#i portrayed this scene in a much more helpless tone

[i-heart-hxh]

does ikalgo have deeper significance to killua's character? i get that hes like a new friend for killua but why does it feel like he was portrayed so importantly to killua's character during caa? its like theres a deeper meaning, why did killua go out his way just to save ikalgo from those two chimera ants when they entered the building? and why did he look so hesitant? he had thoughts that said "what am i doing..? why the hell am i going the opposite direction?" or something like that. idk it just feels like togashi was implying something abt killua there but i cant figure out what that is. do u have an idea?

Hello! This is a great question!

Ikalgo's friendship with Killua is vital both to Killua's development and also to Chimera Ant arc as a whole! I can explain that significance.

Throughout much of the series, Killua tags along with Gon and primarily focuses on him. He befriends other people, certainly, but he generally does this through Gon--it's not like he's going out of his way to make these friends on his own.

In Chimera Ant Arc, the connection between Gon and Killua gets somewhat disrupted by the events that happen, and Gon's focus shifts primarily to saving Kite and his revenge on Pitou, leaving Killua to worry and feel somewhat left behind and helpless (partly as a result of the the Palm situation as well).

When Killua splits off from Gon to try and save civilians, he meets and a battles an enemy at the time, Ikalgo.

During their fight, Killua gives Ikalgo a choice: Either sell out his friends by revealing their nen powers, or die. Ikalgo chooses to die rather than betraying his friends, and Killua is able to relate to this loyalty. He spare's Ikalgo's life and tells Ikalgo that if they'd met another way, maybe they could have been friends.

Killua's kindness in empathizing with Ikalgo and sparing him is the only thing that saves his life later when he's bleeding out from the needlefish darts. Had Killua not extended that mercy and said those kind words to Ikalgo, Ikalgo would not have saved him, and he would have died.

It's interesting/neat how the scene right after Ikalgo saving Killua from the needlefish involves Gon having his own encounter with another friendly Chimera Ant, and the tone of their conversation is quite a bit different:

Contrast is so important in Chimera Ant Arc!

Anyway, when Killua shows Ikalgo mercy, makes it clear that they're friends now, and invites him to come along and be part of the human side of the war, he essentially becomes to Ikalgo what Gon has been to him: Someone who represents light, and who represents a path forward to a better life. In this arc, Killua worries that he doesn't deserve a place at Gon's side, but at the same time here he extends the same kind of light and hope that Gon gave him to someone else.

As for the scene where Killua breaks off away from Gon in the Palace Invasion in order to protect Ikalgo, this continues to show Killua's world expanding outside of Gon. Notice how in this page, it clearly shows Killua leaving Gon behind--they have their backs to each other, which is a frequent image in this arc. His mission was to protect Gon and make sure Gon could complete his revenge against Pitou, so deviating from that mission is both shocking to him, and potentially dangerous, but it shows that he's starting to protect and care for others as well as Gon.

Now, I want to be clear that I see this as a positive step for Killua. At this point in the series, Killua had made Gon his entire reason for living, essentially, and him going outside of that and making other friends and protecting and caring about them is a vital step for his character. It's showing that he's becoming a more expansive, mature person who can care for multiple people (or ants) at once rather than centering his entire existence and sense of self around one person. He made this action as quickly and efficiently as possible so he could get back to Gon's side, but he did go out of his way and leave Gon behind momentarily, and even he is surprised by this.

And while obviously I adore his nearly single-minded love and devotion for Gon, with what happens between them in this arc he needs to have others in his life besides Gon, and it's part of his transition into also being the light for Alluka and Nanika. It's a result of Killua's own innate kindness and empathy and the choice he made to leave his previous life behind, but also, he was able to reach this point partly because Gon showed him the love and encouragement he needed to become the person he is.

Now, as for Ikalgo's role in the arc as a whole: He's part of a chain of kindness and mercy that ends up changing the entire outcome of the Chimera Ant arc. This post puts it incredibly well. The chain of kindness started at the beginning of the series, with Gon befriending and rescuing Killua in spite of his background, which then eventually leads to Killua sparing Ikalgo (who then saves Killua right back), and then Ikalgo sparing Welfin, and then Welfin giving Meruem Komugi's name so that they got to be together in the end. Ikalgo shows the consequences of Killua's kindness, which are also the consequences of Gon's kindness, in part.

A major theme of the series and of Chimera Ant arc is that love and kindness are transformative, and Ikalgo has such an important role in demonstrating that theme.

[i-heart-slashers]

Storybook Endings

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Star x female!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Novels had never been your thing but when you and Star make a comparison between yourselves and characters from a romance book sparks fly. Maybe having a happy ending was easier than it looked in books?

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.1 k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | n/a

In the small haven hidden from the prying eyes of mortal passersby, you were itching to do something, anything, but you had decided to stay behind at the cave, keeping yourself from your natural chaotic impulses.

You and Star sat in the depths of the cave, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the cracks above. It was unusually quiet since the boys were out hunting and tormenting the living.

The cave, adorned with ancient tapestries and flickering torches, echoed with the whispers of centuries-old secrets and the laughter of immortal beings.

It was home for you and your brothers, but not everyone felt that way.

Star was a half-vampire way before you were, and neither of you had taken the full plunge yet. Not that being a vampire bothered you, it was more of you sticking by Star until she was ready.

You would often tease and flirt with Star, your words dripping with innuendo and playful banter, much to the amusement of your shared coven-mates/brothers.

Somehow, your lives became intertwined in the shadowy embrace of your nocturnal existence given by an elder with a simple sip from an ornate bottle.

With your usual mischievous smile and playful demeanor, you often found yourself drawn to Star, the mysterious beauty with an air of quiet contemplation.

Yet, despite your persistent advances, Star remained unswayed in her skepticism, dismissing your flirtations as mere jests born out of boredom or amusement.

Little did she know, however, that beneath your playful facade lay a heart desiring for something deeper, something more profound than mere amusement.

Something she had witnessed many times from you when you had been 'bait' or the 'lure' for the guys-… it was something that came easy to you.

As Star lounged on the cozy but worn couch in the cave's shared space, a book cradled in her hands, her eyes sparkled with excitement.

She was engrossed in the world of the novel spread open before her, a world where love bloomed in unexpected places, and hearts found their perfect matches.

The book in question was a romance novel that Dwayne, who shared Star's passion for tales of love and connection, had recommended to her as he usually did.

Both of them are helpless romantics at heart.

The soft glow of the candles illuminated Star's features, casting a warm aura around her. With each turn of the page, her eyes sparkled with excitement, and she was completely captivated by the story unfolding before her.

You watched from across the room, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips as you observed Star's enthusiasm. You knew just how much she adored romance novels, often losing herself in the fantastical worlds of love and passion they portrayed.

Her passion was admirable, and you find it endearing how she could become so invested in the lives of fictional characters.

As Star reached a particularly heartwarming scene, she couldn't help but let out a soft sigh, her fingers tracing the words on the page with a sense of reverence. "Oh, this is so adorable," she murmured, her voice filled with genuine affection. "I love them so much."

