUDDY GOOD EXCUSE

OOO THAT’S

A LOT OF REUSED ANIMATOIN THEREGSFDLKMSF

HELPGML;SFM

THAT WAS RIGHT AFTER THE OTHERHGDSFBDSF

still looks lovely

EXCUSE ME THO GOING BACK A BIT THE WAY HE’S LOOOKING AT MK THERE TRYING TO LIGHTEN THE MOOD A BIT

mmm yeah that bit with the reused animation looked pretty rushed and clunky honestly pacing was just slightly off and the expressions didn’t quite fit with the dialogue, not as good a job as usual with the reused stuff it looked a little out of place this time around but I’m still glad they’re reusing stuff when they can

godspeed macaque what are you showing Mk hglskjdf

OH WE BACK TO AZURE

HERE WE GO

MANS SURE GROWLS HUH

HAHAHHAHGBSDFDLSMKF

AZURE MAD ABOUT HIS STUFF GETTING BROKEN AND PENG JUST MOVING ON IN A SECOND SAY GOODBYE TO THIS DUMP HGSLKDJF

I’M SORRUY BUT THE SOUND EFFECT OF PENGS LANDING WAS GREAT

I HAD TO GO BACK AND LISTEN TO IT AGAIN

OKAY

DID YOU JUST CALL YELLOW TUSK DARLINGNDLKMSFDF

hang on i gotta make sure i heard that right i’ve been mishearing things a lot lately

IT STILL SOUNDS LIKE HE SAYS DARLINGNSF;KLMSF

OKAY WELP CELESTIAL REALM TIME IG HERE WE GO

EPS GETTING CLOSE TO OVER

OOP THEYV’E ARRIVEDHGBSD;LFSE HECK EHCK EHCKE

NEZHA IMMEDEATELY

RED SON STANDING NEXTGT AAAAAA NEXT TO HIM HECK EHCKMEVDFNG;LKSMSEF HECK IT S BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE I STIMMED HECK

THE WHOLE ARMY THERE TO MEE TTHEM HECKGHECKEHCKEHCEK

WHAT AN ENTERENCE TOO

HECK EHC

AAAAA

IS NEZHA GONNA SEE SWK TRAPPED?? IS ANYONE GONNA KNOW OR CARE???

I JUST REALLY WANNA SEE REACTIONS PLEEAAAASEEEEEE THERE’S SO MUCH IN THIS EP AND IT WAS SO CHILL FOR A BIT HECK EHCK

Azure’s not but Red Son is ig CACKLESGSLD;KFMDS

WHAT A COOL THING THAT RED SON IS STANDING WITH THE CELESTIALS HUH

ITS NEAT THEY’RE OKAY WITH THAT AND NOT LIKE

LOCKING HIM UP

AND ITS NEAT HE HAS LIKE

A PORTAL FREE PASS TO GET THERE I WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT THAT

i am constantly wheezing at how Azure acts with his self-righteous sighing and long-suffering act like he’s so annoying pleasenL;GKMAWEF

THERE ARE SO MANY AMVS I CAN MAKE WITH THIS STUFF MAN

OHHHHH

OH THE SOUND I JUST MADE

THE PARALLEL WITH THE THEME SONG PLEASE

LOOK AT THAT

AAAAAAAAAAAAA

AND THAT’S THE EP FOLKS

HECK DUDE

That was a highly enjoyable one

Fr tho I love Ao Lei So much he’s so good

THAT WAS FUN

I have pretty much no thoughts after it was just kinda a nice breather ep for most of it, i’m a huge fan of how the Shifu is training them and stuff like dang

just well done, good stuff m  A N

that was fun want to write about these guys so much every single time i get anything like this hgbdfskldmf MAN THO MK

MACAQUE BEING SO MUCH MORE CHILL NOW IS GETTING TO ME HECK

I’M STILL SO MAD AT AZURE FOR WEARING SWK’S BROKEN PIECE OF THE SCROLL ON HIS BELT HOW FREAKING DARE YOU ANYWAY

I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO EP TEN DEAR GOSH WE’RE ALMOST CAUGHT UP LETS FREAKING GOOOOOOOO

I’LL SEE YOU GUYS NEXT WEEK KNOX OUT

[velvetporcelain]

unemployed & beautiful

damn happy Monday my love. started the morning out right. ice and no school. yes, puts me in a mood that I don't know what to do with. a good, anxiously happy one.

there are many things to can choose from today. will it be things of my free will or will it be chains and things, like chores and things that I dint want to do that make me feel like a slave--? I don't know what kind of sadistic shit I want to pull out of my head today so I remain idle, and longing for movement.

the winter has got me feeling like a cooped up chicken just laying eggs. so I start looking into planning my anniversary.

hmm. where do you take a man that moves and thinks differently? I thought about painting again, but I wanted something a bit more connecting- escape room. yes- then a steak dinner at one of the best running steakhouses in St. Louis, according to google. I have already made my appointment for my double nipple piercing and every time I think about it, it really sets the tone for me. Im get excited and pushy, I want to fast forward, but we all know deadlines hit you best when you're not looking. so I remain blinded, voluntarily blinded and distracted, id say that im good at that. it is usually when I ignite my creative side, and let go of the need to consume, consume, consume.

Today I feel like I need to be consuming something, but that's not really my style if I'm honest, I love creating, and I love that I get better and better at it every time its put to use. self satisfaction is the most satisfying feeling. things and choices you have made on your own, at your own will, and on your own time. intimate experience with yourself in the creating process. that's real satisfaction. I like that creativity gives you the chance to change the things that you cannot except. There is no reality in creativity, which makes it a main power source of the human mind. Sometimes I think it can take you too far, but then again, art should disturb the comfortable. and we all know how comfortable we can get.

its like when I get comfortable, I get anxious, it is when my mind is the most creative. I don't like being comfortable. if that makes sense mentally. I like pushing myself past the margins of "what is" and run with the idea of "what if", well, because I can.

I am grateful for the stillness amongst my chaos. nestled right underneath the chaos of the real world.

the other day my daughter told me my son said she was going to hell. I said " we are already here" I suppose that is score belief of mine. I think that the only heaven on earth is in fact inside the human mind. it is not a place of glory, it is peace of mind. Dying with peace is heaven. the truth is no one knows, and I love how self righteous humans can be , especially when it comes to religion itself.

what if hell was your memory? and yeah being stuck in your memories is hell. even if the memories were good, it still creates some type of hell. like a mad scientist trying to recreate his most successful expriement and expecting the same results. it just doesn't work like that. I believe that the only way to use memory advantageously is to learn from it and let it go. do not try to repeat things that were once successful to a higher mindset, It will bring you down. Being present to me, means staying in the middle of past and future, but then again I can't help but think we wake up our future selfs everyday, and nothing is ever present. presence only presents itself as the clock face. humans hate time. maybe even time can be hell. who knows.

so today! yes, today. what shall I do? just be? just flow? create? love? conquer?

I swear to god, if I hear anything nor about Taylor swift and how the women energy makes a males performance that much more enhanced-- like any fucking woman didn't know that already-- im gonna fucking puke.

fuck her and her red lip stick. okay okay, I know we aren't suppose to bash other women, but fuck her. lol she dated and used men up for each album and I think that is so genius that I hate her. HA HA

wow how raw today, I laugh at myself and say that is what happens when im anxiously idle. I think. I say. I do. is this impulse? or feelings? are we more impulsive when we are happy or when we are angry? again, impulse keeps the living alive. obviously it has pulse in its name so----- -----

gotta get more dedicated to taking care of myself, instead of killing myself. that's what I want. dedication to self preservation. I think I can manage, im halfway there with some high habits to break, but that doesn't scare me, I know what im capable of, which can work with me at times and can work against me at time, but only if I let it. my weaknesses are real, but fixable, satisfiable, and im really good at self soothing.

for fuck sake. bring on the healing.

auf wiedersehen.

-x

[emerald-chaos]

Already Gone

**gif not mine, credit to the owner below!!**

Oh hohohohoho besties. You are in for it on this one. The other night I had an idea that popped into my head and to say I got carried away with it would be a gross understatement. This is the first time I've written smut in forever so bear with me as I get back in to it. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, please feel free to send feedback!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k (oops)

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), language, ANGST (holy shit is there angst), fingering, unprotected sex (please be smarter than these two), infidelity, and I think that's about it? Please let me know if I left something off.

A/N: Thanks to my sweet, sweet friend who read through this for me and helped me fix a few things. Also I take the, MINORS DNI, warning very seriously, so please only interact if you are of age. Please have your age in your bio so I can confirm. By clicking "read more" you agree to this. I really don't want to have to block people.

The cacophonous trill of shattering glass erupted through the space. Raised voices, thick with rage, echoed off the walls. It was difficult to tell which words were coming from which mouth, the both of you overlapping as you spewed out hatred toward one another.

“What in God’s name is going on here?!” Steve shouted as he entered the room, coming back from a late night run at the most inopportune time.

“Stay the fuck out of it!” Your two voices shrilled together as you both pointed toward Steve.

You could feel your chest heaving and it almost felt as though you were foaming at the mouth. Rage was completely consuming every crevice of your body and spilling out into your actions and your words. You turned back to the object of your aggression and watched as he ran a hand through his hair and turned to walk away from you.

“You’re nothing but a coward, James Barnes. A goddamn selfish, son-of-a-bitch, coward!” You screamed with every ounce of energy you had left in your body.

The two of you had some knock-down drag-outs in your past, but it was nothing compared to this. Months of pent up feelings, insecurities, jealousies, and secrets were all coming to a head at this very moment. The last few months the two of you had been incredibly short with one another - a stark contrast from your usual loving tone. Passionate kisses became brief pecks to the cheek, midnight roaming hands became backs set to one another, and ‘i love you’s’ felt more like a habit than a genuine feeling. In your heart you feared it would come to this one day. No matter how hard you tried, how much you wanted to, you were never going to be able to fix what had been done to the man you loved. There was no amount of love in the world that could reverse the tragedy of the Winter Soldier - at least that’s what you were convinced of now.

The man in front of you turned and strode across the room, minimizing the space between the two of you. His metal hand in a fist as he brought it up to jab a finger into the middle of your chest. Pupils were blown wide, what was once a lustful look was now filled with only pure anger. As he opened his mouth to speak, spit flew into your face.

“And you are a self-righteous, ignorant, self-important bitch!”

As your eyes raked over the contorted facial features of the man standing in front of you, you realized you couldn’t recognize them. The man standing in front of you was not Bucky. It was not the man who twirled a strand of your hair when he sat with his arm behind your chair, not the man who pulled over the car to help a turtle cross the road, and definitely not the man who held you in his arms as he cried after a nightmare. The man standing in front of you was a frightening enigma of hatred and rage. This was not your Bucky. In fact, you were almost certain you lost your Bucky months ago.

* * *

You hadn’t noticed the bouncing of your knee until the man who sat beside you gently cupped it with his hand, stilling your nervous movements. It was enough to break you from your thoughts as you turned your head to meet his kind eyes.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll have them turn the car around and we’ll go back to the airport. We catch the next flight back home.” He whispered in reassurance. Even though your mind was anxiously racing, you couldn’t help but smile at the compassionate gesture.

“Of course we do,” you started, cupping his cheek with your hand as the sunlight glinted off your pristine wedding ring, “Tony was one of the most important people in my life. Plus, I’m pretty sure he would haunt me if I didn’t go to his funeral.”

8 years ago you promised yourself in the taxi ride to the airport that you would never step foot in this place again. That all changed when you got the news of Tony’s death. Your time working with the Avengers was a life-changing experience and it was all thanks to Tony. The memory of him seeking you out to work alongside Dr. Banner in the research lab was one that you could never forget. Tony was an arrogant, pompous asshole but he was undeniably a good man. You would curse yourself for the rest of your days if you let your own baggage get in the way of that.

“Alright,” your husband responded with a sigh as he squeezed your knee, “But please, promise you’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Promise.” An agreement that you sealed with a kiss.

Mike was a good man, he was someone who cared for you deeply and who made you feel safe. After your transfer to the DC Shield Office, you had sworn off any more office romances. Those never ended well. That was until your path crossed with Mike. From the beginning of the relationship, you were upfront about your past issues with relationships and how you weren’t ready to dive into anything and he simply stated that he was okay with that, that he would wait.

The marriage was a happy one, Mike always playing the role of doting, caring husband. No matter how much you pushed back against him, he was always willing to give you space and to let you feel what you were experiencing. Mike was a good man. But he wasn’t him.

Your gaze left his as your eyes returned to the skyline, the familiar pressure clawing its way back to your chest. It’d been 8 years since you saw him. 8 years since you packed your bags and left the only home you’d ever truly known. Sure, you had this new life - a new husband, new friends, new job with similar duties, but there was still a piece of you that was missing. A piece you knew could never possibly be filled again. You had come to terms with that, slowly, but it had happened eventually. Now that you were back, you knew you were going to have to see him again - see all of them again. While a lot of good memories resided within this area, there was a hell of a lot of pain that went along with it. All you could do in that moment was remind yourself that you were here for Tony - to honor his memory and pay your respects. You didn’t owe anything else to anyone else. Something in your chest, however, told you that wouldn’t be the way things played out.

* * *

The service was beautifully executed. It was obvious that Pepper had poured her heart and soul into ensuring that Tony Stark was remembered as he should have been. The walls of your heart tightened as you saw Pepper clutching their young daughter to her side. Although Tony had made a lot of mistakes in his life, he spent his last years making sure to do good and to make things right. While it felt like a hot knife had been stabbed into your chest as you said goodbye to a once dear friend, you took solace in knowing that Tony was so loved by so many. That his legacy would live on in so many different ways. And that Pepper was there to say goodbye.

It had been your plan to attend the service and then leave immediately after it had ended. Of course, life has a funny way of never doing quite what we want it to.

It was Sam who stopped you first, pulling you into a tight hug against his form as your fingers gripped his jacket. Sam, being the angel he was, never once mentioned anything from the past and instead expressed his happiness with seeing you again and learning that you were doing well. The one thing Sam was not good at however, was keeping his mouth shut. Word quickly traveled through the crowd of your attendance and one by one old friends began to find you. Wanda didn’t have much to say but kept you in a grateful embrace while you expressed your condolences for Vision. In a shocking turn of events, It was actually Peter who was the most difficult to see. The once bright, happy-go-lucky, smiling boy was visibly devastated - heavy dark bags lingered under his eyes and his glow had been severely dimmed by the loss of his mentor. You couldn’t help but cry as you held him in your arms, expressing to him how proud of him Tony was and how he’d told you just that on several occasions.

After the hellos, the hugs, and the reminiscing you had told yourself that was it, that you were going to leave. It was then that Pepper stopped you with a soft hand on your shoulder, a kind smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and a warm embrace. After a pause of silence, she pulled away and invited you and Mike to stay for the gathering that had been planned following the service. Your mind screamed at you, begging you to politely decline - tell her you had to get back to DC, that you had a flight already booked that you couldn’t miss, that you had important business to get back to.

“Of course, Pepper. We’d love to.”

* * *

The gathering was exactly what Tony would have wanted. It was family and friends gathered around eating and drinking, but most of all - it was a bunch of people talking about Tony Stark.

You told Mike before the two of you arrived that you would stay for 20 minutes tops. That it simply would be out of respect for Pepper and once you felt your presence had been noted that the two of you would slip out unnoticed in the sea of people.

That was 2 hours ago.

Laughs came easy, tears flowed frequently, and stories were shared amongst friends. Surprising to you, it felt good to be around these people again. A familiar pang of home would hit you every now and again as you reconnected with those who you hadn’t seen in years. You introduced Mike to your old friends, who welcomed him warmly and with open arms. What you had thought would be a stressful, gut-wrenching day had actually turned out to be a joyful celebration of life. The day had been progressing smoothly and you wanted to chastise yourself for being so pessimistic.

That was, until you saw him.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of a black bomber jacket, long chestnut hair falling onto his shoulders, and a familiar collection of facial hair decorating the lower half of his face. He looked as terrible as you felt at the beginning of the day. Dark circles had only grown more prominent beneath his beautiful blue eyes and the corners of his lips were drawn down in a permanent frown. You couldn’t help but notice that he’d lost a considerable amount of weight. The once broad, thick man was now far more lean and toned than you ever remember him being.

A breath caught in your throat as the cerulean eyes met yours. Unable to stop yourself, you shoved your drink into Mike’s chest and hurried off to the nearest bathroom. Barely making it in time, you emptied your day’s stomach contents into the toilet. Breathing heavily, you fought back sobs as they threatened to leave your throat. To anyone else, it may seem you were simply grieving the loss of your friend, perhaps taking it harder than most. Oh how you wish that were the case.

You knew it would be difficult to see him again, but you didn’t expect it to feel as though someone had set your entire body ablaze. The heavy feeling of grief, anxiety, and stress from the beginning of the day was crushing your lungs, your stomach still trying to lurch although it had nothing left to give up, and tears burned the rims of your eyes. As you cleaned yourself up and flushed the toilet, you exited the stall to wash your hands and rinse your mouth. You tried to convince yourself it was the entire day's worth of emotions that had led you to this moment. That man no longer had this kind of hold on you - you had moved on. Or, so you thought.

Slowly, your gaze met your reflection in the mirror. The woman there looked worn and tired, like she had been fighting a raging war that she had been losing miserably. Mascara had begun to run down the apples of her cheeks and lipstick was smeared across her mouth. A heavy sigh left your lips as you did your best to make yourself more presentable. A shaky hand entered your clutch as you retrieved your lipstick and applied another layer. You gave yourself a final once-over and decided that your current appearance was as good as it was going to get. Just as you were going to turn around and return to the party there was movement in the mirror that caught your eye. The door was being pushed open from the outside. You turned to protest, to let the intruder know that the bathroom was occupied.

“Excuse me, sorry, there’s someone--”

It felt as though all the air had been taken from your lungs and your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as you came face to face with the man you had tried so hard, for so long, to forget. It was as though you were frozen in time, as if he were Medusa - turning you instantly to stone. Logically, the thing to do would be to tell him to get out or for you to leave the bathroom so that he could occupy the space alone. However, all you could do was stand and watch as he closed the bathroom door behind him, as his fingers closed around the lock and clicked it into place.

Then it was just the two of you. Bodies unmoving, aside from the rapid rise and fall of your chests in tandem. The air felt 100 degrees warmer than it had when you were alone. The silence, paired with the thump of your heartbeat, was deafening to your ears. You were hyper-aware of his gaze as he studied you the way you had him not minutes before. His eyes finally met yours once more and there was a poignant silence before he finally spoke.

“Can’t believe you still have that dress.”

Your eyes blinked a few times, brain trying to process his words and the situation you had currently found yourself to be in. You looked down to the front of your dress and smoothed your hands down it. How could you have gone the whole day without realizing that the dress you were wearing had been a gift from Bucky on your first anniversary? You were positive you had rid yourself of anything even remotely related to him. In fact, you distinctly recall dumping a box of momentos into a barrel and tossing a lit match inside. You don’t remember making the conscious decision to keep the dress, or why you would have made the decision. Now here you were - mere feet away from the man who had put it on and so delicately took it off of you many times.

“S’perfectly good dress. Shouldn’t go to waste.” Was all you could muster as a response in that moment.

The man before you took a step forward and you took a step back, hips coming into contact with the cold marble counter of the sink.

“Thought I’d never see you again. Y’look...different.” His gaze roaming its way down your body once more.

As his eyes landed on the diamond ring nestled onto the 4th finger of your left hand, you felt a lump begin to form in your throat.

“Congratulations.” His words were cold. Inauthentic. “He’s a lucky guy.”

“What the fuck are you doing in here, James?” The words were supposed to be sharp, but instead came out shaky and insecure.

“Saw you out there, starin’ at me. Guess I just wanted a closer look at you.”

By the end of the sentence he had closed the gap between the two of you even more, chests threatening to bump one another. His metal hand slowly reached forward and brushed a piece of hair off your shoulder. The cool appendage felt like fire against your skin and you know he heard the way you sharply inhaled, but you just couldn’t help it. You swallowed hard, head reeling and knees trying to buckle beneath you when you felt his cool palm cup your fiery cheek. It took everything in your body to avert your eyes from him, especially when you felt him even closer than before - warm breath fanning the expanse of your face. Why was he doing this? What was he going to accomplish? The fight or flight response in your body was screaming at you to push him away and run, but you didn’t.

“I’ve thought about you every day since you left, sweets. There’s not a moment that passes by where you’re not on my mind.”

Your eyes closed tightly, tears now welling up and spilling over.

“Everything you said about me that night was true. I am a coward. A coward who lost the best fuckin’ thing that ever happened to his sorry, broken ass.”

A small sob escaped your chest as your hand flew to your mouth, failing to keep it from tumbling out. Bucky found a loose thread and was slowly unraveling everything you’d worked toward in the last 8 years, every step toward progress and peace that you had worked so hard to find.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, doll” Bucky was now fully cupping your face with his large, calloused hands, “I’m so sorry that you fell in love with someone like me - a broken son of a bitch who never got put back together. I’m sorry that I hurt you so badly. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you the way I promised I would. I’m sorry that -”

In a moment of weakness, before he could finish his sentence, you were crashing your lips to his. There was nothing else that existed in your world - there was only you and there was only Bucky. Seemingly moving on their own accord, your hands found their way into his hair, grasping wildly for something to hold on to. As your fingers tugged on his roots, Bucky let out a deep moan into the kiss, sending a shiver down your spine.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate, all tongue and teeth. It was a balance of dominance between the two of you - although you were the one who initiated the kiss, Bucky was the first one to gain access to the inside of your mouth, and you were the first to tug his lower lip between your teeth. A pathetic mewl left your lips as Bucky’s mouth began trailing wet kisses across your jaw and down the column of your throat. The heartbeat in your ears from earlier was much worse now, making your head throb in pain. Every nerve ending in your body felt as though it was on fire and a small voice in the back of your head kept pleading with you to stop. For a moment you entertained the idea of shoving him off and telling him to fuck off, but that was before he started sucking that spot on your neck that he knew drove you mad. It was your turn to moan this time as you involuntarily arched your back, pressing yourself up against his firm torso.