You raised an eyebrow, curious about the characters that had captured your Star's imagination. "Who are you in love with this time, doll?" you asked, your tone laced with amusement but not mocking.

Star looked up from her book, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "It's these two girls," she explained, her voice bubbling enthusiastically. "They're both so different, but they complement each other perfectly."

The curly-haired brunette sits up with a dreamy smile. "One is bold and adventurous, while the other is more shy and reserved. It's like they were made for each other."

Giving a soft smile, you nodded along, intrigued by Star's description. "Sounds like a compelling pair," you remarked, your interest piqued, especially when Star mentioned their characteristics.

With a delighted smile, Star launched into a passionate retelling of the budding romance between the two protagonists. She described the chance encounters, the stolen glances, and the electric tension that crackled between the characters whenever they were together.

Her hands gestured animatedly as she spoke, painting vivid images of the story unfolding in her mind.

"And then, get this," Star exclaimed, her voice rising with delight, "they finally confess their feelings for each other in the most romantic way possible! It's like something straight out of a fairy tale!"

You leaned back in the wheelchair, which would get you into trouble when David found out you were his 'throne,' but your gaze lingered on Star's animated expression.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy toward these fictional characters who seemed to have effortlessly captured Star's heart.

"What makes them so perfect?" you asked, your tone light and playful, though a hint of longing was hidden beneath the surface.

Star's eyes lit up as she launched into an enthusiastic explanation. "Well, for starters, Lily is this free-spirited artist who sees beauty in everything, while Rose is more melancholic and mysterious. They're like polar opposites but complement each other most beautifully."

"But the best part is how they bring out the best in each other," Star continued, her excitement palpable. "They challenge each other to step out of their comfort zones and grow as individuals. And the way they look at each other… It's like they can see straight into each other's souls."

You couldn't help but smile at Star's animated retelling of the story. You admired her ability to find beauty and depth in the simplest of narratives, her empathy shining through in her passionate descriptions.

As Star delved further into her analysis of the characters' dynamic, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to her enthusiasm. There was a warmth in her eyes, a softness in her voice that spoke volumes.

Listening intently, your heart fluttered at the passion in Star's voice, and you couldn't help but draw parallels between the fictional couple and yourselves, though you knew Star would never see it that way due to your flirtatious nature.

"It sounds like a beautiful story," you remarked once Star had finished recounting the latest plot twist, "I can see why you're so invested in it."

"It's more than just a story," Star replied earnestly. "It's like… it's like seeing a reflection of myself in those characters, you know? It's like they're living out the love story I've always dreamed of."

Your smile softened, a warm fondness glowing in your eyes as you gazed at Star as if seeing her for the first time all over again. "It sounds like you've really connected with them."

Star nodded eagerly. "Oh, absolutely! I adore them so much. I just want them to be together forever and live happily ever after." she sighs, almost as if reading that novel was a testament to what she wanted in her own life.

"That sounds like you and me right there," you blurted out before you could stop yourself, your words hanging in the air like an unspoken confession.

Star blinked in surprise, her eyes moving side to side as she thought about your words. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. You've never been one to shy away from your feelings, but something about the intensity of Star's gaze made you feel like you were standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering on the brink of something life-changing.

"I mean…" You began, your voice trailing off as they searched for the right words. "I mean, we're like Lily and Rose, aren't we? I'm the free-spirited one, always flirting and causing trouble, and you're the more reserved, analytical type…."

Star's eyes widened in realization, her lips parting in astonishment.

Before neither of us could dwell on the thought further, our conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps and loud, excited tones.

The boys had come home and gathered around the fire, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames as they made a ruckus with shared laughter.

Star sighs and walks away silently as the boys seemingly ignore her presence. She wanders out of the cave, holding her shawl close.

Paul rushes over, grabbing your shoulders. He roars with manic laughter before jumping on the fountain to grab his rock box. The other boys settle in the cave as it gets closer to sunrise.

Determined to confront your feelings head-on, you mustered the courage to seek out Star in the quiet solitude of the cliff in front of the cave. The crashing waters could be heard, and the boys' voices grew distant as you got further away.

As you approached, you found Star sitting alone on the cliff's edge, her gaze fixed on the moonlit horizon. You saw the deep thought on her face and could guess what she was thinking.

What if your words were nothing more than idle flirtation, devoid of any true meaning or intention.

You knew she would never take your advances seriously anymore… but they were. While matching your brother Paul, your playful, rambunctious flirtations were more than that when it came to Star.

The brunette turned to face you, and your eyes softened at the vulnerability she saw reflected in the other half-vampire's gaze. "I meant every word," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I may tease and flirt, but beneath it all, a part of me longs for something more… something real."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is…" you began, your voice trembling with emotion. "You're my Rose; you bring out the best in me."

You see Star's breath caught in her throat as she processes your confession. She had probably never considered the possibility that you might feel this way, but now that the words were out in the open, you could see the flutter of excitement building in her chest as she smiled.

"I love you too," Star whispered, her voice barely audible over the crash of the ocean waves. "you're my wild Lily…"

There was a resonance between the two of you, a connection that transcended the pages of a book. Like the characters Star had described, you both were different in many ways, yet you found harmony in your differences.

Star was the steady anchor to your boundless energy, grounding you when she needed it most. In turn, you brought light and laughter into Star's previously lonely life, filling the spaces with warmth and joy.

But it was more than just complementary traits that bound you together. It was how you supported each other, lifting each other up in moments of doubt and uncertainty.

It was the way you shared your hopes and dreams, weaving them together into a tapestry of shared experiences and aspirations. And the way you looked at each other, with a depth of understanding and acceptance, spoke of a love that knew no bounds.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest as you looked at Star, seeing her in a new light. You had always cherished your connection, treasuring the moments you shared together.

Whether it was forgoing a crazy night with Marko and Paul at the boardwalk to stay with Star while in her melancholic state of loneliness or taking her to the boardwalk to see whatever she was begging to see.

You were always there for her, and she was there for you.

But hearing Star compare you to the fictional characters she so adored brought a new sense of meaning to your relationship. The love between you grows a more profound sense of being.

Star felt her heart swell with emotion with their shared confessions, her own feelings laid bare in the quiet intimacy of the night. Without another word, she closed the distance between them, her hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek.

"It's just like my book," Star gushes with a whisper, finally gaining her own happy ending like all the books that Dwayne gives her, the ones she dreams of.

At that moment, beneath the watchful gaze of the moon above, you and Star surrendered to the pull of their hearts, your lips meeting in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of the love that had blossomed between you.

Smiling against her lips, you felt at home and at peace.

"I suppose it is," you finally replied, their voice soft with emotion. "But I think our story is even better than any romance novel." You joke, scrunching your nose playfully.

Star smiled, her eyes shining affectionately as she reached out to take your hand. "I couldn't agree more," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.

As you both embraced in the soft glow of moonlight, Star felt a surge of emotion wash over her, something she had been searching for. It was a feeling of belonginlg, of being seen and understood in a way that went beyond words.

[ssaalexblake]

Hot take but the kneel scene in spyfall is literally Tame for the doctor and the master, and I could provide a multitude of examples why and how (but not, I have to get ready to go out), but if This is your deal-breaker in context with All of their crap in general then it says far more about you than the show or the doctor and master's relationship on the whole.

I've seen people whine she's being submissive when no, she was threatened, if you want a submissive doctor look at ten who had the spinal strength of a wet strand of spaghetti when It came to the master. I've seen people use actively racist rhetoric around the whole situation. I've seen people use actively misogynistic rhetoric over the situation. Less seriously, I've seen the most media illiterate takes on the situation I can fathom that would have actively involved literally ignoring whole parts of the sequence to justify. I've seen some utter bullshit, basically.

Because as I said, for these two, him saying she kneel, her looking like she was planning a murder and doing it and then him immediately sinking to the floor with her and her immediately gaining the upper hand is the tamest of the tame. She then grinned like a shark bc he got injured, btw.

And I guess the question is, if you have an issue with this, and did Not with the two of them before this casting. Why not? This for them is tame, it was objectively bad, yes, but if this is bad then why isn't anything with the last two pairs on the shitlist? The master is a bad guy, first and foremost, to want him to behave well is naive as hell. To claim they'd not do this stuff to a white male doctor is patently false cuz we've seen them do it before.

The doctor and the master's characterisations have not changed here, the casting has. Any attempt at toning it down because the doctor is a poor waify blonde woman now would have been actively offensive in the kind of way you can't explain by saying this guy is a bad guy doing bad things. He does bad things. Of course it's offensive. It would actively be playing into sexist stereotypes narratively if you changed their dynamic bc the poor lady doctor can't handle the mean man.

I'm really sick of this discourse. If you're mad at chibnall era for making the master all Awful and Horrible bc they made 13 kneel at his feet, I have some bad news for you about how disgustingly simm treated ten. But most of the people saying this Do know that he did that and think it was a super cool plot.

Just because your clocking of abusive and toxic dynamics depends solely on the gender and/or race of the participants, doesn't mean it works that way for the rest of us. They've always been like this! Maybe use it as a learning experience. How about 'wow abusive dynamics are bad in any configuration' instead of 'this is obviously So Much Worse because the mean Asian man victimised the poor helpless white lady'.

The scene is not meant to portray something good. Literally even baby shows have characters do bad things to teach you how not to do things and to show how much they suck. Beyond that, it's not actually media's job to teach you morals anyway. You are not supposed to view a clearly bad scene as an endorsement of bad things, and if you missed that in lit classes, I'm not sure anybody can help you here.

[arttheclown]

alright alright i finally had time to sit down & compose my thoughts on how beelzemon / beelzebumon’s villain arc was handled in the original japanese sub versus the english dub because holy shit they are. different. i think both versions have their merits but there are things the dub got so wrong, especially as far as beelzemon’s relationship with renamon is concerned.

first off, i’m gonna talk about the differences - not so much which version did what better, but what sets them apart.

putting this under a cut because this is gonna be a long one. (also keep in mind i still have a couple eps left to watch from his villain arc in japanese, so i may reblog with an update or write a part 2 soon.)

1 -- the tone of impmon’s talk with caturamon (the “deal with the devil” scene) is very different in japanese. while it’s still a somber scene in dub & you feel sorry for impmon, his sarcasm is much more subdued in the original, drawing more attention to how scared & helpless he feels rather than his defence mechanisms.

i think what really drives this point home is that the little montage where he reflects on his time with his friends & realizes he’ll have to betray them in exchange for power; in the dub, old conversations are re-played for the audience, while in the og, these flashbacks are silent aside from a sad song that plays. this not only puts us in impmon’s shoes better, but helps set the tone for the tragedy of what’s about to happen & the gravity of his choice. i plan to upload a comparison soon. also, maybe it’s just me, but given that the last image we land on during the flashback montage is impmon striking renamon in the face... i’m inclined to believe that was supposed to signify that he was sorry for doing it, especially since the context of the flashbacks was that he’d harassed all of the main digimon in some way. maybe impmon was trying to tell himself that he’d already been so awful to them anyway that he might as well just cut his ties? who knows - but that’s something i feel sad music sold a lot better than voice-overs. 2 -- beelzemon / beelzebumon’s entire characterization. jesus christ, as someone who’s been praising how the dub handled such a dark storyline for years (and to be fair, derek stephen prince absolutely KILLS his role as beez in the best way), i was completely thrown off to see how radically different he is in the original. in the dub, beelzemon is still recognizable as impmon even during his reign of terror. he’s gone off the rails, but his speech patterns & personality remain the same - we’re just seeing a much darker side of him. it feels a lot like we’re watching a smaller person stumble around in a body that’s too big for them.

in japanese, beelzebumon’s demeanour is entirely different from impmon’s. his speech patterns aren’t the same & his cheeky from humour before is pretty much gone. he’s much colder. you don’t know who the hell you’re looking at anymore, which lends some disturbing credence to beelzebumon’s insistence that “impmon is dead.” for a second, you actually worry he might be telling the truth.

and then there’s his relationship with renamon & the role that plays in this particular storyline, which leads me to my next (and arguably most important) point.

3 -- i’m just gonna say it! i think the dub did the relationship between these characters dirty in this very pivotal storyline. i think there are aspects to enjoy about dub!beelzemon and sub!beelzebumon (depending on your preference on how his personality is portrayed), but they just. totally dropped the ball on his confrontation with kyubimon in episode 34 and i’m gonna explain why.

as mentioned before, sub!beelzebumon seems like a jarringly different character from impmon. almost unrecognizable. when caturamon reminds him that he has a job to do, he agrees to do it and seems prepared to carry out the gruesome task... until the moment comes for him to strike down kyubimon.

i’m gonna let these screencaps speak for themselves.

it’s only NOW that we see him breaking. he isn’t enjoying this, he doesn’t WANT to do it. he’s falling the fuck apart & it’s only now that we realize all of beelzebumon’s behaviour up until this point has been a facade. he blows up at kyubimon for “making him look like an idiot” because he’s still the same sad, insecure person he was before he evolved.

in the dub, we’re given pretty much the reverse of this set-up. beelzemon still acts very much like impmon - albeit an overpowered one - and doesn’t seem very happy when caturamon reminds him of their deal. (”let’s get this over with,” he says in response.) it gives the audience false hope that maybe he won’t actually follow through with it, making it feel like that much more of a betrayal when he does try to kill everyone & successfully takes leomon out of the picture. some people may praise that kind of bait-and-switch, and i get it, but...

there is far less real build-up to beelzemon going berserk in the dub. one minute his heart isn’t in it and the next he’s suddenly kicking kyubimon around and going out of his way to harm her. (which puts a really icky, abusive spin on their relationship that i don’t like at all.) the sub makes it much clearer that he’s trying to punish her for helping him & attempting to make things easier for himself by taking out the digimon he has the strongest connection with first. still a sick, unforgivable act, but one i can follow along with better on a psychological level.

which brings me to my final, and other Most Important point: the context of leomon’s death.