You knew the way that you were tugging on the strands of his hair had to be incredibly painful but it only seemed to urge Bucky to continue. A soft gasp tumbled past your lips as you felt Bucky’s thigh push against your aching core. The sensation had you digging your fingernails into the back of his jacket as you finally released your grip on his hair. Before you could stop yourself, you could feel your hips grinding yourself down against his clothed thigh. Your dress had been pushed up around your waist, now only a small piece of cloth covering you as you desperately chased a high.

“I shoulda never let you go. Shoulda been at the airport to stop you before you got on that plane.”

His teeth sunk into your pulse point once more, earning himself another moan from your lips. The sting was soon replaced with the cool sensation of his tongue tracing the marks he had left.

“I love you, doll. I haven’t ever stopped lovin’ you.”

“Show me,” you whimpered pathetically against his shoulder, “show me you love me, Bucky. Please.”

An audible breath caught in his throat as he pulled himself back to look at you. Your chest was heaving, make-up smeared once more, and your pupils were blown wide with lust. You obviously weren’t able to see the look you gave him, but judging by the way he looked back at you it was fair to say you looked broken, pathetic, and desperate for him. The eyes looking back at you had the softness to them that you remember, the strokes of his hands against your body contained the passion that you’d so been longing for, and the tone in his voice told you that he was desperate for you too.

Within seconds your feet were lifted from the ground and your ass made contact with the cold, wet countertop. There wasn’t a lot of room, objects were scattered onto the floor and others were left to push into your hips with aggressive force, but you just didn’t care. It was impossible to care when Bucky moved your knees apart and dragged a finger along your clothed pussy. The sensation made your head fall back against the mirror with a hard thud but you couldn’t feel any of the pain from it at all. The only thing you felt was the way electricity rippled through your body when he used his thumb to apply pressure to your aching clit. Bucky groaned and rested his forehead against yours, lips slightly parted as he felt your need for him growing.

“So wet for me, just like I remember. Lemme make you feel good, sweets, hmm?” He had leaned forward to whisper softly in your ear as his teeth grazed your lobe.

It was you who reached down and shoved your panties down your thighs, meeting a surprised look from Bucky as he helped you drag them down to hang around your ankle. Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he hooked his hands underneath your knees to spread your legs open for him. Another groan came from him, this time more guttural than the last. You felt small underneath his gaze and the cool air in the bathroom brushing across your soaking core made you shiver.

Your hand flew to your mouth to suppress the noises you made as his finger slipped through your folds, running up and down to collect your wetness.

“More. God. Please, Buck. Need more.” You whined, attempting to roll your hips against his hand to find any form of friction that you could.

“Anything for you, baby.” He whispered as he gently inserted a finger inside of you. The two of you moaned in tandem.

There was a brief moment of embarrassment with the way your walls immediately clenched around his finger and the way his finger immediately found that soft spot. It was shortly replaced with a feeling of ecstasy. Bucky captured your lips with his to swallow your moans as he added another finger. The way his fingers were curling and pumping inside of you already had you close to the edge. Bucky pulled back and held your gaze as he added pressure to your clit with his thumb, circling the area as his fingers continued to repeatedly hit that spot inside of you.

“Please, please don’t stop.” You begged as you felt the pressure building within the lower part of your body.

“S’okay. I’m right here.” Bucky’s other hand was cradling the back of your head as he whispered to you. “I know you’re close. Can feel you squeezin’ me. You can let go for me, I got you.”

As your eyes met his, foreheads pressed together, you finally came apart. The white hot sensation tears through you as your legs quake. You squeeze your eyes shut and allow Bucky to help you ride through your orgasm as he peppers light kisses along your neck.

“I almost forgot how pretty you look when you cum.”

You whine at the emptiness and loss of contact when Bucky removes his fingers from your center. As your eyes flutter open you see him push the fingers into his mouth and suck them clean. The look on his face was euphoric.

“God. Almost forgot how fuckin’ sweet you taste too.”

Mustering up all the strength you had, you sat up and pulled him closer by his belt. The two of you worked together to rid him of his pants and boxers. Your hand wrapped around him, thumb swiping the red tip and using the pre-cum to help lubricate as you pumped your hand down his length. Bucky’s jaw clenched as he moaned at the sensation. Just as you were going to leave the counter, you felt his hands grabbing your shoulders and halting your movements.

“Maybe a different time, sweets. But right now I gotta be inside you.”

You caught your bottom lip as you nodded and released your hold on him. Bucky’s hands wrapped around your thighs as he pulled your hips to the edge of the sink. The metal hand left your thigh as he grabbed himself at the base and pushed his length through your folds. The two of you once more shared a moan at the sensation. As he lined himself up with your entrance, your hands wrapped around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. The next thing you felt was the familiar sting of his cock stretching your walls as he slid into you. Your lips left his and your forehead found itself pressed against his once more. Both of you panting heavily as neither of you dared to speak a word.

Following a moment of silence, allowing your body time to stretch to accommodate him, you nodded slowly as to signal to him that it would be okay for him to move. His thrusts were slow and calculated at first, as if he was attempting to regain his memory of your body - one that he once knew so well. You couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his shoulder as you held on to him for dear life, subconsciously afraid that if you were to let go of him he’d be gone again forever.

“Faster, Bucky. Please.” You whimpered into his ear as you took his earlobe between your teeth and nibbled softly.

A low growl left his chest as he grabbed your hips and lifted you off the counter, moving slightly so that he could cage your body against the wall. You wrapped your legs firmly around his waist, locking them at the ankle. His thrusts became faster, deeper, and it was apparent he had gained his confidence back.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Just the way I remember.” He grunted as he dug his fingers harder into your hips.

His lips were on yours again, this time tears were starting to decorate the corners of your eyes. The pleasure, the regret, the passion, the guilt - every feeling was building up along with your orgasm. Bucky pulled away from the kiss to tap on your bottom lip with two of his fingers, which you greedily accepted into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits until he pulled them out and used them to circle your clit. The added pleasure was almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, baby. Wanna cum with you. Can you do that for me, huh?” Bucky whimpered, his thrusts beginning to falter from the calculated snaps he was giving you before.

All you could do was nod your head quickly as the pressure steadily increased, bringing you to the brink of your second orgasm.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much, oh my god.” Bucky grunted as the two of you reached your peak together.

You leaned forward to bite down on his shoulder and suppress the scream that left your mouth as pleasure erupted through your body. The two of you assisted each other through the high of your release and you felt your ass make contact with the cool countertop once more.

The only noise present in the space was your heavy breathing and a small dripping noise that came from the sink. Bucky’s final words before he came replayed in your head over and over again as you attempted to slow your breathing and bring yourself back down to earth. Your body shuttered slightly as Bucky slipped himself out of you. As you sat up, you noticed he was looking around the bathroom.

“Shit, sweets. I don’t think there’s anything I can use to help clean you up.” He sighed and turned to meet your gaze that was locked upon him.

“It’s fine, Buck. Not a big deal.”

Bucky bent over and helped you pull your panties back on before he redressed himself. Neither of you spoke for what felt like eternity.

“I-...” You muttered finally, “I love you too, Buck. I thought I was over you, I thought I moved on but...I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you no matter how hard I try.”

Bucky reached out to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand as he listened to you lament to him. His eyes were soft and caring and you could almost swear he was looking into the depths of your soul.

“I think —“

Your conversation was cut short by the sound of knocking at the bathroom door.

“Hey, are you okay in there? Do you need anything?” Mike’s voice had your entire body flooded with the shame of your infidelity. In one swift movement, you were on the floor and turning the sink on to make it appear you were just washing your hands.

“Y-yeah I’m fine! Just finishing up! I’ll find you out there in a minute!” You squeaked.

Mike seemed to pause for a moment before you heard his footsteps retreat from the bathroom door. A wave of relief washed over you, but it was only temporary. As soon as you were relaxed the gravity of the situation you were in was clouding you once more.

“I have to go. I can’t give him any reason to think he needs to come in here.” Bucky nodded, eyes not leaving yours as you spoke while collecting yourself, “but we need to..we should..we have to address this. Later.”

“I agree.”

“Our flight leaves tomorrow night. I’ll...see what I can come up with as far as an excuse. Then we can put this to bed for good.”

“Absolutely, sweets.”

The nickname made your knees buckle once more as you sighed.

“Goodbye, James.”

You finally tore your eyes from his as you unlocked the door and slipped out of the bathroom. In reality, however, you knew this really wasn’t goodbye. Not even close.

[codename-adler]

Hey! Hi, so I have seen that you ship Kevin and Aaron very much. Now, I read your 9th part of the foxes + onesies series and well now I'm craving more Kevaaron. I love them so much, but I have the hardest time finding good fics for them. So could you recommend me some of your favorite Kevaaron fics? (you can give however many you want, but no more than 10, cause I know you are going to give good recs and if I start reading one, I won't be able to stop until I finish all of them.)

Well hi!!!

I read (and publish) all my fics on ao3, so I hope this won’t be a problem! Also, most of these Kevaaron fics, if I remember well without the tags, are rated Mature or Explicit, so I’ll try to diverse my recs a bit but if these are too much for you (or any of you) please don’t hesitate to ask again for more sfw/G-rated fics, and I shall answer your call! And, I’ll only suggest completed fics, because I’d hate to leave you hanging.

The only fic I will recommend that is not on ao3 is the first one. 

Kevaaron Fic Recs

Twilight & Daytime - @ukamushu_the_bibliophile on Instagram

This. This fic. I have followed the chapters since day one. It is now complete. What was even better than this fic is the friendship I’ve been blessed to form with its writer, Kammy. She is an amazing woman and a wonderful writer who gave each character of our beloved series a new and unique twist, and much more depth. Kevin and Aaron are lucky to have her writing them, and we are lucky to have her for reading her sweet, heartfelt and honest story. This fic is an emotional journey, but a welcomed one. I urge you all to read her story and encourage her and show her some love!

(44 parts, completed, TW at the beginning of each posted chapter)

* Summary to be added once I get it from Kammy *

coming loose - dhedy on ao3 

I mean... I think we all started there... 

(13 chapters, 26,300 words, completed, G)

“  “What are you doing?” Aaron heard the door shut and closed his eyes. Even his eyelids were sticky. “It’s hot,” he said, the effort of peeling the words from his lips lingering in the form of sweat dripping down his face. “I was asking Andrew.” From somewhere near his feet, Andrew said, “It’s extremely hot.” - it's hot, and the twins are disgruntled, and aaron can't stop hoping for things he can't have. “ 

twin high maintenance machines - thisnightsrevels on ao3

This is slowburn af but god is it good.

(1 chapter, 17,500 words, completed, G)

“ Healing was never going to be easy, but maybe together they could find a way

Kevin and Aaron have grown sick of living under Andrews thumb, and slowly they're coming to realise that there are better things to live for beyond the bottle he shoves in their hand. “

The Thing About Andrew - aristotlethecat on ao3

This shit gets heavy but... so worth it.

(11 chapters, 10,300 words, completed, M + TW + Explicit)

“  Kevin is ignoring Andrew after canon events because of the choking thing and he finds solace in late night talks with the more sane of the two twins who has also suffered at his brother's hands. “

all of the things (that i’m not) - vertigo on ao3

Oh boy, this? This is a heartwrenching AU, slowburn-y and angsty and. ugh.

(5 chapters, 47,500 words, completed, M + TW + Explicit)

“  It took three swats of his racquet (heavy, short in length, shallow net depth, one parallel red mark on the middle of the body) to break Kevin's hand and spirit. “

or; Kevin never really heals from his hand injury, never goes to PSU, moves to Cleveland to co-coach its Exy team that just happens to have Aaron as one of its backliner...

Honey, You’re Familiar - OfficialStarsandGutters on ao3 

I don’t have words for this. A comfort fic of mine for sure.

(1 chapter, 18,300 words, completed, M + TW + Explicit)

“ Kevin is so warm, and solid, and bright. He is Enjolras, Achilles; the blazing hero, self righteous and certain, and Aaron is just a lost companion stumbling in his wake, grateful to be in his presence.

When the fuck did he become a Kevin Day fanboy? Because fuck that. “

I Wanna Make You Move - sheerpoetry on ao3

It’s NOT just smut, okay? It’s not. There are feelings.

(6 chapters, 9,600 words, completed, M + TW + Explicit)

“ Kevin is drunk. Aaron is drunk. Andrew is oblivious.

(Kevin hits the dance floor after hitting the bottle. He finds Aaron, who actually doesn't mind his company.)

[Then neither of them wants to let it go and it's a journey for everyone.] “

Only Fools - Moth2Flame on ao3

Oh this is dark. But it gets better. Promise.

(1 chapter, 12,400 words, completed, M + TW + Explicit)

“ Aaron was just going along, minding his own business, content in his life and then... feelings.

Unwanted ones. Bad ones. Ones he shouldn't be having and ones he definitely shouldn't be having about Kevin fucking Day.

The thing is, Aaron's not particulary good when it comes to feelings.

In fact, he could almost give Andrew a run for his money when it comes to being self-destructive in his stubborn determination to deny them

Set post-canon, and AKA: Aaron is an angry prickly cactus and Kevin just wants to hug him (but with angst) “

(don’t matter what) people say - psychOmidget (cominupforair) on ao3

We all need therapy, especially Kevin and Aaron. 

( 1 chapter, 8,000 words, completed, M + TW)

“ Aaron knew he was bi.

He had long come to terms with it, but he believed that he could pretend he was straight as long as he kept dating girls.

But then Kevin happened. That’s where Aaron’s carefully constructed world really started crumbling. With him and Kevin kissing on his bed, legs tangled and hands roaming each other’s bodies. “

And so I’ll stop there, even if I got more suggestions... You know where to find me if your life lacks some Kevaaron again!

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Snap Part 1

Read on Ao3 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Inspired in part by the lovely @random-snippets‘s post here

Warnings: roman angst and everything that goes with it. self-esteem issues, self-hatred, insecurity. sympathetic everyone

Pairings: roceit, platonic DLAMPR

Word Count: 5540

Most things in life are flexible to some degree. You can push and pull and bend them in certain ways and, to some extent, they will comply with you. There are some things that you can bend and bend and bend. Creativity is one of these things. Creativity, imagination, dreams...they can be shaped and changed into whatever you want.

Bend...and bend...and bend...until they snap.

Janus enjoys teasing.

He finds that it often reveals true intentions much better than simply taking someone at their word. Plus, the range of reactions he gets is endlessly amusing.

Patton will stutter and stammer adorably, or he’ll put on his Dad Voice™ and attempt to scold. Logan, depending on what sort of mood he’s in, will sass him back or give him a death glare. Virgil definitely isn’t the type to snipe back, keeping up with Janus blow for blow. Remus is…Remus.

But Roman…Roman is different.

Roman used to be the most fun to tease, puffing himself up in a fit of righteous princely indignation to defend himself, going red in the face only to be set off again moments later. Janus could spend hours just tilting his head this way and that as Roman muttered himself in and out of circles and paradoxes and contradictions. It used to be quite an effective way to shut the prince up, letting him stew in his own thoughts.

It’s still an effective way to silence Roman, but it’s changed.

It started after the wedding.

Roman had shut himself away in his room, much to the chagrin of the others. They expected a temper tantrum, they expected sulking. Logan and Patton were constantly on standby for the minute Thomas would start being affected by it.

They didn’t expect Roman to emerge a few days later and quietly ask to talk to each of them.

He apologized.

A proper apology; for mocking his name, for calling him evil, for dismissing him out of hand. Janus can only guess by the looks of pleasant confusion mirrored on the other Sides’s faces that they received similar apologies.

Janus hadn’t been surprised when Roman extended a nervous offer of having him and Remus come around to their side of the Mindscape more often, saying that they had…valuable insights to offer. He hadn’t been surprised to see Roman extend the olive branch to Remus, only for Remus to promptly snatch it up and hug his brother so tightly Janus winced in sympathy for Roman’s ribs.

Patton, as was to be expected, was overjoyed, throwing his arms around the princely side in what could only be described as euphoria. Logan had been surprised, saying he hadn’t expected Roman’s surprising amount of maturity regarding the issue, including the way Roman had promised to listen to him more often. Virgil had shrugged, saying it was about time Roman started doing that anyway.

He hadn’t thought anything of it, not really. And it had been pleasant, being listened to. Not being treated like a villain.

He should’ve known it wasn’t going to be only a few days for Roman to completely change his black-and-white view of the world.

Roman listened more, that was true, but he didn’t talk as much either. He stood quietly, occasionally asking softly for clarification.

“…L-Logan?”

Logan pauses mid-sentence, glancing over at Roman. Roman sits there, twisting his fingers together.

“Yes?”

“Can you…slow down a little bit?”

Logan blinks. He’d been talking about recent discoveries made in the field of quantum physics, just getting to the part about how SUSY particles could reconcile the different interpretations of the expansions of the universe. Roman had been the only one who volunteered to listen, and he half-expected Roman to dismiss the topic entirely or say he had some important thing to go to. He had not been expecting this.

Roman did not seem to interpret his silence in this way.

“It’s just,” he stammers frantically, “it’s not that I’m not interested, I am, I can assure you, I’m just…I’m having trouble keeping up with you.”

He balls his hands up tightly in his lap, staring at Logan with a frantic sense of urgency.

“It’s okay if you can’t or you don’t want to, y-you’re not boring me, I promise, and I don’t want you to stop, but can you please try and talk a little slower? I don’t…I don’t want to miss anything,” he trails off.

“It’s…it’s quite alright, Roman,” Logan says carefully, “I’m happy to slow down.”

Roman’s face breaks into a relieved smile. “Okay, thank you, I don’t know what’s going on with me today.” He taps the side of his head with a self-deprecating smile. “Not all here, it seems. Sorry, Specs.”

“You needn’t apologize, you haven’t done anything wrong.” Logan adjusts his glasses. “I would be more than happy to slow down. Are you quite sure I’m not boring you?”

“Absolutely not.”

Logan smiles. “…good.”

“C-can I say what I’ve gotten so far,” Roman asks hesitantly, “and then you can correct me where I’m wrong and then jump back in when we get there?”

“Of course.”

Roman had Remus share almost as many ideas as he did, but he didn’t share his own as much either.

“Roman? Do you have anything to add?”

Roman shakes his head, a small smile on his lips as he watches Remus bounce excitedly on the balls of his feet.

“I believe we have a solid idea,” he says, gently elbowing Remus, “and there is nothing I can do to improve it.”

“You know, Ro-Bro,” Remus says, shoving Roman back, “you’ve gotten so much less boring.”

Roman chuckles lightly, picking himself up off the wall. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Oh, I am!” Remus claps his hands. “But are you sure we can’t build in the part about—“

“We are not unearthing a roadkill corpse, Remus.”

Roman didn’t puff up when he was teased anymore, but he didn’t defend himself in any other way as much either.

“Could you be more extra,” Virgil sighs, nudging Roman, “really, Princey?”

Roman pauses, before slowly lowering his hands. “I am, aren’t I?”

Virgil’s eyes widen. “Guys! Guys, I got Roman to admit that he’s extra!”

“You did what?” Remus vaults over the couch. “You did it!”

“That is in fact a marvelous breakthrough,” Logan says, drinking his coffee, “especially for Roman.”

“Good to see you’re finally developing some self-awareness, kiddo,” Patton says with a wink, patting Roman on the shoulder.

Janus smirks, shifting in his chair. “Yes, because Roman’s observational skills have always been at the forefront.”

“Alright, alright,” Roman says finally, waving his hand, “I’m extra, I get it.”

It took far too long for them to realize that just because Roman’s behavior had changed, it didn’t mean he wasn’t still struggling with the ramifications of it. It took them far too long to realize that Roman still clung to the ideas of heroes and villains, the roles had just shifted. It took them far too long to realize that the ego, still hiding its black and blue skin, was still living in fear, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It took Janus far too long to realize he wasn’t doing his job.

“Oh, come now, I’m only teasing.”

“And that’s supposed to make everything better, is it?”

Janus pauses, the sharpness in Roman’s voice killing the follow-up in his throat. His eyes don’t widen at how Roman looks at him. For the first time in a long time, Roman’s gaze is filled with fire as he stares at Janus. It gives him pause for a moment. Just a moment. Then his smirk is back.

Good. You were starting to get boring.

“You realize that saying you’re teasing doesn’t make it hurt any less, right?”

“Oh, sweetie, there’s really no need to get so worked up—“

“Don’t pretend that your intention has not been to make me uncomfortable.”

“Then why’re you letting it get to you so?”

“…so if Remus tries to knock me out with his morningstar, I shouldn’t get hurt because it’s his intention to hurt me?”

Janus blinks. This is absolutely the direction he thought Roman was going to go. “That’s not quite the same thing.”

“So I shouldn’t prioritize emotional and mental pain the same way as physical pain?”

“…I didn’t say that—“

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it frustrating to have your words taken out of context and applied in ways you obviously didn’t mean? Wow, I wonder what that feels like.”

Janus’s surprise is hidden quickly as Roman takes a deep breath in. He expects Roman to bite back, to push, to hurl acid-laced insults at him. Given how Roman has been taking most of…this lying down as of late, he expects it, even if he would be a little...disappointed. In some way, he doesn’t deserve it.

That’s exactly what happens.

“…I understand that you care and you help in your own way. And I’m grateful for it, really, I am. You…you make people look at themselves—really look and you make me think and it’s great but it’s exhausting.”

Roman buries his face in his hands, pressing his fingertips hard to his eyes. It doesn’t hurt to see him so…tired.

“I can’t—I can’t do this all the time. I can’t do this most of the time. You know that. As a matter of fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if that were the point.”

“…I do have a point.”

“You always have a point. That’s the problem. You are nothing but points, there’s nothing to you but—“

Roman stops, taking a deep breath and pressing his forehead with a fist.

“No, sorry, that’s…that’s not true. The version of you that you choose to present to me and to the others most of the time is nothing but points. There is no softness. No give. Not an ounce. It’s always a fight. I have to…double and triple check every single thing that comes out of your mouth, and I’m not…I…”

Another deep breath. Something softens.

“I respect you. I admire you. I like you. But I don’t know what you want from me.”

Janus isn’t shocked.

Not just at the fact that Roman is expressing all of this out loud, not just at what Roman is saying, but how the bitter taste slowly filling his mouth isn’t coming from any of it.

Roman isn’t lying. Not about this.

What happened in those days when you shut yourself away?

It takes him a moment to realize Roman is waiting for an answer.

“I don’t want you hurt.”

Roman huffs. No malice behind it, just exhaustion. “You enjoy putting me in situations that actively make me uncomfortable and you have enjoyed hurting me in the past. Try again.”

There’s a moment of silence. Then Roman sighs.

“Look, I don’t think I’m in the right space for this conversation and the last thing I want to do is mess this up any more than I already have, can we…can we do this later?”

He nods slowly, even though it takes him back to hear Roman ask for something. It doesn’t sting a little to know he isn’t the one that’s made it easier for him to do so.

“Thank you, I—you...you know I care about you, right?”

Not many things can take him by surprise, not many things can make him more surprised than this conversation already has, but this…this earnest confession, this does. He nods.

“Good.”

They don’t speak for days. They don’t even see each other for days. Then Roman has an episode.

The others are away, helping Thomas. Roman is alone. He rides the attack to its end but he’s still trying to recover. This one was bad. He needs to get up, he needs to eat, he needs to drink, he needs to but he knows if he stresses out too much about this, he’s just going to send himself into another attack. He’s trying to breathe but it’s hard. It’s so hard.

Janus wasn’t even looking for him. And yet there he is, sprawled on the floor, hunched over, hands trembling as he struggles to breathe. For a moment he worries at how much he can feel that Roman’s afraid. Afraid of Janus. Janus…he hasn’t exactly shown him his…full capabilities.

And, in his defense, really, Roman is so clever, so sweet, so open that he can’t help but play with him, test him, poke at his comfort zone just enough to see him squirm. And Roman is lovely, truly, he is. And yes, part of him was thrilled when Roman finally snapped at him, but he’s right. Janus is…he has not been good to him.

Time to change that.

He approaches slowly, crouching, and offering a hand. The suspicious look that he gets doesn’t hurt his chest. He does blame him. But Roman trusts, he trusts too easily sometimes and this wouldn’t be the first time Janus has ever taken advantage of it. He tries to convey that he won’t break it when Roman takes his hand. He tries not to think about how much of this is Roman going along with it if only to prevent himself from being hurt.

He leads Roman to one of the common spaces on the Dark Sides’ hallway. It’s almost never used anymore, not since the barrier between Light and Dark started breaking down. He looks at Roman to see such an unsure expression that he can’t help the soft noise when he guides him to sit on the couch.

Janus keeps Roman in the corner of his vision as he carefully shrugs off his cloak. He considers draping it over Roman’s shoulders but decides that might be a bit too much. Too much for right now, even as his mouth starts to taste bitter.

What does he want? Roman can’t stop thinking it. He’s three seconds away from another attack, what’s happening, what’s going on, I don’t know what to do—

A gentle hand cups his chin and he distantly thanks whatever higher power there may be that Janus’s gloves aren’t a bad texture. But then he has to make eye contact and oh it’s the worst. He doesn’t know what’s keeping this fragile peace. He knows Janus will see through any mask he tries to put on right now.  

But not wearing a mask…he’s not sure he remembers how to do that.

He tries.

I’m trying, I’m trying so hard, can’t you see? Can’t you see that if you just tell me, I’ll be good? Whatever you want, I can do it, I promise, I’ll be good, I can be good, but I can’t do it if I don’t know what you want and if you tell me I’ll do it, just tell me what you want me to do, I can’t figure it out, I want to be good, but I don’t—I can’t—what do you want?

Janus sees. He sees all of it and it doesn’t break his heart.

He lets Roman go, the ache getting worse when he immediately shuts his eyes. He crouches, waiting.

When Roman opens his eyes again, he tries to offer. What do you want? Let me help, if you want?

Too much, perhaps. So he tries smaller.

Roman’s unsure when he offers his hand again. He…Janus doesn’t like being touched. But would he really be offering if he wasn’t okay with it?

Janus smiles when Roman reaches a trembling hand out. Slowly, carefully, he takes it in two of his, playing with it gently. Running his fingers over the back, tracing the knuckles. Roman’s hand is so much more...worn than the others. There are calluses, scars, so many stories that Janus can’t help exploring, smiling a little when the light touch makes Roman twitch. Even here, Roman’s scared of doing something wrong. His fingers tremble, try and move to match the shapes he makes.

Keeping Roman’s hand in his, Janus stands, tugging in a gentle ask for Roman to come with him. Roman stands up too fast and a second pair of arms shoots out to steady him. He looks so small…smaller still when Janus sits them down on another couch, between his legs.

Stay with me, Roman.

Playing with his hand again gets his attention, the second pair of arms holding Roman close. He waits. Waits to gently tug that hand a little closer. Roman shuffles. His phone tumbles out of his pocket and Janus catches it with his third pair of arms, setting it carefully on the table.

He lays back, all six arms accounted for. Waits.

Is something you want?

Roman looks so apprehensive, reaching out with his other hand. He folds Roman in gently, letting him move at his own pace, easing his weight down on top of Janus like they’re afraid of hurting him. As soon as he’s all the way down, still propping himself up to keep the weight off of Janus, Janus embraces Roman tightly, smiling a little at the way he instantly goes limp, exhaling sharply. Part of him takes a little selfish pleasure at having Roman in his arms; he’s so warm, he’s just the right weight, he fits so perfectly. But he’s still so tense, poor thing…

Just as he did with his hand, he explores gently. He lightly traces up and down Roman’s sides, wiggles his fingers as he runs them along Roman’s spine. Smirks a little when he feels Roman’s muscles tense and shift as he squirms under the gentle attention. Sweet little thing is ticklish too, hmm?

Like Roman, he doesn’t want to risk breaking this moment with too much noise, but he has to really fight the urge to coo and fuss when he starts scratching his hands through Roman’s hair. Roman whines for him, completely involuntarily, and it’s so small and tired and hopeful and adorable that he can’t help seeing if he can make him do it again. He can.

They have no idea how long they lie there but an alarm on Roman’s phone breaks the silence. Janus barely glances at the label—‘stop and get back to work’—as he shuts it off. He laments its intrusive presence as Roman startles horribly, scrambling up. And he can’t help himself, he catches him.

Roman should get back. He should do so many things but Janus is being so kind and he’s not too warm and Roman has no idea how he’ll react and what if they never get this chance again and he’s holding him so gently and the way he’s looking at him…

Is this something you want?

Janus lets out a soft oof when Roman throws himself at him, wrapping his arms around him so tightly he’s sure it hurts. But it’s the thing he wanted and the thing Roman wants and it’s perfect.

He clings to Roman just as tightly until his own arms ache from it. Still, he holds on, until Roman slumps, burying his warm face into his scales without hesitation. Roman’s breathing stutters, he’s still so scared...so Janus softens, gentles his grip, goes back to the soothing touches from before. Tries to lull Roman back into that half-doze they were in before. It takes a long time, much longer than he’d like. Roman keeps jerking himself awake, his fists clenching and unclenching, unsure where to put his head, where to put his arms.

He breaks finally when his fingers hit a sensitive spot on Roman’s back and Roman gasps, Janus instinctively holding Roman closer and smoothing the hair away from his ear.

“Shh…shh…” One pair of his arms come up to hold Roman’s hands. “Shh… shh…”

I want you to calm down, Roman, that’s all I want right now. Shh…

It takes several minutes of careful shushing to get Roman to relax, several more before his breathing evens out and he dozes, right there in his arms.

They still need to talk. Roman’s carrying so much grief with him that, now that he’s looking, he can see the strain. Roman is so tired, he can feel it. And he desperately wants to know what happened to turn Roman into this frightened creature, constantly bracing for a blow, so confused in the face of any affection. But for now…

He’s self-preservation, protection when protection is needed most. Of course he can be caring.

He leaves Roman in Patton’s care, giving them the space they need to make sure he doesn’t push. Not now, perhaps not ever. He receives a gentle thank-you when they happen to pass in the corridor. And it’s…good. There’s a sweet aftertaste in his mouth when he talks for a few days.

A few days later, his mouth tastes horribly bitter again and he knows it’s time. He appears to see Roman sitting ramrod straight, staring at the wall.

“…well, you certainly look as calm as can be.”

“Oh. Hi, Janus.”

“Hello. What seems to be troubling you?”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry. I’m alright.”

The lie tastes sour. “May I join you?”

Roman nods.

“Thank you.”

“Did you need something?”

“Are you…in a proper enough headspace to have that conversation?”

“…yes. Yeah, I think so.”

He can’t quite taste another lie. This is probably what Virgil means when he says it’s important to trust people about their own boundaries.

“I have a proposition for you. I would like you to hear me out before commenting.”

“Of course.”

“…you lie quite often.” Roman nods. “You are not of the opinion that lying is inherently wrong.”

Roman shakes his head nervously.

“You use lying as a defense mechanism to protect yourself, don’t you?”

A new wave of bitterness.

“…do not be afraid,” he says quietly, “it’s quite common.”

Roman’s brow furrows a little.

“Your first response to any question that causes a heightened emotional response is usually a lie,” he explains, “because your instinct to protect yourself kicks in and forces you to say what you think the asker wants to hear.”

Roman’s mouth tightens.

“It also coincides with the need to make yourself as small as possible. If you…do not require many things, or if you do not actively contribute to things that require any extra effort, odds are you will not be hurt.” Janus tilts his head. “I believe Virgil calls it ‘being low maintenance.’”

Roman huffs a laugh and looks away.

“Does that sound about right?”

“…mhm.”

Janus fiddles with the cuffs of his jacket almost absentmindedly. Roman has developed a…particular style of dishonesty that intrigues him.

Roman is very open about vulnerable topics; speaking freely and without hesitation about how he feels about his looks, his mannerisms, his sexuality, pretty much every aspect of themselves that the Sides can think to ask about. But that’s not the same as actually being vulnerable. It’s hiding behind too much honesty, taking advantage of the fact that others don’t tend to talk about those types of topics in that much detail to let them mistake it for actual vulnerability. But it’s not. It’s just a different type of hiding.

It’s not a lie. Not even a lie of omission. Which means it’s harder for Janus to detect. Even harder for the others. So it’s easier for them to believe Roman is more honest than they are. Which let him get away with lying, let him get away with sacrificing his own needs, let him get away with hurting himself.

The pitch is the easiest part, Janus decides. Definitely.

“Virgil and I have an arrangement of sorts,” he opens with finally. “Logan helped us figure it out. If…one of us receives an answer they believe is untruthful, a second chance is offered.”

“A…what?”

“If I ask Virgil a question, or if Virgil asks me a question, and we don’t believe the answer we receive to be true, we say: ‘second chance.’ Then we have another chance to answer. There are never any consequences for lying, or choosing to take the second chance.”

“…so…”

“So if I were to ask you what’s troubling you—“

“It’s fine,” Roman says quickly, “really, it is.”

Janus gives him a small, sad smile. No, no it isn’t, but this will serve as a good point.

“Second chance?”

Roman’s mask slips. It’s a good mask. Right up there with Patton, and Logan, if he’s being evaluative. Perhaps even up there with his own. But it’s cracking.

“You know it’s unwise to try and lie to me, dear,” he pushes.

Ah. Too much. Fear swells up behind Roman’s eyes and he stammers.

“…I…”

“If you do not wish to tell me,” he soothes, “I will not force you too.”

“Then I would rather not say,” Roman says carefully, each word laid down for Janus’s inspection.

“And there are no consequences.”

The wave of pure relief that washes over Roman is enough to make Janus smile properly. There’s a horrible moment where he looks like he doesn’t believe it, he’s waiting for the punchline, but then it doesn’t come and Roman just slumps, a massive weight rolling off his shoulders. Janus can’t help but watch the corner of his mouth tick up higher and higher as he realizes it’s okay.

“Well, judging by that expression,” he says, “this certainly will be awful for you.”

Another thing about Roman is that for some reason, probably tied to his connection to the Imagination, is that he has this…field around him. Janus is sure Logan’s not interested in it at all and they haven’t spend hours upon hours talking about it. But he can feel the wave of care and love and relief that hits him, making his heart ache pleasantly in his chest.

It’s gone far too quickly and Janus isn’t saddened by it, his brow furrowing when Roman fidgets with his hands, obviously trying to work up the nerve to ask something.

“…why…when you said this was common,” he says eventually, “what did you mean?”

Ah. This won’t be difficult at all.

“The…sophistication of your coping mechanism indicates that it has been developed over a long period of time,” he starts.

“…okay?”

“Not uncommon in victims of abuse.”

“What…what are you talking about,” Roman stammers, obviously trying to laugh it off, “I—I haven’t been abused.”

Oh.

Oh, that’s…oh, Roman…

“We have ridiculed you for expressing vulnerability,” Janus murmurs, “we have ignored you when you express deep feelings. Sometimes, when you attempt to speak about them, we tell you that your feelings are not worthy of your reaction, or we are indifferent.”

Janus shifts, letting his regret bleed into his voice as he continues.

“We have manipulated you to get what we want. We have used shame to make you feel bad.” Janus clenches his fists in his lap. “We have led you to believe things are your fault when they aren’t. We have pushed you to question your sanity.”

There’s an awful silence.

“We’ve been gaslighting you, Roman,” Janus murmurs, “and worse. Tell me, what does that sound like to you?”

Any semblance of relief from earlier vanishes, replaced by denial, worry, panic, and so much anxiety for a moment Janus worries Virgil’s going to be summoned.

Then his mouth fills with an acrid taste, coating his tongue so much it almost chokes him.

“…I’m sure you know that I’m summoned by continuous lying.” Why I appeared in the first place.

Poor Roman barely hears him enough to nod.

“I know what the lies are when I hear them.”

Another nod.

“Which means,” he murmurs, reaching out and gently touching Roman’s temple with two fingers, “…I can hear these.”

Roman freezes.

“There. That.” Janus’s eyes widen. “Oh, oh no, sweetie, I’m not here to be cruel to you.”

Roman doesn’t hear him.

“Breathe, honey, come on…in for four, hold for seven, out for eight.”

Roman’s not breathing at all. Janus leans forward to try and help when Roman’s mouth opens, his voice sharp and determined.

“When people lie,” he says, “does it hurt you?”

“What?”

“Does it hurt you?”

He knows what Roman’s asking and he adores it, of course he does. He adores that Roman’s so worried about hurting him, not himself, Janus, that he’s willing to punish himself by forcing away a defense mechanism that he’s had for years because it might be hurting Janus. He loves it.

“…no. Not a direct correlation,” he says, “no. More often than not, I can tell or sense what the truth would be and…that is not often pleasant. But no, Roman, you are not physically injuring me when you lie.”

“And what about when you’re telling the truth?”

“…sweetie, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself far more that you’re going to hurt me.”

Roman’s face pinches as he looks away, so determined that it looks completely painless. It doesn’t hurt.

“Would you like a hug?”

“N-no, no, I’m fine.” Roman’s hands don’t shake. He doesn’t hunch around himself protectively.

“Second chance?”

“…please?”

“Come here.”

He’s warm, but not warm enough. His aura is relieved, but not relieved enough. He’s still, but not still enough.

The bitter taste in Janus’ mouth isn’t horrendously painful.

“No, sweetie, you’re not being inconvenient.”

You have hidden this so well, so well we never realized how much this hurts you.

“I’m not angry with you for trying to protect yourself.”

I will be the first to admit that I have…not acquitted myself well from the things I have done to you, please let me try now.

“You’re not hurting me.”

Don’t deny yourself comfort, especially when you need it so badly.

“And no, sweetie, I don’t hate being touched as much you think I do.” Janus does find it easy to cry, he does get overwhelmed easily. And yet the lies he can hear right now threaten to make tears spill over. “…must you be so cruel to yourself?”

“…sorry?”

Ah, yes, apologies. That’s a conversation for another time. Janus sighs, running a hand through Roman’s hair. “At any rate, it’s not like you’re nice and warm and much better suited than the others.”

Finally, the bitterness recedes, just a little. Janus swallows, washing away the last vestiges on his tongue, cuddling Roman closer. He looks down, seeing his mouth open and close. Laying a finger gently against his lips, he shushes Roman as he tries to speak.

“Hush, you don’t have to say anything, sweetie. I understand.”

“Okay,” Roman huffs, “I will say the whole…mind-reading thing is not ideal.”

Fair enough. “I am only paying attention right now because you seem to be having some difficulty speaking,” he murmurs, chucking him gently under his chin, “I will not be all the time.”

“Okay.”

“Or you could simply…not lie to yourself.”

“Unrealistic.”

It makes him laugh a little. “Something to work on, no?”

Roman nods, gently head-butting Janus’ hand. He smiles, cupping Roman’s chin, idly tapping his fingers. The smile grows when Roman closes his eyes, tipping his head back so Janus can scritch lightly.

“Perhaps it will help you with these,” Janus murmurs, lightly stroking his fingers over the shadowy bruises just below Roman’s collar, “hmm?”

“…Thomas, huh?”

Janus raises an eyebrow when Thomas summons him. “Well, this is entirely expected.”

“I need your help.”

“Then this can’t be serious at all.”

“It’s about Roman.”

Janus pinches off the rest of his sarcasm. “Tell me.”

“I, uh, I made a…discovery,” Thomas says, “about…things.”

“How remarkably descriptive.”

“You know the phrase ‘bruised ego?’”

Janus stiffens at Thomas’s words. “…I am familiar.”

“…turns out it’s a lot more literal than I thought.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

It’s Janus’s job to protect the ego.

What…what has he done?

“He doesn’t care for you at all, sweetie.”

Roman opens his eyes, peering up at him with poorly disguised hope.

“Neither, for that matter,” he continues, running a thumb over Roman’s jaw, “do the others. Virgil, for one, despises you for being able to make him feel so wonderfully safe.

“Patton thinks the absolute worst of you—“ he pats Roman’s cheek— “and the care that you give so freely to others.

“Remus, well, he of course doesn’t value you at all,” he drawls as he tucks a loose piece of hair behind Roman’s ear, “let alone your willingness to touch and interact with him as he’s so used to that.

“And Logan would definitely prefer it if you were to never be so clever and considerate ever again,” he finishes, stroking his thumb across his forehead.

“I don’t think,” Roman murmurs, “that I’ve ever been so glad to be pretty fluent in sarcasm.”

“Yes, your sarcasm is absolutely awful.”

“Yes, I know, I love you too.”

He expects a familiar bitterness to wash over his tongue. It doesn’t.

Oh.

Oh.

“You don’t have to say it,” Roman mumbles, almost about to doze off in his arms, “you don’t have to say anything. It’s just…it’s there if you want it.”

“I definitely won’t take it,” he says as he presses their foreheads together, “and you definitely can’t fall asleep right here.”

There needs to be another conversation. He needs to know what happened after the wedding. He needs to know how, or perhaps more accurately, why Roman changed in the span of only a few days. He needs to know how Roman got so good at pretending.

He tries not to think about how much worse he’s made it.

…he also would like to know exactly what Roman meant when he said he loved him.

[loveinterestcastiel]

erosion

I wrote some endverse fic based on a @lateral-org post asking a FANTASTIC question:

When/why/how did endverse! cas get rid of the trenchcoat and what was dean's reaction?

Rated M. Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence. Word Count: 4.1k

tagged some mutuals and people I thought might be interested in this under the cut, if you want tagged in this/future fic or want me to remove your tag dm me!

erosion

Of course, Sam said yes in Detroit. So why dream about that? He lived it every day. The redundancy was irritating at best.

Where the fuck did I leave my boots last night? Cas cursed under his breath and embarked on a thorough search of their cabin, the coarse words warm and familiar on his tongue as he yanked on his socks. I really am starting to sound like Dean.

Dean’s boots were already gone, his gun and thigh holster absent too. He’d left his green jacket behind, tossed carelessly aside last night and hidden under the trenchcoat on the floor at the foot of their bed. He slipped his coat on over his clothes and shoved Dean’s jacket into their pack- he knew he’d want it later, even if it was just for the drive back. He slipped on the worn coat, habit- he’d stopped wasting Grace on its upkeep a while ago, but it was still important. It felt like comfort, in some strange way, so he kept on wearing it despite the worn-through elbows or the stubborn little bloodstained spot on the hem.

He’d dreamed of Detroit, last night, again. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to dreaming, as unsettling and involuntary as it was. It felt like the unfair hijacking of an otherwise enjoyable human bodily function, and he resented it altogether. He snagged a bit of weed from his stash and tucked it in next to his flask, sweeping out the cabin door and into the frigid morning sunshine, giving Chuck a lazy wave as he ambled past his cabin to the truck lot, kicking little pebbles across the packed dirt at imaginary targets with a super-human precision that grated strangely on him today.