4 -- much like kyubimon, leomon recognizes immediately that beelzebumon doesn’t actually want to do this & that this isn’t the right path for him.

in the english dub, the dialogue is different & ultimately boils down to leomon telling beelzemon to fight him instead of going after the kids. that doesn’t happen here. beelzemon just kills him mid-conversation while leomon is trying to reason with him, and - having committed an act he knows is unforgivable - spirals out of control.

so no, i won’t say the dub butchers the entire storyline so much as choosing to handle aspects of it differently... but those choices aren’t always for the better, and i wish they just left a lot of this alone. the original context for these scenes are much more powerful & handle the characters & their dynamics more thoughtfully.

tl;dr: even if you have a soft spot for the tamers dub (which i do too, mostly for nostalgic reasons), try watching it in japanese at least once. it puts a lot of things into perspective & elaborates much more heavily on themes & ideas that the dub just skims over.

[argumate]

so I finally watched Dune (Villeneuve's) and it was entertaining, pretty much what I expected, I'm glad I watched it.

it has some good visuals, some decent actors, a dramatic score, possibly over-dramatic but that's appropriate.

the space scenes were excellent, cold and inhuman like 2001, vast geometric shapes moving in unnerving ways.

I liked the blocky solidity of the palaces, the theatrical effect of the empty spaces and the subtle decoration in the rooms.

that damn bull though -- they kept cutting back to it but what did it really signify? it represents the cruelty and capriciousness of the Old Duke, a trace of which should be visible in Duke Leto, but I don't think we see that at all in this film, perhaps it just represents another bold gamble taken and lost.

I imagined the fief on Caladan as being more like the Mediterranean, Aegean, or Indian Ocean in character, more suited to the Greco-Roman, Byzantine, and Persian influences that you imagine would describe the Atreides, but somehow it ended up more... Scottish?? the Atreides legions fight like a (distressingly undisciplined) hoplite phalanx but march out to bagpipes, maybe it's supposed to be an example of traditional Greek bagpipes, I don't know

at any rate the cliffs over the sea are dramatic and it's fun watching Paul stalk about dressed like a goth Victorian schoolboy as his father comfortingly tells him that he doesn't need to take on the burden of the family legacy if he doesn't want to (while the tombs of a dozen generations of his ancestors watch on in silent reproach)

I felt that the drama and pageantry of the introduction faltered a little when they reached the city of Arrakeen, which was a disappointing muddle of generic computer generated dusty metal that seemed very slapdash and poorly thought out compared to all the other settings, undermining the battle over it which was to come.

(and the battle was uninspiring, watching the feared Atreides legions run out in their pyjamas in disarray to face foes they didn't even notice were coming until after they arrived)

I'm quite familiar with the Dune books so it was interesting watching the movie and seeing how the sheer number of characters made it impossible to give many of them any meaningful characterisation or emotional development.

I was very pleased to see Chang Chen playing Doctor Yueh, but he is given no time to demonstrate his affection for Paul and Jessica nor the helpless compulsion that drives him to betray them, while Gurney and Duncan chew the scenery as best they can but can't quite convince you that they actually serve any purpose in the story (Paul's son is going to bring back a thousand clones of Aquaman?) and the Reverend Mother does a good job but has lost the nuances she had in the book ("I must have wanted you to fail").

"the Beast" Rabban portrayed by Dave Bautista (love that guy!) was one stand out I thought, mostly because this brute of a man comes across as nothing but a scared child next to his uncle, providing an excellent contrast for the nihilistic menace of the slug-like baron.

the baron is-- absurd of course, I mean he's even more absurd in the book, a corpulent flamboyant cackling caricature of a man, you could say this take is boringly toned down or you could say it's ludicrously over the top (he bathes in black sludge? seriously? you have to admire his commitment to the aesthetic, even if that's a Shrek move) but it's basically impossible to film a guy like this in a believable way and you just have to go for it.

the scene that sold the baron for me is when he's tucking into a solo banquet with his semi-conscious cousin Leto draped naked over a chair at the other side of the crazy long table, then when Yueh is brought in he activates his suspensors and silently rises into the air like a squid and drifts across the table towards us in a ghostly blur, all while the camera stays fixed on Leto's frozen rictus; the lack of focus echoes what Leto must be experiencing and is devastatingly effective.

the Fremen and Atreides and Harkonnen and Sardaukar have their own languages which is very cool (and Yueh speaks some Mandarin!) but why do the bad guys sound like they're using bad voice filters, they're being portrayed like literal orcs to the point that it begins to feel weird.

ornithopters are stupid but you have to admit these dragonfly contraptions do look pretty cool.

the worms get a lot of build up -- and I was surprised they preserved the harvester scene from the book almost verbatim, it felt like it consumed a lot of time -- but it's very satisfying when you finally see them rippling through the dune sea, it brings home the shifting danger of the desert sands in a way I wasn't expecting.

Paul has visions of the jihad but he never says the word "jihad".

splitting the movie in two is obviously necessary but the split is awkward, and it's really not helped by clunky lines like "this is only the beginning".

Chani gets a lot of vision time but what can you even say when you meet the teenager with whom you can precognitively remember several decades of future marriage?

still, bookending the movie with Chani is consistent with the book, that begins and ends with the women in Paul's life: Chani, Irulan, Jessica, something that always seemed like an interesting choice.

there is a lot more I would say about Dune but it would mostly be about the book rather than movie; this was a decent adaptation given the constraints of the medium, hopefully it won't be the last.

[alicelufenia]

musings on FFXVI story based on the demo (tl;dr not feeling so hype anymore)

So yeah obviously it's going to be a well written and competently made story that will make you feel many things. What I'm unhype about is, much like 14's story, it's looking to be very uncritical with the way it portrays women.

The first inkling of it was that interview where YoshiP answered a question about in-universe diversity by falling back on an appeal to "reality" as many Western fantasy authors do when they want to excuse why their fantasy worlds seem to always be populated by white people. So "mature fantasy" for this team already means borrowing some of the uglier sides of Western fantasy uncritically.

So it's no surprise that apparently the "narrative boundaries" demand a story where the very first female character we see uses sex appeal in a military negotiation, then has what I can only describe as "bad guy sex" in the hallway immediately after. Very empowering, much girlboss.

But okay, she's a villain and villain sexy. What about the other women so far?

Well, one's completely helpless and is MIA at the end of the demo (though apparently survives) and the other is the main villain of the first chapter, who tries to seduce the Extremely Based dad but is rebuked because her feminity exists in the story as a weapon, and at the end has both her (set dressing, non-character) hand maidens executed for shock value and to show how irredeemable she is, but in a Evil Noble Woman way.

I swear it is like the game is looking at you the player and giving you permission to shout "YOU BITCH" at the screen. Literally every stream I've watched you can predict when the chat will be full of that down to the second.

Also, no women in the Shields. Gee I wonder why. Will we see the in-universe sexism confronted at any point? Or is it just part of the western fantasy aesthetic? Who can say, time will tell.

But what it's telling me so far is that the writers see feminity in two shades. Weak and Helpless, or Manipulating [insert gendered slur here]. And I mean it when I say it's horribly gendered. Men are badass in a variety of ways--strength of arms, noble blood, royal authority, dying from Cool Explosions or dying on their feet weapons drawn. Women's options for power are so far, being nobles and wielding political power, or having to flee or get cut down unawares by random soldiers (can you tell I hate that scene?)

Even Beneditka is only a badass because she's a Dominant--y'know one of the singularly most powerful individuals in the setting--and throws the most embarrassing tantrum I've ever seen on screen after being defeated, and she is supposed to be a person in a position of command. Like you look me in the eye and tell me you could see ANY of the male characters acting that way, even if they're characterized as horribly unhinged?

So yeah, after an initial spike of excitement I think I'm gonna pass on XVI until much later, and hearing how the story and characters shake out. But I don't have faith in these writers when THIS was their tone setter.

tl;dr - more fantasy sexism, but a mature rating means they can be so much worse with it now. At least it plays well.

[abbysreverie]

Aftersun

What a way to make my life more depressing!

Haha jk.

This film !! Never fails to give me goosebumps everytime I recall the happy moments between Sophie and her dad. And when the ending came, I kinda got lost for a moment, I felt so empty and scared I wanted to cry so hard. I realized, aside from movies where an animal dies, I can never watch films that involve father and daughter/son relationship, like this one does. Yeah, I think this is gonna be the last time because I don’t know know when will I be ready for stuff like this again, or if I’m ever going to be ready at all.

Can’t tell that much about the plot/storyline except that it was really successful in capturing nostalgia and melancholia. This film is not about telling a story, it’s about the feeling you get everytime you revisit important memories from the past, it’s simply just an emotion heavy film. The memories of Sophie with her dad, Calum, during their vacation in Turkey just feel so warm to watch. There were bright and happy times, but there were also dark and helpless times—especially for Calum.

Right, now giving the spotlight to the actors because they were just SO good. The kid, Frankie Corio, aside from the fact that she’s such a pretty girl, I thought that she did really great in portraying her character, and the way she delivered her line? Very precise with the tone. Which is why I think she’s really cool for that. And of course, the Paul Mescal. I’ve seen him before from Normal People (and this reminds again me that I haven’t finished that one yet!), you would definitely see how versatile he is as an actor. Paul’s just really good at showing his emotions through his eyes. He doesn’t even have to try hard in acting, he’s effortlessly good at doing his job and I think he’s so cool for that too.

P.S. Since this is a film from the Great Britain, i already expected that the accent would be really strong on this one, especially the characters are coming from Scotland where the accent is just beautifully strong. So I made sure I watch with the subtitles on. I’m happy that I did and that the (illegal) site where I watched it have them too. Was able to clearly hear and understand what the people on that film were saying because listening to them speak without the subs feels like I’m having auditory dyslexia (jk just made that up but that’s really how I can best describe it). No offense scottish people!

REMINDER: Never be ashamed of watching an English-language film still with the subtitles on!

Finally—and I will never shut up about this category, the cinematography. I love it so much. It was realistic and very subtle at the same time. Turkey was also beautiful as it is. Color grading’s fantastic too, I love how bright and clear the colors are in this film. I just didn’t like the rave part where there were flashing lights. It hurt my eyes for real I had to look away from the screen everytime that scene showed up. Other than that, I really love the cinematic feel of it.

Final Verdict: 8/10

[existentialmagazine]

Review: Luna Keller embraces Chapter III of her upcoming album with new single ‘Patterns’, an auditory and visual exploration of self-destruction

The incredible Luna Keller hurtles into 2024 with the continuation of her crowd-funded new project and most personal album yet ‘Ocean Inside of Me’, an expression of intimate yet eclectic indie-folk, flowing with intricate detailing and warm fluctuation. After over three years of meticulous perfection, Luna bears to audiences a slice of art that excels all expectations of what an album could be, showing sound, lyrics and visuals alike to represent the most haunting of mental journeys that likely anyone can relate to in some way.

As Luna begins Chapter III of this project with a new single ‘Patterns’, she builds upon the worlds and stories of her previous two offerings ‘Ocean Inside of Me’ and ‘Invisible Walls’, poetically continuing the album’s narrative while all-together expressing the depth’s Luna’s multifaceted artistic talents. From the opening, darkened and slightly tense plucks of the lesser-commonly seen bowed instruments amidst ‘Patterns’, Luna’s careful instrumental craftsmanship sets the underlying tone to be one of unease and uncertainty even before her words can paint a more vivid scene. It’s not long before her confident vocals add to the experience either, soft but rising through the track’s ebbing highs and lows, all the while delivering some semblance of vague lyrical context that intends to leave just much of an open-ended interpretation as her soundscape for the listener as she sings ‘I’ve got blood on my hands, but no one seems to care. I’ve got all that I want, but I’m not aware.’ Through the hallucinatory guilt of bloody hands as well as her lack of consciousness or presence in reality (that’s portrayed just as much in her opening passed-out state through the video), ‘Patterns’ almost seems to begin with Luna searching for just as many answers and understanding as the listener.

An added enigma of both vibrancy and isolation all-in-one can be found in the echoey electric guitar strings that soon join in, establishing the track’s vast and lonely atmosphere but also providing a touch of transcending colour in ‘Patterns’ otherwise downbeat progression. The chorus brings out even more life from the verses’ intentional sullen roots, climbing through an even further increased orchestral combination of sounds and wind instruments. From trombone groans to the continued plucking of bowed instrument strings, ‘Patterns’ adds a sense of intensity and urgency, but Luna’s vocals rising and cascading higher range notes almost seem to have found peace or ignorance in the surrounding trepidation.

With nods to past singles like ‘Ocean Inside of Me’ in lines like ‘under the water, find it really hard to breathe’, the interconnected nature of this project cannot be overlooked either, maintaining throughout an intentional overarching plot that’s just as transformative as your favourite novel. Building on these entwined stories, Luna bridges from their weighted foundations with a new addition that’s just as integral, displaying a deep-rooted self-awareness as she watches herself live through a cycle of repeated self-destruction. Feeling completely helpless and unable to break free, the bridge’s stand-out line ‘this is not who I want to be, yet it lives inside of me’ carries her internal torment and double-edged words, initially penned as a guilty admission soaked in a self-hatred before becoming an empowering truth that though she has her darker edges, her strength is a guiding light that will never allow her to be defined as anything lesser.

The video for ‘Patterns’ is just as formative for this haunting storytelling, alike the past two chapters creating visual metaphors for the unfolding words through creatively apt imagery. From a maze with edges lined only by shallow stones, indicating that Luna is the one keeping herself trapped between lines that can be easily crossed; to her passed-out body wheeled through the lands by men that are perhaps visualisations of her inner demons, ‘Patterns’ leaves you always thinking-deeper and finding your own meaning in Luna’s truth.

Check out ‘Patterns’ for yourself here to mentally and visually explore the crafted worlds of Luna Keller’s mind and soul.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[nutty1005]

The new and starstudded “A Dream Like A Dream”, is the starting point, not the ending point, of Xiao Zhans

Original Article: https://m.thepaper.cn/newsDetail_forward_12542131 Original Author: 程辉剧场手记 The author published this in Pengpai News and shared on his Weibo Post on 6 May 2021.