“Big run today,” Chuck said with a tentative smile, his hands clasping a chipped mug filled to the brim with his ridiculously indulgent tea, wafting a cascade of steam out over the railing of his cabin porch before dissipating into the air. “Don’t forget the perishables if you can get at them, ok? We’re seriously low on-”

“Toilet paper, milk, cheese, butter,” he interrupted, “plus sugar, flour, canned fruit, hygiene products, toothpaste, toilet paper, coffee, meat if we can get it, .35 and 9mm ammunition, mechanical oil, gasoline, propane, rubbing alcohol, gauze, surgical tape, toilet paper, paracetamol, and oh, toilet paper again!” Cas recited dryly, rolling his eyes. “You gave us a written list yesterday. Twice. Couldn’t fuck up blackout drunk.”

Chuck snorted, shaking his head in self-deprecation. “Just doing my job, Cas.”

“We’ll do ours,” he called over his shoulder, continuing down the central path briskly. “We’ve all got our part to play.”

What was it Lucifer had said to Dean, that night Zachariah stole him out from under Cas’s nose and threw him into the future? No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter… we will always end up here.

It certainly seemed like he was right. Most days, it seemed like they were all hurtling towards the exact same place Dean had caught a wretched glimpse of, once, with the brakes slashed and emergency failsafes offline, and no indicator that the impossible choices they were making every day were anything but inevitable. He knew that Dean still had nightmares about his ending, but he didn’t know much else about Dean’s nightmares anymore but what little snippets he could garner from what Dean mumbled and cried out in his sleep. He’d lost the ability to dreamwalk a while back. Three nights after the Croatoan virus wiped out Fort Worth and they were forced to fall back, he tried to enter Dean’s sleep to watch his dreams in the dubious refuge of a closed down Motel 6 off of interstate 70 as they ran west, to see if there was some piece of information they’d missed, some new choice they could make one day that could change the path they were on.

It simply hadn’t worked. He mourned the loss of one more skill in the darkness of their room that night as Dean slept uneasily in the bed beside him, one more thing which, in its absence, made him ever more useless to Dean, much like the loss of his ability to time travel, or to smite their enemies with ease. Flight was becoming difficult by the day, and he knew in some part of his mind that his wings would be the next to go, and he would be grounded, permanently, on Earth and not in Heaven.

And so it goes.

Anyway, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice about anything these days. Once Michael had taken Adam, they lost their only trump card. Heaven didn’t need Dean anymore, but Hell desperately needed Sam. It was a shame, it really was, that Sam’s gamble hadn’t paid off.

It was a miracle Lucifer let Dean go. He had brushed him off as a non-threat. Unimportant on a cosmic scale, however important Dean was to the vessel. To Sam. So Dean walked out of that run down building alive, and he was the most beautiful, terrible thing Cas had ever seen. His soul shone brighter than even an archangel’s grace in his rage and trembled with the fierce sharpness of grief, and it was glorious, righteous.

Godly.

Even as Cas’s memories softened and blurred, becoming tinged with a mortal haze, that memory of Dean remained in a sparkling clarity. He could imagine no life, no moldable version of the past, in which he did not choose Dean. From the very first moment his soul had reached back to cling to Cas’s Grace in Hell, Cas had fallen, was falling, would fall, for Dean. It was inevitable, his love. They were inevitable. They fell together in the time after Detroit, into battle, into bed, and into cosmic obscurity. Soon, too soon, their losses began to outnumber their wins, and they had to make more and more certain regrettable sacrifices just to stay alive. Cas was used to collateral damage, far more than Dean was, but whatever the other humans in their ragged camp believed of him, he wasn’t unaffected. Just the opposite, in fact. He had never felt anything before, not for billions of years, an incomprehensible existence of light and intent and obedience and war, and now he felt everything. That- not Dean’s disappointment, or the slow loss of his Grace, or his Father’s unyielding silence- was undoubtedly the worst part of becoming something like human.

Some days were better than others, of course. Some days he took precious little blue or white or green pills, all different shapes and sizes and he felt good. Numb, pleased, far away. Quiet. Others, fewer than the days he had his pills, he took shrooms, LSD. Molly, twice. Often he took nothing at all, craving the wicked pain and emptiness it created in him as his sobriety enhanced the ache his dwindling Grace left behind, needing the punishment to feel real before forcing himself into a tumultuous sleep after days spent horribly awake with half a bottle of rotgut sloshing in his stomach. He still liked joints, rolled meticulously, their verdant smoke curling up deliciously in his lungs and setting him up on a lovely little metaphorical cloud the best, and then, they were even more so lovely when he shared them with Dean. There was nothing, nothing like passing it between them, before transitioning into trading hit after hit between their mouths, brushing against his soft lips, breathing his air, watching Dean’s cheeks flush a stunning pink and holding tight to his deep golden hair, dragging him down into slow, languid kisses that desire deepened and turned into a precious sort of holy consumption as the high hit its stride in them both.

He was sober today, mostly, just riding out the last of some gorgeous pink pill from a nearly full bottle he’d just scavenged out a few days before. It made him feel floaty, focused, fearless. He felt almost like he did two years ago, before his reeducation stint in Heaven. Angelic. It was nice. He’d take another, later. Maybe Dean would want to take one, too, and they could fuck high out under the stars on their quilt again like they did last October and feel like the real Gods of this stupid little planet, on top of the world, on top of Dean, cradled in the soft embrace of his thighs, and worship each other.

Take that, brothers. Castiel smiled viciously at the sky. You’ll never fuck God like I have.

Standing impatiently among their motley caravan of vehicles in the sickly yellow light of a midwestern April morning sun, his back to Cas, Dean’s silhouette and the flashing imprint of his soul- the only one Cas could still see clearly- caramelized into a sweet union of tangible and not that pulled at his stomach and swept him into the siren song of Dean’s being and woke up the hungry creature that lived in his heart and craved DeanDeanDeanDean.

No one else was there yet, probably all still dicking around at the camp mess and drinking shitty chicory. His feet fell silently on the earth, leaving behind the sound of the universe and the vibrant humming of Dean’s soul- and oh, he hoped he could always hear that symphony, even when all the rest of his powers had run dry.

Just as he reached out to take Dean by the shoulder and turn him around, Dean moved with a sudden burst of energy, like a coiled snake striking out. He whirled around and met Cas’s eyes, took him by the neck and the waist, and kissed him. His lips moved with a gentleness that contradicted the intensity of the grip of his cold-fingered hands as they worked their way into his hair, wormed their way under his trenchcoat, and touched the bare skin they found where the hem of his t-shirt met his jeans. He met the kiss eagerly, licking teasingly at the seam of his lips, biting down gently and coaxing Dean into opening his mouth. He pushed Dean back until his back hit the nearest rusted army-green truck with a small thudding noise, pressing himself up against Dean and tugging on his hips so they were pressed flush against each other, the contact sending and electric thrill racing up his spine.

“Cas,” Dean gasped out at the sensation of their bodies meeting, the air punched out of his lungs.

“Mmm, morning,” Cas murmured between kisses. “You’re out here early.” Dean’s neck was uncharacteristically bare above the neck of his rough brown sweater, creamy and invitingly unmarked. Cas indulged in the impulse to change that, working his way over the tender skin, sucking and biting until a bruise began to bloom below the junction of Dean’s jaw and neck, worrying it with his teeth until it was a deep reddish-purple.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Dean whispered, letting his head fall back against the truck window, baring his throat further, and closed his eyes. He seemed almost happy, today. He seemed to light up in the lead-up to their more dangerous missions, and Cas didn’t want to think about that right now. Didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Didn’t want to wake you up,” Dean elaborated.

“I appreciate that.” Satisfied with the rather outrageous hickey he’d created on Dean’s neck, Cas pressed it with one last kiss. “How’d you know I was behind you?” he asked, pressing their foreheads together and slowly grinding their hips together lazily, just breathing Dean in.

“Felt you,” Dean said, bringing their lips together again briefly. “Always can.” One more little kiss.

“Dean, last night, when you couldn’t sleep, I dreamed again about Detroit-” Cas started to confess feverishly, almost against his will, Dean stiffening up at his words in his arms, and was interrupted by the sound of people approaching, footsteps, voices, and an earsplitting wolf-whistle directed at their compromising position.

Dean’s face shuttered immediately, and Cas felt every scrap of easy bliss flee his body.

He pulled back with more than a little reluctance, his stomach twisting as a fakely jovial grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Let’s go, fearless leader. We’ve got a mission to run, don’t you know?”

“Don’t start with that fearless leader shit,” Dean said tightly, rolling his eyes away from Castiel’s face and fixing on a point somewhere over Cas’s shoulder. “Who’s driving?”

“Looks like Cas is driving,” Joe called out mischievously.

Risa smacked him in the chest. “Get in the truck, idiot.” She turned her gaze to Dean, an odd glint in her eye. It felt sticky and wrong in his core but Cas stamped the feeling down. “Group brief over the radio on the way?” she asked.

“Yeah, at 8,” Dean said, sliding into his unshakeable militaristic persona with a firm nod. “Should be fairly straightforward in and out supply grab. Intel says the Croats cleared out of Roanoke a couple days ago, left major infrastructure and commerce sites relatively untouched. It’s a good thing too,” he added, “we were getting spread a little thin with most goods.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

———————————————————————

It was not, in fact, easy.

Their intel was wrong, so wrong, and Cas didn’t know how the fuck it happened, but they were fine, they were almost finished, closing up the trucks in the alley behind the supermarket and waiting for Dean and Trish to return from sweeping the perimeter, when out of what seemed like thin air and with no more than a broken shout for warning there were more Croats swarming them than he’d ever seen in one place before, and Joe and Maya and Kris were dead, and Dean was nowhere to be found.

The Croats had the remaining seven pinned down against the main truck, snarling and screeching and reeking of blood and gore, strips of flesh and clothing that once adorned their companions now dangling from their teeth. Their single-minded need for the endless consumption of human flesh and that it was currently being denied drove them to a terrifying frenzy, but the hunters were starting to push back, and the Croat numbers were thinning slowly but surely. Cas thought he saw Allen get bitten, but next he glanced at him he looked fine. He’d need to check on that if they made it out alive. He resigned himself quickly to the idea of killing the man before they got back to Chitaqua- Allen was a nice enough man, quick-witted and skilled with a blade and a loom, but nothing was worth bringing a Croat back to camp. He owed it to the man as a human being to grant him a swift death if he’d been infected before Allen himself could realize it. A shot to the back of the head, unawares, had to be better than a clumsy battle and inevitable stab to the chest (Cas knew he would always have the upper hand against a human, even when he had fallen in full) with fear in his heart.

He buried his angel blade to hilt in yet another Croat’s throat, yanking it out and ducking out of the way of the spray of blood that followed in a well-practiced motion uncanny in its speed. They would win this one.

But still no Dean.

Cas felt a bubbly panic rise up in his chest through the haze of battle as it became clear to him that Dean wasn’t coming back. Even from the other side of the building or from inside, there was no way that Dean had not heard the commotion of such a large fight.

Something was stopping Dean from coming back to him.

“Risa,” he shouted over the din to the woman on his left. “Dean and Trish-”

“I know,” she interjected tersely, hacking the head off of a skeletally thin Croat in a tattered suit. “Retrieval? We’ve got this handled here as long as this all the fucking bastards around.”

“I’m going in,” Cas said quickly, slicing at a particularly bold (stupid) Croat trying to charge him. It crumpled to the ground and twitched once, and was still. Some of its companions fell on the body ravenously, and were subsequently cut down in turn as they began to tear at the corpse. “Leave as soon as you’re able; I’ve got the keys to the main truck. Cover your right,” he warned Risa, and, sensing an opportunity in the parting sea of Croats before him, ran.

He was through the service doors of the building before the Croat hoard could even begin to respond to his escape, and their noises were quickly muffled by the service door as it locked automatically behind him, leaving him in relative quiet.

There were a surprising number of crates and boxes remaining in the storage and unloading zones, either empty or nearly so, and he quickly ascertained the area was, apart from himself, devoid of life or anything of interest to the camp.

Cas.

Dean's sudden prayer hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut.

Aisle... his mental voice trailed off for a second into indistinct sounds, colors, and waves of pain. Aisle seven. It's bad.

Cas shoved through the access door into the freezers, and out into the store with a recklessness he would have been ashamed of had he been so terrified.

He turned down aisle seven and skidded to a halt, frozen at the sight that greeted him, and tried to make sense of the hideously macabre tableau.

Trish's decapitated body lay the furthest from him, her ribcage torn open, her organs spilling over her arms and scattered in pieces over the floor. Three dead Croats, all headshots, around her remains. Then a bloody lake on the cheap linoleum tile, thick and viscous and so, so red, two more dead Croats, clearly more hard-won victories, their arms hacked at, heads partially removed, and nearly blocking the last body from view, wedged up against the shelves and bloody as it was.

"Cas," Dean wheezed, lifting his head laboriously to meet his eyes, blood bubbling up between his lips and staining them. "Cas, I'm so sorry-"

"No, no, don't talk like that," Cas said desperately, kneeling beside Dean. He took their pack of his back with shaking hands and shoved his angel blade somewhere inside. "We can fix this. You'll be okay."

"Cas-"

"You will!" he said, too loudly and startling himself.

"My ribs," Dean panted out in pained little gasps. "Broken. There's something in my back." He twitched minutely as if to show Cas the problem and immediately convulsed involuntarily at the pain the movement caused him, a horrible rattling moan in his throat. "My leg. Right one. Broken too." His jaw was clenched so tightly it was a miracle he could speak at all through the teeth-grinding pain he was in.

"Okay," Cas said faintly.

Cas...

Oh, he hated feeling. Sometimes he thought it made him useless. He missed being cold. Brutal, uncaring about pain or death. But this was Dean, and he'd never actually been particularly good at being a machine, anyway. "Okay. Dean, I need to see your back," he warned him, before moving him as gently as he could and angling his body so that he could get an unobstructed view of his back.

There was a crude metal stake wedged just an inch to the left of his second and third thoracic vertebrae, rusted, twisted and cruel-looking.

"Dean, I- I have to try to heal you," he said slowly, knowing that Dean wouldn't want him to be wasteful with his Grace. But this was beyond what human field medicine could help.

Dean didn't respond. He'd fallen unconscious.

"Oh no, no, no, baby," he babbled under his breath, trying to figure out the best way to extract the bar of metal. "Hold on," he muttered, grasping the stake firmly and bracing Dean's body against his own, trying to avoid fucking his broken ribs up more.

"Father, please, if you're still here, if you're listening, if you care at all," he begged, "help me."

Of course, his Father didn't answer. Gritting his teeth, Cas yanked out the stake and tossed it aside, immediately covering the wound with his hand. He summoned his Grace together and it responded sluggishly, but his hand was glowing and Dean's back was knitting back together.

As the skin merged into a puckered, raw-looking pink scar, Cas dropped his hand away from the wound and found himself utterly breathless, gasping for air and drained.

Dean was still unconscious.

He leaned Dean back up against the shelving and took a moment to figure out what to do next. Dean was still dying. He was still in danger. He couldn't be moved, nor could they stay put. He quickly opened up their pack and realized in horror that all the medical supplies were with Risa and AJ on the trucks and so, so far away by now.

He yanked his coat off with a twinge of regret. It was bloodied and worn and what he was about to do with it felt like a milestone he was loathe to reach.

He shredded it into long, wide strips, not letting himself think of how it was the last piece of Jimmy Novak, or how he had repaid the man's sacrifice by being party to the end of the world they both wanted to protect, or how Claire Novak had stopped praying to him weeks ago, now. He got on with the job, this is just a job, I can fix this-

He managed to wrap Dean's leg up decently tight, straight and stiff, but he had quickly discovered it was broken in several places. He didn't know what he could do for Dean's ribs, and he felt, as if from a distance, how Dean's breath was coming shallower and shallower, and he made his choice.

He laid his left hand on Dean's broken leg, as gently as he could. Leaning forward, he smoothed the wispy little baby hairs he loved to tease Dean about back, off his sweaty, pained, precious face, and, placing his right hand on Dean's crushed ribs, near his heart, touched their foreheads together. He looked at Dean's soul, his shining, beautiful (fading) soul and knew.

"I love you," Cas whispered, his voice wrecked. With that finally said, he grabbed his exhausted, weary Grace, and though it fought him and slipped through his grasp, he got hold of it and he pushed everything he could, everything he was into his hands, into Dean.

When he had done it, when he had drained himself down to mists and vapors, and had saved Dean, he gathered him in his arms, and carried him back to the truck on numb feet, leaving the scraps of Jimmy's coat behind in aisle seven.

When the truck broke down thirty miles from Chitaqua, and their radio too, he turned to Dean, pulling on a blue-ish jacket they'd picked up earlier during the run. It fit well.

"It's a good look for you," Dean said gruffly, staring at Cas with an expression he could not recognize. There was blood still smeared on his cheekbone, he noted absently.

"Oh. Yes. Well, thank you," Cas answered, adjusting the sleeves.

Dean tugged at the tan fabric strips on his leg, wincing at the pressure.

"You did a good job, Cas. With this fabric splint from your coat-"

"I know you won't be able to walk it," Cas said quietly, unable to meet his eyes even as he interrupted him. "I did what I could, but you'll be weak for days. You need time."

"You can leave me, Cas," Dean said, a strange, pinched guilt-pain-tenderness on his face. "You can come back for me."

"No," Cas said, smiling, and choking, and took Dean's cheek in the palm of his hand with a terrible ache rising in his throat. "I can't."

April 19th, 2012, under the peak of the Lyrids meteor showers, Cas flew for the last time, right up to the gates of the camp.

When they landed, a millisecond and millennia later, his wings burned away into nothingness in a wave of electric, minty-white pain that forced him to the ground. In the aftermath, panting and sweating and shaking in Dean's arms and clutching at his handprint on Dean's shoulder, he realized his Grace, or what was left of it, anyway, had consolidated into a bright little ball in his chest. Like a soul.

The realization was followed by another. Despite his earlier conviction that it would one day be lost to him, he could still see Dean's soul- behind his teeth, in his chest, radiant like a halo around his head, and worth, a million times over, and a million again, falling for.

Tagged:

@heller-jensen @sunforgrace @rambleoncas @adhdeancas @evermorecastiel @holmesemrys @plantdadcas @good-things-do-happen-dean @jeanne-de-valois @autisticandroids @sonder-stars @yana125 @faithcastiel @cascreamtiel @seffersonjtarship @i-sing-for-me @purgatorybi @bibelphegor @cowboyslikedean @gracefuldean @dimples-of-discontent @judaskissdean @wafflehousegothic @icaruscastiel @67chevyimpala67 @lesbianjenderenvy

[madara-fate]

While i do know Gabi did eventually change ( thankfully) i think my general dislike came from her over the top hatred of the eldians ( her own people) and her worship of the people who oppressed her people.

Also the reason i mentioned the older warriors..Annie, Bertholt, and Reiner was because by the time we as readers saw who they really were.. they were already so conflicted about if they were right or not they were literally forgetting who they actually were, even when Bertholt called them devils its seems like he didn't believe it himself. Annie even cried when they had to kill Marco.

It might be because we already knew these characters and they never seemed hostile or bad people then when they did reveal themselves they were on the fence about it all and seemed to hate the position they were in, they were already seeing how horrible it all was and it tore them up to follow through with their plan. So thats probably why its easier with those three..

But when we first meet Gabi.. She was so up in your face with her dislike of her own race.. She very vocal about it when technically she was no different. She just seems so self hating and it rubs me the wrong way. We never really saw that blind eldian hatred from Annie, Bertholt and Reiner. Bertholt and Reiner i felt started self loathing not because they are eldian but because they realized the were wrong and were betraying their friends.

Also with Falco and the other candidates they were more calm about the whole thing and seemed to be just going with the flow and following orders to survive and hopefully better their family situation to not be seen in a negative light any longer.

But Gabi seemed different right from the get go she really believed her race were actual devils.. She seemed so self hating that she was willing to turn into the very thing that made her people devils and hated and ostracized in the first place.

But at the same time she came off as self righteous, due to her believing she ( even though she was also a "devil") that she was special enough to be one of the exceptions. Like i said the others weren't all in your face about it like she was...maybe that's what makes her more unlikable.

While i do know Gabi did eventually change ( thankfully) i think my general dislike came from her over the top hatred of the eldians ( her own people) and her worship of the people who oppressed her people.

I certainly agree with the fact that Gabi's hatred of the Paradis Eldians was a lot more prominent than any other warrior, so readers obviously have more opportunities to call her out on her bullshit since she displayed her anti Paradis attitude a lot more frequently than the other warriors did. I just don't like it when people hate on her for being stubborn, stupid, gullible etc, all while giving the older warriors a pass, despite the fact that Gabi actually came to doubt her beliefs far sooner than they all did.

Furthermore, I wouldn't say that Gabi worshiped the Marleyans. Everything she did, she did for the sake of the Eldians on Marley who she was made to believe were the "good" Eldians. She wasn't striving to become a warrior out of love for the Marleyan people, she was doing so in order to free her fellow Eldians from the Internment Zone. They were her motivation, not Marley.

Also the reason i mentioned the older warriors..Annie, Bertholt, and Reiner was because by the time we as readers saw who they really were.. they were already so conflicted about if they were right or not they were literally forgetting who they actually were, even when Bertholt called them devils its seems like he didn't believe it himself. Annie even cried when they had to kill Marco.