Andante Cantabile, my most beloved music by Tchaikovsky, came from his String Quartet No. 1 in D major, every time it would painfully touch my heart, poet Xi Murong also used this to caption a melancholic poem. I thought, using it to sum up Lai Shengchuan’s representative work, “A Dream Like A Dream”, would be most apt.

“A Dream Like A Dream” lasts for 8 hours, this is something rare in Chinese theaters. Using the doctor as the first person, Patient No. 5 recalled and narrated in his narration, a surreal stage arrangement, emotions, life, fate, culture and societal upheaval, bringing tears to fog up your eyes. After 9 years of continued changes in the crew, Yanghua Theater brought in a new version with actors such as Xu Qing, Feng Xianzhen, Ge Xinyi, Xiao Zhan, Yan Nan, Zhang Liang, Huang Lu, Kong Wei, etc. The new version rivaled the quality of its predecessors, but yet bestowed a new presentation and expression.

A unique city was the backdrop for its first showing and the chance fate of the characters within the play allowed us to truly understand the nature of impermanence. In the play, there was an important term called “self-exchange”, which was said to come from an ancient practice from South Asia, by “breathing” with the others, so as to gift health and happiness, and remove his pain and misfortune. “A Dream Like A Dream” was a play that spoke of the search for the meaning of life, did it also deliberately “self-exchange” with the audience then? Once we understood the concept of “self-exchange”, we could also see that it was also a request to communicate with the reserved hearts of the contemporary person.

The fates of Gu Xianglan and Patient No. 5 were the two main timelines in “A Dream Like A Dream”, and the other timelines served to supplement or trigger the former. Patient No. 5’s motive came from “searching”, Gu Xianglan’s came from “chasing”. The chaser is the key to enlightening the searcher, the searcher became the resolution for the chaser, although they had different obsessions in their lives, they both came together in the end. Gu Xianglan’s deathbed confession to Patient No. 5 was not simply just an apology in her dazed state, but also her most unforgettable, wonderful and romantic memories of love; Patient No. 5, with his concern, consideration and inquiries, was like the listener from heaven, the guiding light to aid the soul in letting go of her regrets.

The 2021 Yanghua version of “A Dream Like A Dream” maintained its previous feature of multiple actors to one role, and multiple roles to one actor. Xu Qing, Feng Xianzhen, Ge Xinyi acted as after going abroad, old age and before going abroad versions of Gu Xianglan respectively. From the “peerless beauty” socialite of the brothels in Shanghai Beach, to the Baroness of a French Ambassador, to an artist, then to a maid, a sweeper of roads and alleys, to the lonely elderly in the hospital, she went through indescribable ups and downs.

Xu Qing had acted as Gu Xianglan since the play’s debut, and in the new version, her portrayal had already been exquisitely refined, the Gu Xianglan in her prime is lovely and graceful, but yet proud and wild, sensitive and emotional, as though Gu Xianglan’s soul had fully occupied her body. In addition to the true to form portrayal of the amorous nature of Gu Xianglan, her performance was exceptionally focused on the details of the silent scenes. When she and Xiao Zhan’s Patient No. 5 gazed at each other, when teary eyes met with clear eyes; from afar it seemed like she was looking at her younger self about to go onto a journey of no return, the resigned helplessness and the restless hope looked at each other; when realizing that the lost Baron had once returned, her astonished and sharp glares of anger; when Wang Debao found the tiny loft she stayed in by chance, her stealing glances were surprised and flustered… They were all full of the character’s aura and emotional tension, and the pain took the audiences by their hearts.

Senior actress Feng Xianzhen’s portrayal of the elderly version of Gu Xianglan was quite different from the version by the previous actress Lu Yan, which allowed the audiences to experience the wonder of plays due to different characterization. Lu Yan’s version was one that remained elegant and proud despite her tribulations, there was more calm and temperance, which would make the audiences respect the tenacity of this legendary lady. Feng Xianzhen’s version was a Gu Xianglan who went to France from Shanghai, and back to Shanghai from France, twice she found freedom and twice she fell. The cruelty of fate had ripped away all of the pretentiousness, the charm of her past had been lost, she was like every ordinary person. She would scheme cigarettes from strangers, curse as she liked with phrases such as “bastard”, “no good-doers in Taiwan”, mock those relatives who came to look after her as those who came for their inheritance. She fully portrayed the effects of her unfortunate life and her bitterness at the world, which made the audiences sigh in sadness.

Facing these two powerful actresses in portraying the same role, Ge Xinyi as the young Gu Xianglan, had a lot of pressure. Her performance was more inclined to a lonely beauty, the purity despite her circumstances, so as to provide a solid motive for the Baron and Wang Debao’s unrestrained infatuation. As a newcomer to the theater, her steady control was not an easy task, and should be praised for it. If she would be more open, layered and flavorful in her portrayal, the characterization would be better. After all, Gu Xianglan was the top courtesan within the midst of love and affairs, and the quiet and calm of a learned lady would be quite different from that.

Patient No. 5 was a journeyman of life. In the beginning, he suffered painful setbacks from the death of his child and the loss of his wife, and started a self-exiled wanderlust. His marriage came by mistake, almost like a replacement for his wife’s frustrating relationship. Fate caused him to lose his spirit, but he was unwilling to give up, hence he wanted to search for his wife, as though he wanted to search for himself. His encounter with Jiang Hong, was the wanderers’ sympathy for each other and to rely on each other. Only when he walked into the French castle and saw the tranquil and woeful eyes of Gu Xianglan, he seemed to see himself at the far coast of the lake, the cumulative rage and sorrow in both their hearts, their collective unwillingness to concede suddenly exploded, and he decisively dropped everything to find the lady in the painting. He did not know what question was ignited then, but he started his search for the dream of life.

In terms of the control of this character, Xiao Zhan and Yan Nan definitely put in a lot of efforts, they were highly immersive. What was even more rare was that, although their performances had different focuses, but they were both very united in terms of aura, body language, speech, pace and habitual actions, as though the two actors in the same stage were truly one character. For such a complete creation, you need not only tacit understanding.

Xiao Zhan’s performance exceeded my expectations. Despite it being his debut in a play, his performance was not even the least bit disjointed, and he was even able to merge his own personality characteristics with the role itself. His actions, pace and emotions gave a smooth interplay between tension and relaxation. The portrayal of innocent, naive, youthful, kind and fragile Patient No. 5, his unpreparedness in matters of love, was especially suitable as a youth who just joined society. It made the random encounter in the cinemas as the prelude of love more believable, and also gave a firm foundation to his actions later on, the multiple setbacks in later on, his wanderings, and his endless searching. With his wife and Jiang Hong, he had different relationships, the former was a budding first love, the latter came from empathy, Xiao Zhan had slightly different portrayal for the different phases of space and time, the cycle from simple to confusion, from searching to questioning, there was careful understanding and detailed handling. After discovering Gu Xianglan’s tracks, the clear longing that Xiao Zhan gave off collided with the layered longing from Xu Qing after her tribulations, was like the undercurrents under a calm lake, it drew in the rousing emotions, and became the strong force that pushed the story forward.

Xiao Zhan has the ability and the reason to achieve much better results in future theater stages. With time, if he could become even more at ease with the control of his body, if he could be even more accurate during the changes of character condition, I trust that he could achieve another breakthrough, and create even more challenging characters.