I understand in that sense, that it's easier to hate on Gabi for her views because that was your first impression of her, whereas with the other warriors, we got to know them as scouts before we knew them as the Marleyan warriors. I suppose it just grates on me a little bit because but it's still obviously unfair to throw more hate in Gabi's direction due to first impressions. All of their inner conflict came years later, Gabi's came after weeks. Yes, her hatred was a lot more pronounced which made her an easy target for reader discontent, but that's not only because her convictions were always a lot greater than their's (which is an admirable trait to have), but also because Gabi's hatred was being targeted towards characters we had grown to love, so it may also be a matter of perspective there. If we had been following Gabi and her peers since the beginning rather than the Survey Corps, I would love to see the drastic shift in her support.

It might be because we already knew these characters and they never seemed hostile or bad people then when they did reveal themselves they were on the fence about it all and seemed to hate the position they were in, they were already seeing how horrible it all was and it tore them up to follow through with their plan. So thats probably why its easier with those three..

Yeah, nothing more needs to be said really. Gabi was put in the unfortunate position of being introduced as being really passionate about the very harmful and prejudiced ideals she was brainwashed into believing, and this was at a time when the readers were all fully aware of what was going on. Therefore, it was really easy to get frustrated with her for believing what we all knew to be lies. I just don't think it's fair that Gabi gets far more hate for this than any of the older warriors, despite her coming to terms with the truth a lot sooner than they did. This is especially true when we consider just how determined and adamant about it she was as well. She displayed more tenacity towards her objectives and belief in the Marleyan brainwashing than any other warrior apart from maybe Reiner, and yet she came to terms with the truth a lot quicker than all of them other than Falco. I think she deserves plaudits for that.

But when we first meet Gabi.. She was so up in your face with her dislike of her own race.. She very vocal about it when technically she was no different. She just seems so self hating and it rubs me the wrong way. We never really saw that blind eldian hatred from Annie, Bertholt and Reiner. Bertholt and Reiner i felt started self loathing not because they are eldian but because they realized the were wrong and were betraying their friends.

I understand and agree with the point of finding it easier to criticise Gabi due to how vocal she was about her hatred for the Paradis Eldians. However, we did see that type of brainwashed infused hatred from Reiner, we just didn't have the opportunity to see it as much with him or any of the older warriors because the main story began after they had already started questioning themselves. That just links back my point regarding Gabi being put into an unfortunate position due to being introduced that way so late on.

Also with Falco and the other candidates they were more calm about the whole thing and seemed to be just going with the flow and following orders to survive and hopefully better their family situation to not be seen in a negative light any longer.

They were definitely a lot calmer, no arguments there, and that just goes back to my point regarding the strength of Gabi's convictions. She and Eren had frightening levels of drive and motivation, but many fans didn't give her the credit she was due for that, simply because her motivations were towards a goal that was in opposition to the Paradis Eldians who we had grown attached to. If we had been seeing things from her perspective since the beginning, I'm all but certain that her fierce convictions would have garnered her praise, rather than near universal hatred from the fandom.

She was wiling to cross no man's land into enemy territory by herself, with nothing but hand grenades, in order to disable the armoured train, so that the 800 Eldians in the bunker didn't have to sacrifice themselves during the war.

She was willing to sacrifice herself to board the Paradis aircraft by herself, to get some measure of revenge in honour of her home town, which had just been devastated into oblivion.

If we just detach Gabi's character from her initial hatred of the Paradis Eldians, and observe these feats of mental fortitude, it is actually quite remarkable that her sense of purpose towards the Eldians on Marley and her home, was that strong.

But Gabi seemed different right from the get go she really believed her race were actual devils.. She seemed so self hating that she was willing to turn into the very thing that made her people devils and hated and ostracized in the first place.

As far as we know, apart from Falco, they all really believed that the Paradis Eldians were devils. She was more vocal about it, but I wouldn't say that she was any different. It also didn't help that probably every time a slight hint of doubt would accidentally creep into Gabi's mind, like when Reiner unwittingly described Paradis island as having many kinds of people rather than them being all bad, and Gabi questioned this, she had her aunt right there to ensure that she kept on believing what Marley wanted them to believe.

But at the same time she came off as self righteous, due to her believing she ( even though she was also a "devil") that she was special enough to be one of the exceptions. Like i said the others weren't all in your face about it like she was...maybe that's what makes her more unlikable.

But that self righteousness that you're speaking of was a direct result of Marley's brainwashing. That wasn't something that she innately thought or naturally believed. Gabi believed that she was an exception to the Paradis Eldians because that's what she had been taught. That's why I can't really hate on her for that - because she was conditioned to think this way.

I definitely understand how frustrating it often was to listen to her spout shit about the "Eldian Devils" every other sentence, but I suppose I just found it a lot easier than most fans to separate the unnatural traits of her character that were drilled into her by the Marleyan brainwashing (like her belief that she was different from the Paradis Eldians), from the natural traits of her character that were always part of who she truly is (like her love for her home Liberio, her Eldian comrades on Marley, and her fiercely powerful convictions).

[raleighcarrera]

make way

open heart | bryce lahela x mc (casey valentine)

the prompt said: ‘bryce tells mc that he loves her while she's falling asleep and the next morning she just assumes it was a dream bc she was just so tired’

also for @choicesseptemberchallenge20 day 1 which worked out nicely (tired)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @zigtheeortega ; @omgjasminesimone ; @beccadavenport ; @pixeljazzy 💕

~2.3k words | T

she’s coming off of thirty-six hours straight at the hospital when it happens.

it’s been an exceedingly long week. balancing her work on the diagnostics team along with her regular responsibilities and managing her intern would be difficult enough without the added wrench of a bus crash thrown into her day, but, of course, that’s the way life at edenbrook goes: every day has its own new bus crash, in one way or another.

regardless, there’s new injured patients to treat and old ones to check up on and high-profile cases to worry about in the interim, so she can use her strategy to save the hospital and then rub dr. ramsey’s self-righteous nose in her success (in that order).

there’s a lot going on, and not much time to sleep. there’s brief breaks, here and there -- just enough for a quick nap in the on-call rooms -- but then it’s right back to work.

and before she knows it, it’s been thirty-six hours and bryce is forcibly dragging her onto the t in her scrubs, and she’s falling asleep with her head on his shoulder and almost definitely drooling onto his jacket.

because he’s bryce, and he’s perfect, he doesn’t say anything about that. he only runs his fingers through her hair and takes her home to his blessedly quiet, roommate-less apartment, where the pizza delivery’s been timed so perfectly that the driver is actually coming up in the elevator at the same time they are.

casey’s so grateful she could cry. instead, she waits until her mouth is half-full with her third slice to look over at her boyfriend with wide, appreciative eyes and groan, “god, you’re wonderful.”

bryce laughs at her. “please. i’m just glad i found you before you actually collapsed in ramsey’s office.”

she nods, finally chewing and swallowing the bite she’d paused to sing his praises. “i am going to sleep -- all day tomorrow.” her head is throbbing. it’s a massive effort just to remember what day it is, but there’s one thing sticking out to her, a fuzzy memory from when they’d compared schedules last weekend. “wait. you have to work?”

he sighs, dusting off his hands. “yeah.” bryce pulls a face as if to imply that it’s the single worst thing that’s ever happened to him. “sorry, babe. wish i could kick it here with you.”

“it’s okay.” a wide yawn stretches her mouth open. “you don’t mind if i stay here?”

“nah.” bryce’s smile is easygoing and a little excited. “stay as long as you want. knowing you’re here will make my day go by faster.”

maybe, she thinks deliriously, her limbs feeling even heavier now that she’s eaten than they had on their commute home, she can do something nice for him tomorrow. make dinner, or something -- after she’s slept.

casey blinks, realizing all at once that she’s completely zoned out again. “what? sorry. i’m just --”

“i know.” there’s a fondness in his voice and a softness in his eyes when he stands and pulls her to her feet, tugging her in so she can lean against him. she does so immediately, burrowing into the warmth of his chest. “come on. let’s get you to bed.”

she isn’t sure exactly how it happens, but when she yawns at him next, it’s from the lush safety of his mattress and the blankets on his bed; casey cuddles into the pillows and blinks sleepily up at him, waiting for bryce to join her. the only thing in the world that could make going to sleep now, at eight o’clock with a day off ahead of her, is having her boyfriend’s body heat beside her to soak up.

but bryce laughs at her again, shaking his head. “i gotta put the food away. i’ll be in in a minute.”

“fine,” casey mumbles. the word breaks with another yawn halfway through. her eyelids are already fluttering. “just -- hurry up.”

“of course.” she feels the brush of his lips against her forehead, and then her mouth, bryce’s kiss so gentle it’s almost not there. his fingers slip through her hair again.

the sound she makes is somewhere between a delighted groan and a sigh of pure content. she isn’t sure she’s ever been so comfortable in her life; bryce’s bed is warm and cozy and the sheets are clean -- they smell like him, and so does the shirt she’s wearing. her whole body is heavy with exhaustion and the satisfaction of the work she’s done. she feels cared for. she’s happy.

just before everything goes dark, somewhere, in the space she’s floating in between sleep and wakefulness, she hears bryce’s voice -- one last hesitant murmur of her name. it’s only on the very edge of her conscious, but she’s positive the words he says are, “i love you, casey.”

*

the apartment is predictably silent when she wakes up.

there’s nothing like the peacefulness that comes from waking up in an empty apartment. with so many roommates, it isn’t something that casey’s accustomed to, and she relishes it now, soaking up the stillness of bryce’s bedroom joyfully.

there’s birds chirping outside. she turns her face into the pillows and breathes in slowly, burrowing a little further into the sheets.

there’s nothing on the horizon, for today -- no work, no chores, no responsibilities. it’s the perfect way to start her day, if only her boyfriend was in bed beside her.

speaking of. casey reaches her hand out, fumbling blindly on the nightstand until it closes around her cellphone. she finally blinks her eyes open when she pulls the device under the sheets with her, balking at the time displayed on the home screen.

it’s past two-thirty in the afternoon.

she blinks, knuckling sleep out of her eyes. she really had been exhausted.

there’s a slew of text messages waiting for her, mostly from her roommates. the group chat is abuzz with wondering where she is and if she’s alive; casey holds off on answering them in favor of navigating to her thread with bryce, where he’s texted good morning beautiful and text me when you wake up. getting out of bed this morning was impossible with you in it

her teeth bite at her bottom lip to stifle the smile that’s threatening. eight months of being official with bryce and it still never gets old, to be on the receiving end of those cheesy, over-the-top compliments. no boyfriend of hers before him had ever sent a good morning text message.

hiiiiiiiiii she writes back, spreading out in his bed, just woke up. hope today’s going well for you. can’t wait to get you back in this bed with me

his reply is almost immediate. fuck you, it says, making her grin up at the ceiling, i’m about to go into surgery. you’re evil

casey settles for an onslaught of heart emojis, as she rolls out of said bed and heads for the kitchen. as expected, there’s no food in bryce’s fridge, but there is coffee, and she takes her time enjoying it and flipping through the channels on bryce’s tv -- they don’t have cable, at her place -- before finally making her way into the shower.

she’s in the middle of shampooing her hair when she remembers what happened last night. it comes back to her abruptly, the memory too vivid to be true. bryce’s lips, brushing against hers -- his hands pulling the comforter up to her shoulders -- and then...

i love you, casey.

she frowns, tipping her head back under the water to rinse her hair.

that has to have been a dream, right?

she’d remember it, if it were real. she’d’ve said something to him, last night, or... today. he’d’ve said something about it.

right?

casey marinates on it for the entirety of her shower, waffling back and forth. it both feels like a dream and not, making it difficult to ascertain what really happened. she was exhausted last night -- she barely remembers leaving the hospital, after all. but if bryce had really said... for the first time...

she’d have to remember that, wouldn’t she?

she thinks about it when she gets dressed and heads to the store to find something passable she can make for dinner (though it’s definitely going to be pasta, again). last night was a blur; her memory of everything that happened after bryce found her in the on-call room is in bits and pieces. there’s only the vague outline of their evening flashing in her mind: sleeping on him on the t, eating pizza shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, stumbling into his bedroom and falling into bed...

and then the same bit she can’t stop thinking about, as clear as day -- his kiss, and the soft, hesitant sound of his voice when he’d said those three words and that reverent utterance of her name.

it plays in her head on a loop in the check-out line. it has to have been a dream, that’s the only explanation for it.

he wouldn’t -- they don’t -- because he’s not...

...except that he might be.

he might be, because she’s pretty sure that she is, and -- if he felt the same way, that would be... life-changing. exceptional. pretty much the greatest thing to ever happen to her, outside of her professional accomplishments.

because bryce is pretty much the greatest thing to ever happen to her. he is everything she’s ever wanted and didn’t know she was looking for -- completely different from her usual ‘type’ in the best way. bryce is smart and thoughtful and funny and witty and devastatingly sexy -- complex and considerate and an amazing listener and a world-class shoulder massager...

someone so easy to fall in love with she hadn’t even realized it was happening until it was too late.

so her stupid, useless brain had probably imagined that he’d said it first to give her something pleasant to dream about. casey glares bitterly at the tomatoes she’s blistering when the realization washes over her.

and that’s how bryce finds her: in the kitchen, stirring spaghetti in sweats she stole out of his closet, her long hair still drying where it’s damp on her shoulders. he’s loud when he crowds in behind her at the stove, talking a mile a minute about his day, how good it smells in the apartment and how much he missed her, all at once.

he buries his face in the crook of her neck and inhales, pressing his lips lightly against the side of her throat. “you sleep okay?”

casey relaxes despite herself and her annoyance, melting a little against his chest. she nods. “yeah. thanks for taking care of me last night.”

bryce’s hands are warm when they slip under the hem of her (his) hoodie. his hands fan out over her hips. “of course,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose at the base of her neck, “anything for you, babe.”

maybe he had said it.

she thinks about it some more as she spoons pasta into two plates and they tumble back onto the couch together. the words bounce around in her brain while he slurps spaghetti beside her, interspersed with more compliments: how good dinner is, how thoughtful she is, how multi-talented she manages to be.

well, there’s only one way to find out.

casey lets him clear the plates away and load the dishwasher because she cooked, and it’s only fair, and waits until he’s back on the couch with her with that inviting space at his side wide open.

then, she slips into it, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning against him. bryce’s arm curls around her shoulders in turn, and his lips press a delicate kiss to the top of her head.

“i love you,” casey sighs. the words leave her lips so easily she’s hardly able to believe that there was once a point in time where she felt nervous to be the first to say so.

it’s true, after all. she’s not sure if she’s ever been in love, before -- she thought she had, but it wasn’t like this (nothing could ever be like this) -- but she’s positive about bryce. with her life constantly in flux, filled with so much chaos, being with bryce is the one thing she feels like she’s actually gotten right.

his hand stills from where he’d been rubbing her shoulder, hesitating for just a moment. then, he says, “i love you, too.”

casey turns her cheek to look up at him, her eyes wide. “really?”

the laugh he gives is low and fond, sending a thrill of happiness straight down her spine and to her toes. “how could i not?”

“so... you did say that last night. i thought it was a dream.” the swarm of butterflies in her stomach beat their wings harder at the very idea.

bryce makes a noncommittal hum into her hair. “i wasn’t sure if you heard me. i meant it, though. i love you, case.”

casey opens her mouth to crack a joke, but her throat feels suspiciously tight. how emotional she is catches her completely off guard, surprising her silent.

so -- she’s loved. by probably the most perfect man on the east coast, if not in the entire united states of america. or the world.

weird. part of her had thought something like this might never happen for her.

“i...” she trails off, shaking her head. it’s overwhelming, just how happy she is. her arms press bryce a little closer, pulling him to her a little tighter. “um, thank you.”

he laughs again, sounding taken aback. “for what?”

“for loving me,” casey answers, as though it should be obvious.

she can feel bryce’s shrug against her side; the movement jostles her against him, a little -- but then he squeezes her back, crushing her into the broad planes of his chest.

“it’s easy,” he promises, and though he’s the first person to ever say so, she believes him.

[thewayshedreamed]

This Time— Part 7

Fic Masterlist

As promised, here’s Part 7– complete with max Nessian. I haven’t decided if there will be one more long chapter, or if there will be one more + an epilogue, but we’re nearing the end for these two dumb dumbs 😂 I’ll warn you that there’s definitely some angst, but I hope that I make up for it.

Warnings for language.

——————————————————————————

She loosed a breath, puffing her cheeks with air and exhaling slowly. Just before she peeled her head from the headrest to get out, his front door opened. He opened it most of the way, then leaned against the door jamb on his shoulder. He had his hands in the pockets of his sweats and one of his ankles crossed casually over the other. For a moment, she only looked at him, unable to move or offer any type of acknowledgement. She took in the charcoal Henley he was wearing, unbuttoned save for the last one. The small flap of the opening leaned to the side, revealing the base of his neck and the beginning of his tattoos. He looked so very Cassian, casual and laid-back, that she struggled to keep her emotions level at the mere sight of him. His hair was down, looking like he had just run his fingers through it with its deep part and how it fell haphazardly around his face. He was wearing his reading glasses, she noticed, the thick frames highlighting the sharp angle of his cheekbones and the wide set of his jaw. He gave her a soft smile, and cocked his head to the side and back in invitation. She could almost here him tell her to “get in here”.

Too late to turn back now.

——————————————————————————

She got out of the car and travelled up the short walkway to his door. He moved to stand to the side, ushering her into the entryway without a word. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it. His voice was soft when he spoke.

“I saw you from the window when you pulled up. Hope I didn’t rush you.”

“Hmm. No. I wasn’t 100% sure I was going to knock anyway, so it’s probably best that you went out.” He tensed at her words. She offered a small smile, feeling oddly compelled to comfort him.

The whole reason you’re here is because you’re mad, Nesta. Focus.

”Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Whiskey?” He huffed a small laugh at his last suggestion.

”Tea would be great, actually. I’ll come sit at the island,” she replied.

He walked past her, hands still firmly in his pockets. She followed him to the kitchen, situated herself on a barstool, and watched him prepare the things he needed. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, until the tension became a little too much.

“Have you decided if you’re going to tell me why you’re here?” His eyes were focused on what he was doing; never looking up at her as he spoke.

“Yeah. I think we have some things to talk about.” She watched his shoulders raise slightly before he put the kettle on the stove and turned around.

“Like?” He leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms across his chest.

”Us. Whatever we are, anymore. And boundaries.” She couldn’t look at him, so she opted to look down at her hands as she picked her cuticles.

He was quiet for a moment, and when she finally looked at him, the look on his face gave her pause. His expression was severe, his jaw tense and eyes narrowed.

“I think you made it perfectly clear what we are not, Nesta. If you came here to twist the knife, I’d like to opt out of this conversation.” He turned his back to her, busying himself by looking for the right mugs to pull from the cabinet.

“That’s not why I came!” she snapped. She lowered her face into her hands, willing herself to take deep breaths and stay calm. “I just... I know what we’re not. I do. But it’s hard to reconcile with how you act sometimes.”

”Which is?” His voice was strained, his patience waning.

“Like nothing has changed. Elain’s birthday— by the bathroom. The parking lot. Texting me today, and on top of th—“ He cut her off, much to her frustration, but she restrained her temper. This conversation was delicate enough, but she couldn’t keep from narrowing her gaze in his direction.

”I didn’t want this. You did,” he sneered. “Have you considered that it’ll take time for me to figure this shit out?” He pulled his chosen mugs out roughly, held them to his chest, and used his other hand to shut the cabinet door firmly. His voice was rough and slightly raised. Since it seemed he was determined to escalate anyway, she decided to jump ahead.

“So how is Alis then? Does she know how much time you need to ‘figure shit out’ with me?” she taunted coldly.

Apparently, the timing of her question couldn’t have been worse. Cassian’s entire body went taut as he was shifting the mugs to set them both down on the counter. He put them down with such force that it startled her, even though she was staring directly at him.

“What the fuck does it matter to you, Nesta? Huh?!” The mug in his right hand had broken on impact, but he didn’t seem to noticed as he whirled around. “She has nothing to do with our little shit show, so leave her the fuck out of it,“ he spat. His infamous temper was flaring now, and she knew he wouldn’t be backing down. He turned to see the broken mug, muttering a low “Fuck” and proceeded to sweep the broken pieces into his hands to throw away.

She blinked a couple of times, caught off guard by him immediately jumping to Alis’ defense. It’s not that she didn’t expect any loyalty at all, but the pain that followed is what threw her.

“Clearly, talking to you was a bad idea. I was hoping we could have an adult conversation!” she yelled.

He lowered his voice a fraction, but the venom in his tone remained. “Let me ask you something. How many godsdamned times do I have to take your bullshit on the chin before my reactions are justified? Why do you get to cling to your anger, make me the bad guy, and keep coming back for more? Your hands aren’t as clean as you’d like to think, sweetheart. Don’t fucking do this with me.”

She stood at that, grabbed her keys, and walked toward the door. She heard him laugh sarcastically from where he stood, and she was fully prepared to ignore him until he opened his mouth.

“There she is, walking away again. At least your predictability is comforting.”

She stilled, her entire body tensing. She turned around so quickly, launching herself toward him before she ever gave herself a chance to think better of it.

“You arrogant, self-righteous, son of a bitch!” She was pushing at his chest, and the fact that he barely moved at all had her seeing red. She started slapping at his chest between pushes and even went as far as to brace her hands on his chest, lunge, and use all of her force to move him backward. Her feet only slid back on the floor, while he lost no ground. “You giant, pretentious, pain in the—“

He gripped her wrists against his chest, transferred them to one hand, and used his other hand to cup her jaw. His grip was surprisingly gentle compared to the anger that flared in his eyes. She blew a breath through her bottom lip to get the stray hair out of her face and glared right back at him.

“Enough of all that.” He paused, studying her face before he continued. “Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?” His voice was low, and although she knew he was being quite literal, she couldn’t fight the warmth that pooled within her at his words.

She swallowed heavily and closed her eyes before saying, “I have an idea.”

He squeezed her wrists gently then, almost as if he was considering if it was safe to let them go. She opened her eyes at that and was surprised to find that she had leaned into him while her eyes were closed. Their noses were almost brushing, and as much as she longed to close the distance between them, she remembered her reasons for being here. She fixed her gaze on his eyes, remarking how much more prominent the gold flecks became when he was mad. When he met her stare, they softened slightly before flicking down to her mouth. He didn’t try to conceal it and instead opted to pull his hand back just enough to run his thumb over her bottom lip. He repeated the action across her Cupid’s bow before moving to cup her cheek.

The kettle’s whistle caused both of them to jump back slightly, disoriented by the fact that the world had indeed continued during those moments. He dropped her wrists from his chest, and a pained expression passed across her features.

“You’re the one that asked for tea, sweetheart,” he said, as he lowered his hand and smirked at her. “Plus, we have some talking to do, remember?” He touched her palm with his index finger to prompt her to follow him back into the kitchen. She followed and sat back in her previous spot at the island, as he passed the mug to her. He decided against getting another mug out for himself and leaned his hip on the corner of the island.

Nesta didn’t even know where to start. There were so many ways she could approach this, all leading to the same point, but she felt like that point needed context. Nothing about the time passed seemed linear to her, and she was struggling with how to best present herself. She stared down into her mug, bobbing her tea bag through the water to busy her hands.

“So, what is all this about Alis? How do you know about her?” he asked, tone matter of fact. She wasn’t sure if he’d opted to speak first out of impatience or if he was bailing her out as usual, but either way, she was grateful for a starting point.

A crease formed between her brows as she placed her tea bag on a napkin, her eyes never leaving the mug as she spoke. “The night of Elain’s birthday, at Rita’s. I sent you a text, and somehow you pocket dialed me a little while later. I heard your conversation. Maybe I should have hung the phone up sooner, because it obviously wasn’t intended for me, but it all happened really fast. I heard you making plans to meet up later that week, and then I hung up.”

”Ah. I see.”

”Not that it should matter how I know. The fact remains that you seemed awfully interested in talking to me that night, and not even a couple hours later, asking her out. It’s insulting. To both of us.”

He smirked at that, and she had to resist the urge to throttle him for it. “Is that jealousy, Nes? It’s not becoming.” Her eyes snapped up to his at his comment; boldly throwing her own words at her from that night at Rita’s. Just like that, she was seeing red all over again.

“You’re such a bastard, Cassian. Even if it was, it doesn’t change the point. You can’t date her and send sentimental texts to me on my mother’s death anniversary, it’s not fair! How do you think that makes me feel?!” She felt tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, and she quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He leaned forward onto his forearms, meeting her at eye level. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I won’t pretend I’m an expert at reading your emotions because I’ve been very wrong before. How do you feel?”

”It really doesn’t matter. It was never right for me to come here and try to force a conversation with someone else’s... whatever you two are. It’s inappropriate.” Just like that, her mind was changed. She didn’t have it in her to do this, and she wanted to hold it together long enough to leave with a little dignity. Her tears betrayed her by streaming down her face, and she whisked them away quickly with her hands.

He grasped one of her hands with both of his, wiping the tears from it and holding it between his palms. His fingers skimmed over her wrist, and she couldn’t help but look at him. He looked pained, an earnesty in his eyes that she couldn’t ignore.

“Nesta, I’m not dating Alis. I’m not dating anyone, for that matter. Alis is a friend of mine who helps me out from time to time. She’s a florist at Spring Floral Cart, and we’ve worked together over the years for different things.”

It took her a moment to process his words before realization dawned on her. A florist. She was a florist, and he had flowers sent to her mother’s grave. Then what had she overheard? Thinking back on it, they never mentioned dinner, drinks, anything. Had she invented this whole thing?

“She did my mother’s flowers.” Not a question.

His eyes widened at her words. “How do you know about Christine’s flowers?” His voice was so quiet that it was almost a whisper.

“Rhys. He mentioned it at dinner—“

”Fuck, Rhys.” He dropped his head forward in frustration.

”Let me finish. He wasn’t trying to out you specifically, he just assumed at least one of us knew. Once he realized we didn’t, he couldn’t exactly lie or pretend he didn’t know either. It was obvious that he did.” She paused, but once she realized he wasn’t going to respond, she used her free hand to raise his face back up to look at her. “Why wouldn’t you tell me that? Why hide it? I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you would do that for her.” Her voice was just as quiet now, the air thick with emotion all around them.

Here she was, doing another 180 and deciding she needed to stay. She was getting whiplash from the extremes she was experiencing, all rapid fire. She stood, taking her hand from him, and circled the island to stand next to him. She pulled his bicep to encourage him to stand to his full height and look at her. He stood, but he kept his eyes locked on the countertop as he answered her.

“I never wanted it to seem like I had certain motives. I don’t know. I did it for her; not any recognition, not for praise. I knew how much she loved having fresh flowers around the house, and I didn’t want her to never have them again.” He was playing with the corner of her napkin, and she grasped his hand as he had done with hers just minutes ago. She had tears in her eyes yet again, but she did nothing to keep them hidden now. It seemed so stupid and pointless. “I think I knew deep down how I felt about you, and I never wanted you to think I was trying to win your favor in some cheap way; like I was using your mom as a way to get you to fall for me. It makes me sick to even say that out loud. I felt like if you knew, you would question my motives once you learned how I felt. And I think to some degree, I was scared I would discount your feelings for me even if they were returned... like they were just the product of some grand gesture during a rough time. Chalk it up to my daddy issues, I guess.” He chuckled softly before lifting his eyes to hers. He noted her tears, and his brows immediately came together in concern.

“Hey, hey, hey. No need for tears, Archie. I’m okay. We’re okay.” He held her face in his hands, brushing her tears away with his thumbs. She crumpled into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his sternum. He brought his arms around her and rested his hands on her lower back. She was quiet for several minutes before she mastered herself enough to speak.

”Gods, you couldn’t be more wrong, Cass.”

She leaned back to look at him. He cocked his head in confusion, willing her to continue. “I’m not okay. We’re not okay. Not like this. But knowing this doesn’t discount anything I feel for you. It doesn’t make me question your intentions. You forget that I know your heart and your character, and I know this is just who you are. And I was in love with you before I knew any of this, anyway. I was in love with you weeks ago when I was too scared to admit it to myself.”

She gripped his shirt at his shoulders as she forced herself to voice all these terrifying things she’d felt. After all they had been through together, he deserved to hear all of it from her. She needed him to know he was loved, even if she’d exhausted his good favor. She needed him to know he hadn’t misread her; that he hadn’t thrown his love into some void all these years.

“I loved you before she passed; loved you years before, even. I’ve loved you as far back as I can remember.”

Cassian closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as she spoke. He removed his glasses as he lowered his brow to hers and brought one of his hands up to cup the side of her neck. His thumb rubbed her jawbone gently.

”Nesta, I—“

”Wait. If I don’t finish, I’ll lose my nerve. Shit, I’m so terrible at this.” She huffed a small laugh, and he joined her, still with his eyes closed. “I think I was so afraid to need you. Because before, I always dated someone who ‘completed’ me in some way or ‘balanced me out.’ And when that wasn’t true anymore, everything fell to shit.” She paused for a few seconds to catch her breath. He waited patiently, rubbing soothing circles on her lower back with his thumbs.

“Something I realized over the last couple of weeks, is that I don’t need you. It’s never been that— wait. That came out wrong,” she said, shaking her head slightly but never breaking contact with his. She expected him to pull away from her or to see his anger flare once more.

She wasn’t expecting the small laugh that bubbled out of him, his eyes fluttering open to look at her. “Wow. You really are bad at this.” She swatted him playfully on the chest before she continued.

“What I mean is... it’s not like I’ve kept close to you because you served a specific purpose or kept me comfortable by never pushing me to grow. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always been supportive, but...” She trailed off, trying to find the right words. “It’s just different with you, because no matter what phase of life I’ve been in, I’ve wanted you there. And as someone who struggles to see past her own nose sometimes, wanting all of you means so much more than merely needing a certain something from you, whatever that may be.” She felt tears roll down her face again and fought to keep her voice steady enough to finish. “It means that I love you, and it’s not seasonal. It’s not contingent on this phase of life. I love you, and I want you. I want you with me so much that I haven’t been able to think about much else.” She took a deep breath, terrified of how he would respond. His breathing was a little labored, and she could feel the tension radiating off of him.

“You love me,” he rasped. All she could do was nod. He moved his hands to each of her cheeks, cradling her face as he spoke.

“And you want me.” She nodded again. She couldn’t decipher much of anything from his tone, and that scared the shit out of her considering he was usually the open book. She realized the magnitude of how he had bared himself to her all those weeks ago, only to be met with her rejection. The pain he must have felt after being so raw and open.

”I understand if you don’t have it in you to give that to me anymore. The gods know that I’ve hardly given you a reason to. I just need you to know, but I’ll unders—“

”Shut up, Nesta,” he said, through a grin, before his lips crashed into hers.

The kiss was firm and passionate, yet with a gentleness she hadn’t experienced between them before. He angled his head to slant his mouth over hers, running his tongue over the tight seam of her lips in permission. She gasped quietly as she opened up for him, sliding her hand to the nape of his neck. She wove her fingers into his long hair, as if anything less may let him slip away from her. He let out a low growl once her fingers ran over the base of his scalp and nipped gently at her bottom lip. She whimpered at that, causing him to pull back a little to look at her. Her heart clenched at the adoration she saw in his face, and she moved her other hand from its place on his chest. She looped it under his arm, around his ribs, and grasped his shoulder blade. She wanted him closer, using him to ground her in the moment.

He moved one of his hands to grip her around the waist, his long arm resting across her back. He used the thumb of his other hand to lightly stroke her cheekbone.

“I wouldn’t have it in me to keep away from you,” he murmured. He bent his knees slightly so that he could lift her around the waist and gripped her thigh with his other hand, sliding her up onto the kitchen island. He brushed his nose softly against hers, gripping her hips as he spoke, “I love you.”

She ran her hands over his forearms, up his biceps, and rested them atop each of his strong shoulders. She felt shy all a sudden, a soft smile gracing her lips as her eyes flicked up to his. His gaze darkened when she looked at him, and she mustered as much bravado as she could to ask, “And do you want me?”

He pulled her hips forward at her question, bringing her to the edge of the countertop and as close to him as possible. “Always. In every way,” he purred, bringing his mouth to the soft skin beneath her jaw.

She tilted her head to the side to allow him better access. Her eyes fluttered shut as she whispered, “Show me.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: I couldn’t help but include a LITTLE more angst in their reunion— it’s just that Nessian is prime angst real estate 😂 As I said at the beginning of this post, I’m not sure how many more chapters (1 or 1 + epilogue), but I can tell you that I’ve already started writing the next chapter’s smut. 😳 Stay tuned for that!

Your comments/ feedback are always welcome. It makes my day to read through all of your reactions and commentary! If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, shoot me an ask, comment, or reblog. The same applies if your tag isn’t working for some reason. I’ll be happy to look into fixing it!

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[sobdasha]

I can’t wait for the day

when Momiji is revisiting The Most Foolish Traveler, the story that has always best embodied his life ideology, and just flips a table while yelling “this is bullshit!” in German.

(it’s probably about the same time that he and Momo decide to sue their parents for custody of each other)

He spends all of one evening on this (because he is really fired up and manages to get it out all in one go without any editing), commissions Rin for illustrations, and then mails off a copy to Tohru and Kyou in a fit of righteous anger.

It’s called The Most Idiotic Traveler in the World (with Corrected Ending) or something like that and the story diverges when the naked traveler is wandering through the woods. This time, early in her journey in the forest, the traveler meets a new monster not in the original story.

The monster tells the traveler that he’s been watching her since she first entered the woods. And, the monster tells her, she really is an idiot.

The traveler is confused and, to tell the truth, a bit hurt by that. It’s a different hurt than walking through the forest barefoot, with no clothes to protect her from scratches, and hobbling on a crutch of a fallen branch because she gave away one of her legs to a demon she met earlier.

“Look,” the monster says, “I’m not saying it’s not good to be grateful. Spending your life being worried about everything you could lose is a rotten way to live. But it’s okay to ask for something in return, you know. What are you going to do, keep giving away parts of your body to the demons in the forest? I know you just want to be kind, but how are you going to keep helping people if there’s nothing left of you but a head?”

(“Does that monster look kind of...familiar, to you?” Tohru asks Kyou.)

Oh, the traveler thinks. That’s what kind of hurt it is. Like the hurt of wanting to keep traveling through towns, wanting to keep being helpful, wanting to keep offering freely to the people around her. But being told instead that she’s not wanted because she’s naked, and shouldn’t she be ashamed and go where no one will see her.

(About a week ago Momiji called the house and asked, “Heeeeey Kyou, what’d your true form look like?” Kyou contemplated that for a little while, and then simply hung up on him. Rin then suggested they ask Shigure instead, as Shigure’s a bastard who knows everyone’s business.)

The traveler doesn’t know what to say to the monster. What if people think she’s greedy when she asks for a trade? What if people think that means she isn’t interested in helping really? And it’s scary to think about asking and then being told no.

(“Kyou, do you think it’s supposed to be a...a cat monster?”)

But somehow, the monster knows what she’s thinking, because he says that he didn’t mean to make her feel bad. He says, he just thought she should think about what would make her happy. He wanted her to hear that it was okay, to think like that. She can still be generous and grateful without having to lie to herself that she’s happy giving until there’s nothing left and never receiving anything new to give.

(Okay, I know I’m stupidly in love with Tohru and the whole family thinks it’s hilarious, Kyou thinks, but does Momiji seriously have to keep giving me shit about it all the time?)

“Oh,” says the traveler, starting to cry. “That’s actually very kind of you. No one has ever given me a gift like that before. I want to give you something in return for your kindness. Would you—would you like to have my arm?”

“No! I just—maybe you could let me travel with you. For a little bit. It’s kinda lonely in these woods.”

The monster is startled to find the traveler crying even harder now. I’m so sorry, the traveler tells him. It’s not that she’s upset or that she doesn’t want to travel with him—it’s just that that’s what she’s secretly always hoped for. Traveling, and meeting new people, and seeing new towns and forests, are all very lovely. But leaving people and places so soon after she’s met them is so very lonely. She’s given and given away everything she has, and she doesn’t begrudge it at all, but the only thing she would have wanted in return was for someone to travel with her for a while and keep her company.

“I can never repay your generosity!” the traveler wails.

“Hey now,” says the monster, “I thought this was a gift you were giving to me.”

Though you really shouldn’t give up any more of your body parts if you want to keep traveling and helping people, the monster scolds her. But, he says, if the time comes when she really must give up her other leg to help someone...he’ll be there to carry her, so they can keep traveling, together.

And the traveler and the monster did continue to journey together for a long time, and they lived very happily and generously but with reasonable boundaries for their well being and had so many beautiful monster babies and grandbabies THE END.

(“This is the most beautiful story I’ve ever read,” Tohru sobs into Kyou. Kyou decides he’ll forgive Momiji after all for rewriting that weird story, now blatantly starring him and Tohru and wtf even prompted that brat to do this anyway.)

The moral that Momiji took from the original story, that you should just be a beautiful person and not worry about loss and be kind, and it’s okay to die telling yourself you’re happy when all you’ve been is abused, is a garbage moral. (He also took away that he wanted to make kind people like that happy. But he accurately sees himself and Tohru as being very similar people, and he has told himself he’s okay with being walked over the same way Tohru does.) Being grateful for what you have does have its merits, but. You can be kind and have boundaries. You can be generous and not force yourself to smile and be grateful when people use you.

Momiji has no regrets about trying to empathize with his parents and keeping his distance for his mother’s mental health and his father’s happiness. But I expect there’s a point where he realizes it was awful of his dad to frame Momiji getting literally disowned as a “gift” Momiji gave her when actually Momiji didn’t have a choice to say that he didn’t want to be forgotten. I expect he builds up a lot of righteous indignation about being kept away from Momo, especially as Momo gets older and clearly wants a relationship because she’s actively seeking it out. After all, by the time his curse breaks, he’s self-aware enough to articulate that no one else can dictate for him “you should be grateful for X” or “you’ll never be happy if you do Y.” He’s made peace with the things he can’t have but he has realistic expectations for potentially getting other things in the future. Momiji refuses to accept that he’ll get nothing in return for his kindness.

(I’m also thinking about how very cold they play Momiji at the hospital with Akito in the anime, and how Momiji doesn’t warm up and offer Akito comfort via The Most Foolish Traveler until it’s clear that Akito isn’t thinking “isn’t it great how I played all these suckers” but could instead be receptive to the idea of “I want to give something kind to these dumbasses in return even though they won’t ask me for it” if nudged in the right direction.)

Momiji said his initially reaction to The Most Idiotic Traveler in the World was to want for the traveler to be happy for real, which says that Momiji is aware that the traveler was not actually happy, dying alone in the forest crying about how happy and grateful she was. And he is Right and He Should Say It and also rewrite the story with a correct ending.

[diavolodigitale]

L’appel Du Vide: 00 Despicable Him

It took me a whole goddamn year to finally win the fight I fought against myself and start posting this story. I have 7 complete chapters written already but now cannot seem to find the strength to continue, so I was hoping releasing it into the world would give me a nice boost. Anyway, my friends enjoyed the story so if in reality it turns out to be bad, it’s obviously their fault, not mine ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Rhys is the CEO of Atlas and Jack's AI is back, surprise, surprise! Now Rhys is dismayed, Jack doesn't care much, and the events of Borderlands 3 are just beginning to unravel. Is there any way to fix the plot of this game? Would it be any better if Rhys had to cooperate with Jack this whole time? Well, this is your chance to find out!

Spoiler: yes, dammit, it would. Everything's better with a bit of Handsome Jack in it.

Genres: Fix-It, Developing Relationship, Alternate Canon, POV Third Person, Humor, Drama, Plot-driven (kind of? well, it has plot)

Pairing: Handsome Jack’s AI/Rhys (this is only the 1st chapter so don’t expect much yet)

Characters: Handsome Jack’s AI, Rhys

Rating: M for Mature but not in this chapter lol

Size: around 2500 words (chapter 1/11)

Rhys’s office was great. He liked to sit in his big executive’s chair and dreamily look outside instead of doing the paper work. The view was also great. Well, kind of.

What did not seem so great, however, was the war he had been recently dragged into by the Maliwan corporation. He didn’t like being involuntarily involved into global affairs, especially those that had something to do with fusions or takeovers. The situation his company was in was bothering him at the moment, so he took a deep thoughtful breath and continued staring into the window.

“Hey, kiddo,” said the voice of somebody who definitely could not be in Rhys’s office neither at this given moment nor at any other time. Rhys was almost sure in his sanity so he proceeded to ignore the not-uttered words, although he, for some unknown reason, became visibly shaken.

“He-e-ey,” said the voice with those familiar little notes of annoyance that would let the hearer know that the person speaking clearly didn’t like being ignored.

A half-transparent blue hand waved in front of Rhys’s face, and he totally lost it.

Still somehow managing to remain seated in his chair, Rhys jerked back and rolled right through the blue figure formerly standing behind him.

“Wha…” muttered Rhys, barely able to speak at all, “Jack? What are you… I mean, how… I mean, is that really you?”

“Calm down, Rhysie,” said Jack with the same smug expression on his face – perhaps, the only thing that was unchangeable apart from his self-confidence, principles, self-esteem, disrespect for the others, sly nature, and, well, many, many other things really. “I get it, you’re happy to see me, but gosh, have some self-respect!”

Rhys was still confused, so after a few seconds of silence Jack felt the need to add, “Of course, it’s me”.

“But I thought you’re…”

“Dead? Gone? Dead and gone?” Jack clicked his tongue three times. “I thought, you knew me better, Rhysie. I thought, you’d welcome me with your arms wide open. Are you not happy to see me?”

“I am,” Rhys started nodding zealously and clenched his fists tight, hoping that Jack wouldn’t notice he was shaken. “But I don’t understand. What happened…”

“What happened was a mistake. I was gone for a while, but now I’m here to stay.” Jack leaned towards Rhys’s face and smiled. It was in no way an amiable smile. His glowing eyes reminded those of a vulture watching his prey. He already started to smell fear in the air.

“And where exactly is here?” asked Rhys with the last glimmer of hope fading from his voice. More than anything now he wished for the story not to repeat itself, but it was not like he had a choice or something.

Jack only tapped on Rhys’s temple with his index finger and leaned back. Rhys didn’t feel the touch but the gesture itself made him uncomfortable. He knew what it meant, unfortunately.

Jack jumped onto the table of the CEO of Atlas and crossed his legs and arms, waiting.

Rhys swallowed loudly. This was not great at all. He was sure his head was clear from this phantom and there was nothing to worry about. He was sure he would never again be convinced to go against his nature and pursue the world domination. Or any kind of domination. He was sure, but whenever it came to Jack, he was a defeatist.

“This can’t be true. I don’t believe you came back. I must’ve hit my head or I’m just seeing things…” Rhys’s voice quavered in disbelief when he spoke.