Reprising Patient No. 5 after many years, Yan Nan was obviously even more in-depth with his understanding of the script and character, and gifted the character a melancholy aura similar to those of an ancient poet, the quiet tones and deep glances became the key feature. The sense of accumulation of the vicissitudes, merged with Xiao Zhan’s portrayal, realized the continuation of the character’s fate. His performance on the hospital bed contrasted with Gu Xianglan on her hospital bed in a different time, and manifested Patient No. 5’s enlightenment after his miles of wandering, the person on the bed is awake, but those not were instead still dreaming. His calmness held the strings of every timeline together.

Zhang Liang’s portrayal of the Baron was the surprise of the show. If the old version’s Baron and Gu Xianglan was like the contest between eagle and the wild pigeon, the huge difference in power created the tragedy that made the audiences sad. The 2021 Yanghua version’s Baron and Gu Xianglan was like a pair of heavenly cranes, but they sang different notes as they flew to each other, and became a pair of lovebirds who hurt each other as they fell. The Baron became more romantic, more gentle and loving, but he remained prideful as he was still a noble beneath that amicable exterior, this was Zhang Liang’s new expression to the character, this also elevated Gu Xianglan’s difficulty in her choice, and even more so contrasted Gu Xianglan’s “evil” in her woeful revenge, and also left a branching point to the remaining love. His love for Gu Xianglan was true, it was not possession, but he loved the Oriental beauty, the caged Gu Xianglan, not the wild and free Gu Xianglan. Letting go and abandoning was his hopelessness for his lover, he felt that Gu Xianglan was letting herself go, she was betraying and depraving her beauty, he felt that his efforts were painfully wasted, it was not an attack on an escaped prey. This kind of portrayal made us wonder – love, was it to love a person, or was it to love an ideal? Love was to give or to receive? Was the ultimate goal of giving receiving?

The tragedy between Baron and Gu Xianglan became a tragedy of conflict between culture, social status and ideals. The difference between Baron and Gu Xianglan, did not merely exist on levels of culture and artistic ideals, but it was down to different life goals due to different cultural influences. It was hard for Baron to understand that his love only moved Gu Xianglan from a smaller cage to another bigger cage, even if he loved her deeply; Gu Xianglan who struggled for survival in a twisted environment, simply wanted to escape her cage, even if it meant poverty. This type of tragedy could not simply be explained with the character’s personality. The energy from repeated characterization is evident.

Huang Lu as Jiang Hong was a character that was rather difficult to grasp in “A Dream Like A Dream”. In her portrayal, Jiang Hong was an ordinary girl, who went through multiple troubles but was always chosen, besides her strong sense of survival, I almost could not see more personality. I remembered that I had brief flashes of a parallel universe while cooking eggs one morning, that was the state that she could not find herself or her position in life. She claimed herself as “the original Jiang Hong was dead, the Jiang Hong who arrived in Paris never existed” wanderer, her “relationship” with Patient No. 5 was merely a chance encounter in life, both of them were scared and questioning whether they should “fall into another relationship”. Huang Lu’s performance was very restrained, controlled, and tried hard to make herself not stand out, to do it to this extent was quite difficult. When she was talking about her stowaway escape, there was a point for emotional explosion, but yet she had to control it within the fine line between “surviving the calamity” and “unable to calm herself”. For this actress who was nominated multiple times for international awards and also won a national acting award, this was a rare stage experience.

Kong Wei, who just took off her costume in “Thunder Rain”, portrayed Shi Li Hong, the Mama-san of “Fairy Court”, in “A Dream Like A Dream”. Scheming and cunning in worldly matters, but yet she maintained her own sense of righteousness with Gu Xianglan and her sisters, fleshed out the character with even more emotions. Especially when the drunk professor professed his love for her, her teasing and forced calmness was mixed with surprise and shyness, as every emotion came at the same time, she managed them with ease, not only was the set brightly colored, there was also the sudden exposure of the character’s personality. Wang Peiyu who acted as the young Wang Debao, also showed the character’s clumsiness and stubbornness, his portrayal of passionate love was on point, which was just as brilliant.

There were many characters in “A Dream Like A Dream”, the group’s shared brilliance could not be forgotten, many actors who acted as multiple roles displayed exceeding energy. This came down to the Yanghua creativity production team, lead by Art Director Wang Keran, who had astute senses in actor selection as well as careful detailing in every part of the creation.

Luo Yongjuan, who portrayed a puppet in “Jewish City” and Li Zonglei, who had many important roles in many dramas and plays, both portrayed over 10 characters, and outstandingly completed the character creation for all of these different roles. Ruan Li, who portrayed the cousin, the dancer, the child, etc, also contributed multiple talents. Wang Weiqian, who portrayed Aunt Jin, the tourist, etc; Sun Zhongyi, who portrayed the professor, the old servant, etc, they all left deep impressions.

To display the characters but not to display themselves, this was the forefront of all theater actors, this was done by Xu Qing and Xiao Zhan, Zhang Liang and other stars, this was the respect they gave the play, the stage, the audience and themselves.

When the first kissing scene appeared for Xiao Zhan, part of the audiences were controlled but there were still some excessive “fan” reactions, but this did not interrupt his performance pace, this reminded me that Xu Qing and Hu Ge version also had the same situation many years ago. We could see that the actors were immersed, they prepared mental homework for every segment and detail, this was the hard work and the goal of both the production and the actors. Putting in efforts into acting and solely seeking the effects of celebrity, these are two totally different things after all.

When rehearsing or refreshing old classic plays, most of the time, methods such as subversion, recreation or simple replay were used. 2021 Yanghua’s version of “A Dream Like A Dream” is a case of production relying on the new cast to continuously discover deeper understandings, to recreate, and then to give audience a new icing on the cake while ensuring the quality of the play.

I was interviewed after the debut showing and said that this play was the Xiao Zhan’s starting point and not his ending point, and I also hoped that more capable actors would come to the theater stage, focus on the creation of art, and from that we could forge our own generation of quality “full celebrities”, such as Jin Shan, Shi Hui, Bai Yang, Zhang Ruifang, Shu Xiuwen, Laurence Olivier, Marlon Brando, Vivien Leigh, etc, of China. On the international theatrical stage, this is just commonplace.

[vampiregirl1797]

Being in Love & Working at the BAU

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

GIF Not Mine.

Click Here For Masterlist.

Word Count: 2,817

Warnings: none that I can think of.

Summary: Y/N realised she was in love with the boy genius of the BAU about six months ago, and she’s been working hard at keeping it under wraps since. Problem? She works with profilers.

When JJ began dating Will it had been obvious to the team from the get go, though the blonde believed she’d done a wonderful job at keeping it from us. At that point, I’d sworn to refrain from hiding anything from the team, because chances are they knew before I worked up the courage to tell them, and also I hated keeping secrets from those I loved.

However, from the moment I realised that I was developing feelings that most definitely were not platonic for a certain member of the team, I found myself taking back my original vow and amending it to the following: be honest about everything but this. And it was difficult. I was constantly monitoring my expressions, my body language and my words whenever I was around him. It was exhausting and stressful, but on the plus side I was almost certain the rest of the team had no idea what was going on. 