“Now-now, honey, no need to worry so much. You know I don’t like it when you wince, it makes you look older. Seeing me here must make you feel sorry for what you’ve done, but you should know that I don’t hold any grudge. Actually, I’m kida proud of you, you know. It only proves I was right all along,” said Jack roguishly. His manner of speech made his words sound benign, as if he was forgiving sins during the confession. Rhys was still not buying it.

“I did what I had to, what you made me do! If anything, it was YOUR fault, YOU betrayed me, so don’t you try making ME responsible for everything! I don’t know what kind of mind game this is, but I know you can’t be here.”

As Jack opened his mouth to yet again say something pricky, Rhys, still sitting in his chair and tightly gripping its arms, yelled at top of his lungs, “Begone! Begone, foul apparition!”.

The apparition sat on the table, sandbagged and with a dropped jaw, for a few moments and then uttered “Wow. Just wow. I’ve always known you’re weird, but this is just… wow. Are you on drugs or something? I’m not judging, you just seem really… deranged? I wanna say deranged, but I’m not sure it’s the right word.”

Rhys snuffled resentfully and looked at Jack with a brooding expression on his face. “You won’t go?” he asked, not really hoping anymore.

“Nope, kiddo. Everything’s gonna be just like the good old times – me as a hero and you as a… as a… I dunno, a less attractive sidekick?” Rhys quietly sighed, holding his head in his hands. “We’re gonna hang out, kill bandits, save the world, and I will always, always be at your side. I’ll make sure of that.”

“I killed you, Jack. I destroyed you. I ripped you out of my body, tore you apart and threw you away from my memory. Nothing’s gonna be the same anymore, you know that.”

“No, Rhys, I was killed by some OTHER goddamn crappy bags of… ugh, I’m not even gonna bother with that. You and me just had a misunderstanding. Often happens between two forceful promising personalities, like between me and the previous Hyperion CEO. Oh, wait, no,”–Jack scratched his head and furrowed his eyebrows–“no, I killed him, that’s a bad example. Anyway, you know what I mean.”

“I smashed my fucking arm to get rid of you! You,”–Rhys pointed his cybernetic finger at Jack–“are the only one who is insane here if you think that’s nothing. We both know what we did, Jack. Whatever you want, I’m not helping you. The last time I tried, you took control of me and tried to end my life.”

Jack’s expression turned from stolid to menacing as fast as gray clouds cover the sun and it starts raining in summer. He wanted to be good, he really believed that he did.

“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” he hissed at Rhys. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me to. No matter how much I don’t want to admit it, I’m dependent on you, you little whiny coward, so do me a favor – be a good boy and listen to what daddy has to say. You kept your eye implant, didn’t you? Don’t even try arguing with me, I know you did. It was your decision to leave it be, so it’s you who brought me here. I’m grateful for that and I promise not to be nasty. No taking over bodies and no homicidal tendencies. Well, at least when it comes to you, pumpkin.”

“…Okay,” fumbled Rhys. Even though he didn’t believe this was really the case, he knew disputing with Jack never solved anything anyway. “Although… I didn’t really use the chip afterwards. I don’t know how you’ve found out I had kept it, but I surely wasn’t that stupid so as to put it back into my head after what you had done. I really want to know how you’ve managed to–”

“We all have our secrets, Rhysie. But enough about me, let’s talk about you.” Jack gave Rhys a wink. “How’ve ya been? Must admit, I fell out of the loop and now need an update,” he said petulantly. Now he was idly looking around as if he had lost all interest in what was happening.

Rhys decided to let go of his worries for now. If he couldn’t make Jack talk, his only option was to gain his trust once again and find out how he survived. Or if he did at all. Just be composed, not the worst scenario you’ve ever been in, he said to himself.

“Um, actually, I’m great. This is my office and… We’re doing fantastically if you disregard the fact that we’re at war with Maliwan and currently I am occupied with this new–”

“Yeah-yeah, okay, what was there about a war? I don’t remember Maliwan scum being at least somehow dangerous. How did you even manage to mess this up?”

Rhys stood up from his huge chair, arms akimbo, eyes disdainfully narrowed, and went on with his story, affronted and even a little peevish.

“As I was saying, I’m working on a new plan right now. At this point I’m pretty fed up with Katagawa, this new CEO of Maliwan,”–definitely peevish right now–“Oh, in fact, I just hate him so much!”–now even irate–“The day he murdered all his siblings, he just mobilized his fleet and went straight to my planet! Who in the right mind does that? Could’ve sent a message at least. Anyway,”–Rhys hid his hands into his pockets and sunk back into his chair, having lost all his righteous anger–“he wants our corporations to merge, to fuse, as he says, to become one.” The irritation on Jack’s face was becoming more distinct with every word Rhys said. “He wants me to sign the deal and share my developments with him, can you believe it? That greedy bastard!”

“Proposals like that don’t just come out of nowhere. Seems like he’s been watching you. This Katagawa guy, what does he offer you in return? Money, contacts, tech?”

“Himself, I guess,” said Rhys without any second thought.

“What?” asked Jack contemptuously. He was already close to seeing red. Rhys forgot how it worked with him.

“He said we would become partners, but I think it’s all lies to make it seem pretty. I suspect he will simply take control of Atlas and our new shiny guns, and all my work will be wasted.”

“I see, no one can trick our Rhysie,” said Jack, grinning. “Thank god, at least some good news.”

“That’s right!” said Rhys, perhaps, more enthusiastically than he should have. “No one,” he added more quietly. Except for you, you snake, muttered the inner voice inside his head.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something this whole time. Funny how I really haven’t been here for long, but you know. May I?”

Jack’s incisive manner of speech was absent, so Rhys took his guard down for a moment, getting the feeling that this conversation was like one of those they used to have before – unbraced and at times even innocuous.  

“I know what’s on your mind, Jack,” he said, heartfelt and certain.

“You do?” Jack undoubtfully seemed surprised at his interlocutor’s insight.

“Yes. I’ve noticed how you look at me and I know exactly what you want to ask.” Rhys made himself more comfortable in the chair, crossed his legs and sat straight, in a more business-like manner. “This,”–he made a vague hand gesture around the area of his mouth–“is a siege mustache. Shh, let me finish, you can’t say anything I haven’t heard about it before. My troops love it, and as a good commander, I do what I can to boost morale on the battlefield. Of course, I don’t go out there, but they are happy enough when they see my hologram. A-a-and, now you can talk. I guess. If you want to. By the way, I don’t care if you hate it, it’s my face so–”

“You know what? I love it. Love it. Never thought I would say that, but I am saying it right now, so here you are. The second rule of a successful boss – do what the fuck you wanna do with your face. The first one is murder the previous boss, of course.”

“Really?” gingerly asked Rhys, who, in reality, had never heard anything good about his poor moustache.

“Really. But I must upset you, Rhysie. This is not what was bothering me. You see, there’s this other little thing, pretty close in its significance to your moustache.”

“Oh,” uttered Rhys nonchalantly, “what is it?”

“Hyperion. What’s with it? What’s with MY Hyperion, Rhysie?”

At the sound of that very word Rhys hunched in his chair and felt as if he was reducing in size under Jack’s cold gaze.

“After what had happened… the Helios was destroyed and everything collapsed and…”

Rhys sat silent, not able to go on, and this was the last thing he should’ve done. Jack was not in the mood for such a behavior.

“Look me square in my fucking translucent eyes, Rhys, and tell me – what is with my Hyperion?” yelled Jack.

He still sat on the table quite far from Rhys, but it seemed like the room suddenly shrunk and he was right in front of him. Jack was a ghost, a phantom, not able to do anything, not able to inflict any damage or even touch him, but Rhys sensed the danger. No matter in what form, Handsome Jack was still Handsome Jack.

“I don’t know. I guess, somebody took control of it after I left. The weapons are still being manufactured, but I didn’t bother to find out who was the next in line after Helios was… after I destroyed Helios.”

Rhys exhaled loudly and averted his eyes from Jack. Oh, yes, making Jack angry is much easier than making him proud, how could I forget, he thought.

“I see. I didn’t doubt for a second you would do that to infuriate me. Believe it or not, this is the first time I’d rather be disappointed. But you know what? It doesn’t matter now. Now we’re bonding,” Jack sucked the air through his teeth, “now we’re rebuilding what was destroyed like a family we are. Isn’t that great? Look at us, two best buddies exchanging the latest news.”

“And you promised not to be nasty this time...?” Rhys made a feeble attempt to save himself and remind Jack about the terms under which he was allowed to accompany him.

“Yes, Rhysie, and you know damn well I keep my promises.”

And he did. But only when he promised to kill somebody.

[kookiepredictions]

Jungkook’s Real Personality: Prediction

The main thing to remember about Jungkook’s personality is the word Balance. This means 2 things: 1, he has a very complex mix of many different types of personality traits so it is difficult to categorize him as one fixed personality type because he switches and changes a lot according to the situation he is in. 2nd, he needs to constantly work on maintaining balance between all these different traits, many of which are contradictory in nature. Think of him as a juggler juggling many different objects. It means he is capable of juggling so many things at once but it also means that he has to be always careful to keep them balanced otherwise he will face problems.

How is he different from his on screen persona? 1st, he is a lot more mature and intelligent than he is shown. Remember he has a Virgo sun which naturally makes him very calm and responsible, even without trying. He is a very responsible person. If he’s given a task, he will see to its completion to the point that if he can’t do it for some reason, he will think he is useless. It’s very important for him to feel useful, especially for those who he cares about. Also his Leo moon gives him a protective nature which doubles his desire of being there for his loved ones. He is the type of friend, partner, family who will never leave you alone in trouble, he will always be there for you, even if sometimes he doesn’t need to. But there is 1 condition here. He does not like to be manipulated. He hates manipulative behaviour and this grows bigger as he grows older. Jungkook usually is the type of person who speaks less and speaks last. He will always listen more. He will observe more. If you try to manipulate him, he won’t speak out immediately. He will silently watch you first, be completely sure that you are manipulating him without any instigation on his part, and are showing no signs of changing, then he will walk away from you without even looking back, even if you are so much as dying. In fact he can take this anger so far that he would wish for your harm and be happy at your misery. However, he will never actually do anything to harm anyone, even those who hurt him. His anger comes from a place where he deeply feels it is wrong to break someone’s trust so he would wish for your harm so that you can learn your lesson and never break someone’s trust again. I also feel this part of his personality is changing as he matures. In the near future, he will become more vocal right from the start as soon as he sees someone treating him wrong, and quickly decide to break ties instead of staying silent and seething inside. Once he parts ways, he will also let it go quickly and forgive the person, wish them good luck and move on with his life.

This brings me to the point that he has a short temper. It’s not so much that he is quick to anger, it’s more like he tends to hold grudges for a long time. Most of the time, his anger doesn’t even play out as loud outbursts. He is more likely to express his anger by completely shutting you out. He would refuse to even tell you why he is angry but also want you to coax him repeatedly to share his thoughts. Sometimes he could break this pattern and immediately express his anger even at an inappropriate time, but this happens less frequently. The reason of his anger stems from his perfectionism. We all know Jungkook is a perfectionist. And he expects the same level of perfectionism and dedication from everyone around him. His anger is more of an impatience. I won’t be surprised if he mentally says things like, Why are people so slow and clumsy? Why can’t people see the obvious? Why are people so stupid? Like 100 times a day lol typical Virgo male. So Jungkook really mostly gets angry out of impatience. He is a very sincere and dedicated person and gives his 200% in everything so when someone can’t keep up with him, he gets very impatient. 

There is also another thing about his anger. Very rarely will he get angry at your first mistake. For example, if you meet him for the first time and say spill a drink on his shirt, he might get a tad annoyed but he will smile let it go. He will even forgive your 2nd, 3rd, 4th mistakes. The point where he gets angry is the point where you have made several mistakes. So when he gets angry you will tend to feel he gets angry too easily but actually he ignored your mistakes for quite a few times before but you didn’t notice nor did you change your behavior. Jungkook tends to observe people for a while and then classify them into categories. His attitude towards you will depend on how he has categorized you, not on your first mistake. So if he has classified someone as a trouble maker, he will easily snap at them, and if he has classified someone as a good person, he will be more patient with them. This classification is not permanent of course and changes with time as per as your behavior. So if Jeon Jungkook treats you badly, be sure that he had given you plenty of chances to redeem yourself and he probably also has the receipts to prove it lol. This classifying system extends to everyone, whether you are a close friend or a stranger. So a waiter spilling drinks on him will be the same as a close friend spilling drinks on him. In fact, the waiter has more chances of being forgiven because it was a genuine first mistake, but a close friend could get yelled at if they repeatedly did this.

Jungkook tends to have very high expectations from those he cares about. But not in a superficial way. It is actually a love language for him. He puts a lot of importance on self development, which he himself follows. So he believes anyone who wants to do well in life should do this and that’s the advice he gives everyone. Remember when he told us to practice because there’s nothing that gets worse with practice? This is a very strong belief in him. But those around him can feel burnt out by his high expectations because not everyone thinks like him right? Especially not all the time. But he often fails to understand this and gets upset because he thinks they are self sabotaging by not focusing on their self improvement. However, this is another thing I see changing in him. He will gradually learn to be more understanding of differences in nature and opinions of people and learn to guide them without overstepping boundaries.

On the other hand, Jungkook knows and respects boundaries. He does not give unsolicited advice. But with him it’s like, he has to be specifically told what the boundaries are. If you are vague, for example, if you go to him asking for advice, he will take it upon himself to fully transform you and will hover over you, almost forcing you to do things his way. His reasoning would be that it was you who came to him for help and this is exactly the help you need. So you have to always show him clear boundaries. But once they have been set, he will always respect it because he is quite independent himself and respects personal space.

Jungkook has a pretty high IQ and he has a really high EQ. He could even be as book smart as Namjoon but it is something he almost chooses not to do. You will notice that he is really good at memorising English lines, he hardly forgets what he memorises. That’s book smart for you. But it’s almost as if he detests being so. He chooses to be street smart instead. His outfits are a reflection of this. It’s a subtle subconscious act of rebellion against system and authority, which he has always sort of felt oppressed by, since he is a K Pop idol. And since he can’t really quit, he takes every small opportunity to establish his individual choice, whether knowingly or unknowingly. Book smart or street smart, Jungkook is someone very thirsty for knowledge. He does actually read more than we know, but he mostly chooses to get his knowledge through more dynamic methods, one of which is by observing other people.

This brings me to the next point. Jungkook is extremely interested in people. He learns a lot, like new concepts, what is right or wrong, new ideas, etc. by observing people, not just in terms of work, but also personality wise. This is why he is so good at imitating people, which makes me think he could also become an actor someday and be successful at it. His high EQ also makes him understand people more than we know.

Although mature, Jungkook is also very childlike in a lot of ways. Especially when he thinks and acts from his heart. He genuinely loves people even before fully knowing them. He simply loves them because loving people is a good thing to do. His love also comes from gratitude. Which is why his love for Armys is so genuine. He does not fake it because he does not need to fake loving or being grateful. It is only when someone gives him a solid reason to be angry or sad with, that he changes his attitude towards them. Jungkook is someone who you can easily walk up to and he will be very polite and nice to you. However, he is not the type to make immediate close friends because he is very reserved and he will carefully screen everyone before allowing them into his private circle. But he is also the type to always smile at his acquaintances and people he regularly sees even if they are not close friends. He won’t ignore anyone just because he doesn’t know them or because they are beneath his level. In this sense Jungkook is very down to earth. He is also quite righteous. He deeply believes that it is wrong to misbehave with people due to their positions in society. I feel like he might have been mistreated when he was not successful (I mean we all know all of BTS was so it’s very likely) which is why he makes sure he doesn’t do that now that he is successful.

Having said that though, Jungkook is not extremely approachable. There is a certain air of unattainabilty that he deliberately keeps around himself. For example, if you met him at a private party or something instead of a televised BTS event, you will clearly know that he is a big celebrity. He doesn’t misbehave with anyone, he is actually quite polite, but people just feel that star aura. It’s almost like a protective shield for him. You couldn’t approach him unless he clears that air and makes himself approachable. Otherwise you will just look at him from far away, admire him (or hate him) and go away. This is not something he does to belittle others, this is a defence mechanism against those that try to get close to him to get some benefit off of him or manipulate him, which he is actually quite aware of.

Jungkook is not easily manipulated as I discussed earlier. But he always puts up a front as if he is extremely vulnerable and gullible so that people underestimate him and show their true colors quickly. Meanwhile he observes, classifies, and moves on before you could even tell what happened there.

When I say Balance is a big challenge for him it’s because he has many different personality traits that directly contradict each other. For example, he’s a careful planner but he also gets bored of routine very quickly. He takes each decision very slowly but sometimes he will be shockingly spontaneous. He is independent but he is also clingy. All of these are parts of him but it’s almost as if he struggles to keep up with them because he doesn’t know which one will come out when. Achieving balance and control over all of his different qualities will make him a truly unique and unstoppable person.

Besides balance, the biggest challenge Jungkook has is his rigidity of beliefs. He has very good intentions, good energy and drive, but he has to learn to be more flexible and adaptive, both when dealing with his work and people. He also tends to have a scarcity mentality which often manifests his worst fears into reality. The more he wants to avoid certain things, the more they come up in his life, simply because he is constantly living in fear.

Jungkook has a very strong heart chakra. He is literally love personified. He loves love. He loves to see it and he loves to experience it. It’s an adventure he yearns for. But his fear always takes him away from it. Either in terms of problems in his relationships or breakups or interferences and scandals. In spite of that, he always bounces back and his heart chakra heals pretty quickly. Not in a promiscuous way where he is serial dating. This is more like his heart is always a place for true love, it does not store any negative energy for too long. This is why Jungkook’s biggest successes will result from decisions he takes based on his deep feelings. This is also because he has a habit of overthinking so feelings can solve this problem. For example, if he has to take a big work decision, he tends to overthink it from all directions and get confused because every option seems right. But if he listens to his feelings about it, he will find the right answer. Operating from his heart chakra will also make him centered and grounded to achieve that required balance between his many personality traits.

Another big tool at Jungkook’s disposal is his throat chakra. Jungkook is very communicative. He believes that the foundation of all good relationships, the solution to all problems is communication. However, he struggles with timing and empathy quite often. He sometimes says the right things at the wrong time creating misunderstandings that he did not intend. Or stays silent that allows people to paint a wrong picture of him. He also sometimes fails to see things from others’ points of view and tends to see his thoughts and beliefs as the be all and end all.

His biggest tools also have the biggest blocks. It’s like his heart chakra is this huge power generator inside him but it’s blocked because he keeps it shut or underutilized and lets his brain do all the work, which is only half his power and potential. And his throat chakra is blocked because he is too worried about other people’s judgement of him which blocks his flow of communication.

However, the biggest strength of Jungkook and my favorite thing about him is that he is very open minded and willing to learn. He is rigid with his thoughts only when he truly believes he is in the right. If you can logically and respectfully show him where he is wrong, he will immediately proceed to change his ways. He is a true lifelong learner and this is what will ultimately lead him to massive success. He is proud only with things that he believes to be right, as he has a very strong set of values. But he doesn’t let pride get in the way of self development, in fact he is always on the lookout for opportunities that will improve him in some way or the other.

[yanderemommabean]

Yandere Illness Bakugou Katsuki (By Admin Mommabean)

The villain was definitely an easy take down. Small time crooks are always biting off more than they can chew in a fruitless effort to become the next big scare in the news and media. A few civilians were bruised up, but thankfully alive, all thanks to the new top ten heroes who were able to arrive on time. Katsuki was one of the first on the scene, getting up close and personal in his usual brash and on-sight attack methods, typically looked down upon by much more thorough and examining heroes after things were wrapped up. 

This time wasn’t unlike any other. The villain attacked, said some stupid things about how heroes are hypocrites, and was under Katsukis fist or boot once the soliloquy was about halfway done and grating on his nerves. Self righteous villains got on his nerves more than Izuku did when he was overly nerding out with people. 

The villain mumbled something incoherent when the cops arrived to lock them away, looking Katsuki dead in the eyes as they did so. He could only make out the last few words, and considered it drugged up nonsense. Something along the lines of “Your darkest desires will take over. I’m not the only one who’s sick”. 

Whatever that was supposed to mean, Katsuki couldn’t care less. He’s heard all types of death threats before, so this was nothing! A joke at this point really. “Mr. Bakugou, we need to inform you about this attack, it's urgent, but needs to be done in private” an investigator advised, taking his attention away from the car hauling the perpetrator away.  He nods in a silent agreement, about to ask when he should arrive, but was bombarded by media personnel and flashing phone cameras. 

He said his usual replies, knowing that things needed to be kept out of the spotlight for now until they figured out exactly what the villain was up too, and said about his usual amount of curse words along the entire short lived interviews.  

“Alright everyone, we have important issues to cover! Please leave your questions to the officers to the left of you, I need a moment with Mr. Ground Zero” A calm voice stated with hands held up to block his face from the paparazzi. Katsuki groans as the flock fleets over to the officers in a heartbeat, thankful that the man came to his rescue so to speak. 

“Their attention is off of me, so what’s wrong? This villain got some sort of mass murder planned like the old league?” he bit out with his arms crossed over his chest. Every other year, there’s a bad guy trying to redo what shigaraki couldn’t, and its getting pathetic that they keep trying. He recalls a villain last year who tried to be tough with a weak quirk, and it only ended in them being beaten up by Deku and him. Honestly, when will they learn? 

“That’s the issue. They weren’t a villain or a hero, just a civilian who was trying to get a coffee. The next thing we’re told, he’s proclaiming asinine things about love and his desire for some poor girl at the counter who he’s supposedly known for less than a year, attacking some people with his quirk when they tried to tell him to back off”. 

Well that's nuts. Was he upset that he got rejected? A love story gone wrong? 

“So he got his heart broken and retaliated in a bad way, doesn’t mean he has my sympathy, he still hurt people” He said blandly, as if he wasn’t affected. 

“We think its an illness. These cases have been popping up all over the country, as if its a disease that’s airborne. The symptoms are all the same” The man explained with a worried expression. “Well, we assumed it was airborne anyway...Now it seems to be more by droplets and touch. We’re concerned that this outbreak may have been passed to you, and we need to do some testing as soon as possible. I wish I had time to explain more, but we need to start disinfecting people as soon as possible”. 

What? This dude is telling him that he might be infected with a disease that makes him fall in love or some shit? That’s nuts! Absolutely batshit! “Im not letting some nerd tell me i'm sick if you can’t even tell me why this is so dangerous. I think I'll be just fine” he bites out, beginning to turn and head towards his house. 

“Mr please! It could be life and death! Just-” the medic stammers, trying not to anger the hot headed hero “Just...don’t come in contact with anyone for a while, and I’ll do what I can to explain everything. Please?” he asks with a pleading expression, hoping that the top hero would at least consider his options. 

With an annoyed huff, Katsuki nods, but doesn’t give anymore confirmation than that. He just wanted to continue his patrol and head home, he needed a nice shower after being covered in dirt and scratches. 

He walks in his home about half an hour later, scratching his head to shake loose some dirt as he flicks on the light. He huffed, tossing his mask aside to the couch while shutting the door with his foot. Soap and water sounded pleasant right about now, and he could feel his muscles aching for the attention of a steamy shower. 

“Your darkest desires will take over. I’m not the only one who’s sick” 

Those words echoed in his head as he stands under the spray of the water. What could they possibly mean? Were they aware that they were ill with whatever that nerd was telling him about? Were they even the same person anymore? 

He shakes his head and tries to focus on just relaxing, shampooing his hair and humming to himself softly, making the world around him nonexistent for a few moments as his eyes closed in thought. As usual, his personal time was short, and the ringing of his phone caused him to once again be aware that reality kinda sucks. 

He turned off the water and tried to dry his hands the best he could, picking up the device with a scowl “yeah? What is it?” He bit out water still dripping from his hair as he wrapped a towel around his waist. “M-Mr. Bakugo! I'm sorry if this is inconvenient, but I just got some news that you needed to hear! That man who was sent away was tested, and it turns out he was contaminated by a new virus”. 

“And? What's that gotta do with me? “ He asked with a quirked eyebrow “I need a shot or whatever?”. 

“There’s a vaccine being made now, but no cure....The symptoms and signs are hard to tell until its too late”. 

He knit his brows together while listening in, becoming slightly nervous “What are the signs? Quit beatin’ around the bush and tell me already!”. 

The man's voice squeaked a bit, and he began to try and explain without stuttering in fear. “Obsessive thoughts over someone, possessive behavior, delusional thinking, aggressive actions that can lead to injury or death for the other person, anxiety, insomnia- The list goes on! Its...It’s like a-”

“Like a love virus” Katsuki finished, his cheeks becoming red from the thought of who he could possibly even fall for. “You think I have it? You think I’d hurt people if I do?” He asked while trying to cover the worry in his voice, knowing that in order to solve problems you often have to remain level headed. 

“It’s hard to say at this moment, sir, but I can always send someone to do tests if you feel you’re having early signs and symptoms. For now, just use standard caution when meeting people. Gloves, masks, anything you feel would protect you and others. I promise, our team is doing their best to stop this disease in its tracks”. 

Katsuki runs his fingers through his hair as he listens, humming small agreements before ending the call, placing his cell phone on the side of the sink with shaking hands. “I can’t be sick like that bastard! I won’t let it happen!” he says aloud, looking at himself in the foggy mirror before him. 

“I’m not sick. I won’t get sick. I'm a hero! Heroes don’t get sick! They help the sick!” he states while pointing at himself. “I. Won’t. Get. Sick”. He’s sure he’s fine! He won’t get these symptoms! No, he’s as healthy as can be! 

Poor thing has no idea that the virus has already taken over, and that his trials have just begun. 

[disasterbialert]

So, I finished The Untamed and ok ok I think I have collected most of my thoughts about it. (I’m late, so I guess these thoughts don’t really matter, but I wanted to put them somewhere and here seemed like the place.) SO here’s a post absolutely NO ONE WANTS and imma do it anyway cool cool.

Firstly: love. This entire show is about love. Obviously other things too ok I’m simplifying for the sake of my point. But importantly it is about love. The love for our families, found, made and blood. The love of soulmates, romantic and platonic. The love of humanity, of the people known and unknown, love for them purely because they are human and are therefore deserving of love. The love inherent in honour and duty, the sacrifices made for that love. Loving someone—bravely, in the face of every adversity, despite being told it’s wrong. Learning to be true to that love, learning to love faithfully, learning to love, to show love, to be loved.

Bless the tireless translators. Y’all. The work you do is often thankless but y’all are so valued. Thank you.

The music. I actually don’t have the words for this, I can only thank the composers and musicians for the gifts they have blessed us with. My heart my heart my heart.

The costumes, set, props and cinematography are all so exquisite. I’m not an expert in any of these fields but I can see the care and detail paid to each facet of this show. What an absolute visual joy. Stunning.

And now, the characters.

I’ll start with the ladies. They deserved so much more. We deserved to have more than just one by the end, but I understand this wasn’t their story (still hurts tho).

Jiang Yanli. Proof that kindness is powerful. Her heart holds entire worlds. She is not weak (don’t even try me I swear to the gods). She holds her family together. She takes care of her siblings. She feeds their bodies and their souls. WWX is right—JZX does not deserve her but that’s because nobody does. But Jiang Yanli deserves to be happy, therefore her marriage to the Flower Peacock is valid purely bc it makes her happy. She stands up for what’s right, she will not compromise her morals, she will defend her family to her last breath (and so she does💔). She does not harden herself, she does not have to. Her patience and kindness, her softness, her gentleness—things that are seen as weaknesses or inferiorities—are what put her above all around her. She is gracious, she is strong, she is loving, she is determined, she is brave. She deserved better.

Wen Qing. A queen. A powerhouse. The most brilliant mind. A lightning-quick and sharp-bladed tongue. She loves Wen Ning so much and her love is powerful, just as Jiang Yanli’s. Her dedication and devotion to her people, her true family, not just a name, is incredible, inspiring. Why? Because she’s not perfect. So she learns. She grows. She becomes herself. When she’s at the Burial Mounds, she essentially adopts WWX as another younger brother, caring for him because she knows he won’t care for himself, and she does so out of love and respect. But she never replaces Jiang Yanli. She is keenly aware of all she perceives WWX loses because he aids them. Hence the pivotal, crucial: I’m sorry and thank you. She walks to what she knows is her own death with her head held high and her hand in her brother’s, offering love and support and what protection she can to the end. She does not flinch. She does not bow. She fights with all of her and surrenders with grace not reflected by those she surrenders to. Honestly I could write an entire thesis on Wen Qing but I’ll cry too hard so I’ll just leave it here that she deserved better, she deserved to live, she deserved to be free.

Mian Mian. Mian motherfucking Mian. Here is a woman who stares injustice full in the face and says no fucking way, says over my dead body, says you and what army old man. Strips the robes of the hypocritical off her own damn body, throws them at the feet of a false god and walks out, back straight, head held high. She makes her own way in the world, carves out her own life, finds love and happiness and lives. She does not compromise. She does not bow. She fights and she wins and she is glorious. And she lives she lives she lives.

Yu ZiYuan. I may be in the minority here but that’s ok. No I don’t approve of her abuse, just gonna nip that one in the bud right out of the gate. Was she fair? No. Was she cruel? Yes. Was she an incredible fighter who fought for her family, for her home? Who showed raw courage and furious strength in the face of insurmountable odds? Who loved a man with her whole bitter heart, loved her children with that same fractured heart? Was clearly the subject of spiteful rumour and vicious gossip and did not let it defeat her? Refused to bow to anyone? I do not like her, do not like how her bitterness made her cruel. But seeing her wield her blade, take wound after wound, witness the death of her love, then take her own blade and rob the monsters invading her home of the satisfaction of taking her life, took her own life with her own hands because that’s how she did everything in her life so why the fuck wouldn’t she do it in death too, who crawled her way to the man she loved, laced their fingers together so he wouldn’t die alone, so they could both die held? How can I not respect her.

Ok. The lads.

Jiang Cheng is a man-child idiot with the emotional expression range of a loquat, an inferiority complex the size of the moon and self-worth issues going back farther than the Big Bang, and I love him, ok? He loves so hard and so much and it is heartwrenching that he cannot communicate that. Some of his best moments are actually in the background, which is both funny and terribly sad. His rage is at times ridiculous, at times frustrating, at times all he has left, his joy is bright but brief, his grief is devastating. Watching JY greet WWX after the 3 months in the Burial Mounds. The entire temple scene. Crying on his knees. We were to be the Heroes of Yunmeng. Take care. Fuck me right in my feelings ok.

Wen Ning is so fucking precious and I would die for him for all eternity. What an absolute gift his character is. I honestly can’t write much more about him because I’ll cry. But special mentions to his interactions with A-Yuan/Lan SiZhui and the incredible scene where he reveals to Jiang Cheng the truth about his/WWX’s golden core. Unparalleled emotional intensity. The equal parts tenderness and fierceness of his love is breathtaking.

And the loves.

Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen. There is a lot of tragedy in The Untamed. There is great sadness in the main plot line and even in the small side plots. The Ballad of Song Lan and Xian Xingchen (as it’s come to be known in my head) is for me the most devastating and poignant. They just wanted to do good, to wander the world together and do their part to make it a better and safer place. It’s noble, yes, but it’s also so human, so close to home. Because we all want that, to know that we can do some good before we leave this world. They do not want to be involved in the petty squabbles, the undignified and cruel vying for power and dominance. They simply want to live and be. The fact that both of their deaths are pointless, could have been avoided, are the faults of poor timing and terrible terrible luck and cruel turns fate is almost what makes it sadder. Xue Yang screams that XXC is not better than him, that his righteousness and the righteous way he has attempted to live his life is all for naught. And then he is immediately proven wrong—XXC’s heartbreak means he can’t become XY’s puppet. SL is free from XY’s control and avenges himself and XXC. Which is also somehow just as devastating. That XXC and SL were so close, so very close to being together, to living, to making it, but didn’t. Nothing grand or heroic about their deaths—just the unknown and unpredictable nature of life. There is no rhyme or reason, no big important plan, no fate or destiny. They both simply die as we all one day will. And it is their potential cut short, the love and life they could’ve had, that hurts the most. They are not Lan Zhan and Wei Ying: they do not get their second chance, their reunion, their happily ever after. The look shared between SL and LWJ—the shared grief, the recognition, the understanding—and LWJ’s brief and unelaborated-on comment to WWX ‘how fortunate’ speaks volumes. How fortunate you came back/I found you/that’s not us when it could’ve been. That final shot of SL walking away and the brief out-of-focus moment of XXC walking beside him—particularly when it’s echoed with the parallel of WWX and LWJ—chokes me every time.

Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. Soulmates in every sense of the word. Their song. Their bunnies. Their child. The years they were robbed of. The yearning. The pining. The loyalty. The growth. The love the love the love. The loss the loss the loss. Every Lan Zhan. Every Wei Ying. Every glance. Every soft breath. Every gentle touch. The tenderness. The intimacy. The quiet acceptance. Their love story is one of the ages and, on a personal note as a queer person, what a gift it is to see a queer love story like this. (even when censored as a bromance, which like I mean, they tried but the glances alone are +9000 gay pining but whatever and yes I am making a joke because I’m crying don’t look at me)

TL;DR: I am so thankful The Untamed/CQL/MDZS and all of its adaptations (the source material included obvs) exists. I am so thankful to the writers, translators, casts, crews, creators. I am thankful for the community of fans that exist that love it as I do, who share that love and passion—whether through passionate discussion, rich fanfic or mind-blowing fanart. I am thankful I live in a time where content like this exists and can be shared. I learned a whole lot and I’m so grateful there aren’t even words. Love y’all. I’m gonna go be soft now. 💙

[redhoodieone]

Star-Crossed Universe

A/N: Yes!!! I’M BACK!!! This project has been on the back burner for so long and its finally time to upload it on here. I’m not sure what you all will think but hey...it’s fan fiction and everything and anything goes.

Warnings: Language, Humor (bad and good jokes), Sexual Conversations, and an ultimate Team-Up.

Plot: When Y/N is thrown into a mission way out of her league, she, and magician best friend Zatanna must stop strong demonic forces from entering earth through an unknown portal that John Constantine may have opened. With the assistance from the Dark Knight himself, a mysterious 1967 black Impala arrives in Gotham just when things start to go to hell. But who called the Winchesters? Why is there a clairvoyant bond between Y/N and Dean Winchester? And why does Castiel, an angel of the Lord, believe John Constantine isn’t who he says he is? And will Dean wear the Batsuit?

Move over Scooby-Natural because it’s Batman’s turn! The Winchesters join Batman and Y/N (You!) in taking down a villain who isn’t an everyday monster for Supernatural!

Please enjoy and comment! If you want a Part 2, please let me know.

  Part 1

 I don’t remember a time where tears felt like my own. Of course, it doesn’t help that I’m standing on the ledge when Gotham is down pouring like it always does at night. It shouldn’t be a surprise, really. Gotham is the only city in the US of A that is dark, depressing, manic, and suicidal.

 Even Superman refuses to stay here for more than a day.

 I’m not any better. The only reason why I’m literally dangling my feet over the edge is because I’m numb.

 Numb to feelings.

Numb to pain.

Numb to life.

 Bottom line is breakups fucking suck period. Especially if your ex-boyfriend is Bruce Wayne.

 And Batman.

 I don’t know why I put myself through this. The bitter pain of having to work with someone you love but to know they’ll never love you as much. Maybe this is why I should have never worked with Bruce.

 Dick left first and has successfully made a name for himself, Nightwing, in Bludhaven.

 Jason comes and goes throughout the months and has his own team of misfits who do good but cause chaos as well.

 Even Tim and Damian are working together. They’re training and leading the Titans. The last I heard from them is that they’re doing just fine.

 Except me.

 Who am I kidding? I can’t compare myself to Bruce’s kids even though I’m closer to Dick’s age than Bruce’s.

 Maybe that’s why it didn’t work out between us. Bruce is almost my father’s age, late forties early fifties. And he’s still sexy as fuck; stronger than ever.

 And here I am in my early thirties, expecting more than just a wordless promise of something more than casual sex and the uncertainty of the future.

 After three months ago, I’m trying desperately hard to not care anymore. The only constant thing in my life is being Night Bat, and I’ll die with only that part of me.

 Death.

 The one place where everything and nothing hurts anymore.

 “Y/N.”

 My head jerks to the right side where Zatanna is standing. With her hands on her hips, I can see her blue eyes blinking sadness and guilt. For a beautiful woman like Z, her broken expression is almost tragic enough to make me cry like her.

 If my own tears were my own. Maybe my tears are Gotham’s.

 “It’s Etrigan. He’s...” Zatanna chokes on her words. She literally holds her neck and tries to stop sobbing. “He’s dead.”

 I can feel my eyebrows raise as confusion and disbelief crash over me.

 “Dead?” I repeat. I can’t even believe that word is coming from my mouth. Etrigan is tough. Etrigan is a shithead. Etrigan cannot be dead. “How?”

 Zatanna shrugs her shoulders as her lips quiver. Seeing her broken up makes me feel like an asshole for not comforting her. So, I stand up and go over to her. Taking her by surprise, I hug her tightly.

 She’s my best friend. My sister. My partner in crime whenever we get into bad shit. (Sometimes...maybe).

 After Zatanna hugs me, she takes a step back and wipes her tears with her gloved hand.

 “He-he was stabbed. I... I don’t know by what but he bled and he was never one to really bleed, you know? I checked everything out and he’s dead. He’s really gone. But it was...a very fucking strange thing. Really,” Zatanna rambles on anxiously. Whenever she cusses, I know she’s angry and stressed out. “Whatever killed him, it’s not from around here. What I sensed near him, it’s not human. It’s not magical. It’s not even Kryptonian or extraterrestrial.”

 I swallow hard. “What do you think it is then?”

 “Demonic.”

_________________________________________________

 “Have you contacted John?” I ask. My voice is rough and breathless. I’m busy shoving as much weapons as I can in my backpack, along with a few clothes and a book from Alfred about demonology. He said it was a gift from Constantine himself.

 I stare down at my long, silver triple-edged dagger that I found on one of my solo missions in Kansas when Bruce was fighting

 “Not in... six months.”

 The guilt in her voice makes me turn to glance at her. “Seriously?”

 I glance down at my black pants and boots to make sure I’m appropriately and comfortably dressed for tonight. I slip on a red and black checkered flannel over my form fitting black tank top.  After rolling up the sleeves to my elbows, I put on my black leather jacket and turn to face Zatanna.

 “What, am I supposed to keep in touch with my ex-boyfriend? I thought ex-boyfriends were meant to stay ex-boyfriends, not friends. And besides, you keep in touch with Bruce,” Zatanna responds smugly.

 “He’s...a co-worker...that’s-thats different.”

 “Bullshit,” Z laughs.

 I roll my eyes. “Whatever. I need a drink before we start...” I say, waving my hand up dramatically. “Whatever this is. I think a stop at Lucky’s is what we need.”

 “A trip to the bar is what YOU need,” Zatanna replies.

 She follows me out of my apartment until we stop in the parking lot where my motorcycle is parked. I don’t see her standing behind me with her arms crossed and eyebrow raised, as I take a seat on my bike and set myself up to ride.

 “What?” I ask, genuinely confused.

 “I could just you know...poof is there.”

 “Yeah, you could like you always do, but I need to ride my baby right now. It’s like, therapy for the low self-esteem, loner, rebels,” I say.

 To my surprise, Zatanna nods her head and gives me a small smile. I’m grateful she understands how much riding my motorcycle makes me happy. Makes me breathe. Makes me feel alive.

 “I’ll see you there, Y/N/N.”

 “See ya, Z.”

 And with that, Zatanna poofs for real. Her magic still surprises me. Whenever I see her perform her spells and tricks, I feel like I’m reliving magic shows I saw as a kid that I used to believe were real and powerful.

 But to know what Zatanna does is real is still unbelievable sometimes.

 And to think we have been best friends for five years now...amazing how time flies by I’m between laughs and heartbreaks.

 Revving my bike, I waste no time speeding out of the parking garage and into the streets of Gotham. The rain and wind in my hair sends me chills, as the lights and buildings pass me by so fast that I feel like everything I see is a blur; almost like in a dream-like state.

 Lucky’s is just a small country rustic bar outside of Gotham. City people usually don’t go there as the place is purely meant for drifters and stranded loners. I happen to love the bar. If I’m ever feeling down or angry, I always drop by to get drunk or frisky if I’m ever in the mood. Bruce was always disappointed in me for that. He always used to say I’m better than that and I shouldn’t put myself down.

 I sometimes think he’d want to say I’m easy, but Bruce is just so complicated sometimes. He can either be a total asshole or be the gentle sweetheart he is. You never know which side you’d see sometimes.

 Almost like Two-Face.

 Swerving into the mud to park alongside trucks and other bikes, I climb off my motorcycle and glance around the dirt lot. I recognize a few vehicles parked already. A new black Escalade parked closer to the bar is different and catches my attention rather quickly.  

 I pull my hair back into a ponytail and start my way over to the expensive ass vehicle when suddenly a black car speeds right pass me and parks right next to my bike, sending mud flying to my pants and on my bike! Rage suddenly takes over me. I can feel my blood boil and my jaw clench as several curse words come to mind. I twist around and instead make my way to that motherfucker’s car.

 A black 1967 Impala? What a fucking joke.

 As if this motherfucker owns this American classic. This self-righteous, prick probably stole it from some old fool or maybe his own old man.

 I’m ready to break this douchebag’s face. Knock all his teeth out and break his cock into two…maybe three pieces.

 I finally reach the driver’s door and quickly open it; door swinging back. This must piss off the man a lot, but I don’t care right now.

“Look, you motherfucker! You think you can just drive like a bat out of hell and get fucking mud on MY baby?!  Get out of this fucking car so I can break you apart with my bare hands!” I yell angrily and loudly.

The man climbs out of his car, but my anger suddenly vanishes. What the hell?

Holy fucking shit…this man is…hot.

Standing at 6’1, this man is almost intimidating. With short brown hair, tan skin, hypnotizing green eyes, and freckles splattered over his nose and cheeks, he’s fucking adorable…and sexy. I can’t help but stare up at him.

He smirks down at me. Underneath his dark jacket, he’s wearing a flannel shirt and black Henley, where I can already see his strong chest, muscled arms, and soft tummy.

“Looks like sweetheart likes what she sees, Sammy. I’d say we made the right choice for coming out to Gotham,” the man speaks smugly. His voice is deep and husky, more addicting than any liquor inside the bar.

Another man comes over to us from around from the car. This man, I’m assuming his Sammy, is FUCKING TALLER than the hot one in front of me!

Sammy chuckles lightly at me. Pushing his longer brown hair from his face, he quickly reaches out to shake my hand.

“Hi, I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean.”

The second those words leave his mouth; we hear someone quickly approaching us. Zatanna. And from the looks of theirs, they’re shocked and surprised to see my friend in her usual, sexy magician number.

Zatanna smiles, nonetheless. “Well, if it isn’t the Winchesters. We’ve been expecting you.”