I blinked, bringing myself back to the present, seeing as I was at work, focus was key. Though to be fair, almost all of the team had retired to their hotel rooms at that point, so I wouldn’t actually be penalised for getting lost in my thoughts for a minute or two. My eyes flickered over the clear board covered with pictures from the three different crime scenes, and individual pictures of each victim. I always wondered what they were thinking in those photos, they always looked happy and it seemed almost wrong that their happiness had to be in the same vicinity as the gruesome images that portrayed their murder. 

With a sigh, I grabbed my now empty coffee cup and headed over to the small kitchenette in the station. My gaze fell onto Spencer as I filled my mug and I found myself reaching for a new one to pour him a beverage without even thinking about it.

‘Hey Spence,’ I murmured, my voice soft to avoid startling him too badly as I gently placed his steaming hot beverage in front of him.

‘Hey.’ He returned my smile, his brown eyes shining with exhaustion and warmth, ‘what are you still doing here?’

‘Oh, I—.’ I broke off with a sigh, the genuine concern in his eyes made it impossible to lie to him, especially when it was obvious he already knew the truth, ‘I couldn’t bring myself to leave.’ My eyes fell on the clear board again, and lingered on the happy smiling images before I forced myself to look into the warm and comforting eyes of Dr. Reid, ‘I knew if I did I wouldn’t sleep anyway, so I guess I just didn’t see the point.’

‘I understand.’ His eyes fell to the mug he was now holding between his hands as he spoke, and then lifted to meet mine when he was finished. I felt my heart skip a beat in response, as it always did when his beautiful oak eyes were focused on me.

‘We’re quite the pair, huh?’ I chuckled, running a hand through my hair and fighting back the yawn that wanted to escape my throat, ‘how have you been sleeping?’

I saw how hard he fought to keep the exhaustion from his expression before he admitted defeat and let me see it.

‘Spence,’ I murmured, my hand reaching out and grasping his left one. He removed it from his cup and turned it over so that our hands were linked together, ‘is there anything I can do?’

He’d confided a few months ago that he’d been having really awful, vivid nightmares that kept waking him up throughout the night. Eventually, he avoided sleep all together out of fear of what his unconscious mind was waiting to torture him with. I’d offered some tips that had helped me when I’d gone through the same thing: camomile tea, warm baths with lavender oils and playing a soothing playlist to fall asleep to. Since then he’d been sleeping better, but I’d noticed the familiar dark circles starting to form underneath his eyes again.

‘I do have an idea, but if it would make you uncomfortable then I understand.’ He said, biting his lip and subconsciously holding my hand tighter.

‘Okay, what is it?’ Unable to be unaffected by the anxiety that was practically pouring out of him.

‘I read a study that found those who slept in the same bed as their partner reported a higher quality of sleep and no nightmares.’ He spoke so softly that I had to strain to hear him, and when I did, I had to take a minute to process what he’d suggested.

He wanted me to sleep in the same bed as him. I felt different emotions start to I whirl inside of me, each generating a different answer. The anxiety told me that it absolutely was not a good idea. I already had romantic feelings for Spencer, what if doing this made it all the more complicated and more difficult to hide? Another part of me was determined and demanded that I took the opportunity to comfort him, because I loved him and how was I supposed to turn him away when he needed me to help him? But when I looked over to Spencer’s expression I felt the inner turmoil inside my mind fade away—he looked tired, vulnerable and hopeful. All I felt then was a strong desire to help him get a good nights rest and hopefully keep the nightmares at bay. I couldn’t be selfish with him, and if he needed me I was going to help him, even if it meant me being exposed to the feelings I’d been trying to suppress for months now.

‘Okay, but I warn you— I’ve been told I cuddle in my sleep.’ I said, keeping my tone light to diffuse the tension that had formed between us.

He chuckled, the sound was wonderful and I found myself joining him with ease as we both stood to head back to the hotel. According to the clock in the station it was ten thirty, so hopefully we’d get at least eight hours of sleep. As we made our way to the elevator, I wondered how much one night could alter a dynamic between two people.

//

I woke to the sound of my phone ringing, emitting Garcia’s personalised ringtone—‘Baby girl’ by Bryce Vine. My hand went to reach for it, but I stopped short when I realised I couldn’t move. Before I had the chance to panic, Spencer’s familiar scent invaded my nostrils; I could smell the mint smell of his shampoo, the faint remnants of his woodsy cologne and the vanilla from the hand lotion he’d borrowed before bed. He was spooning me from behind and I was helpless to stop myself from melting further into his warmth and turning my head to further take in his comforting scent. I was just on the precipice of falling back into the most peaceful sleep I’d had for years when the phone started to ring again. 

Spencer stirred this time and grabbed it, groggily promising that he’d be in soon before hanging up and tossing his phone onto the carpeted floor.

‘Was that Garcia?’ I asked, clearing my throat in an attempt to remove the sleep from my voice.

‘Yeah, they have a lead and want us in as soon as possible.’ He sighed, his grip not loosening from around my waist, ‘that was the best nights sleep I’ve had in... god I can’t even remember.’

‘It was for me too.’ I admitted softly, fighting the emotions waging a war inside my head.

I was insanely comfortable in his arms, as if I belonged there... as if I was home. But I was sure to remind myself that the feeling was one-sided—Reid didn’t feel that way about me, and why would he? I was his colleague and a friend they trusted enough to confide in about his sleeplessness. Now was not the time to get lost in my own feelings, this had been about him and I refused to allow myself to get lost in my own head.

‘We should get going.’ I murmured, reluctantly easing from his grip and heading for the bathroom to get dressed. 

By the time I emerged, Spencer was gone and I tried to ignore the way that made my stomach drop to my feet. I sent a thumbs up to the text he sent me:

Headed to the station, I’ll see you there. Thanks again for last night. Spencer.

When I arrived at the station I headed straight for the coffee before joining the others at the rectangular table in the conference room. I noticed Emily’s surprised look when she noticed I hadn’t bought a mug for Spencer but I ignored it, unwilling to focus on how I was feeling. Right now I had a job to do, there was no time to deal with the rejection and abandonment coursing through my veins. 

‘Garcia found a link, each victim was registered to a chat room discussing different fantasy novels.’ Hotch announced from where he was stood at the head of the table, his head down as he flicked through one of the case files.

‘And each agreed to a face to face meeting the night before their death with someone by the username Red Youn. I tried tracking the IP address but he’s a smart cookie and re-routed through about a million different servers.’ Garcia revealed from the speaker in the centre of the table.

‘Red Youn is an anagram for your end.’ I thought aloud, ignoring a certain pair of eyes I could feel boring into the side of my head, ‘what if he sees himself as the antagonist in his own version of a fantasy novel?’

‘That would explain the similarities in victimology.’ Morgan commented, talking about their almost identical appearances. 

‘But how would he know that before meeting them?’ My lips pursed, ‘were any of the women in contact with anyone new before they died?’

‘Ahh, sugar you always ask the best questions.’ Garcia praised, ‘yes all three women spoke to a man with the same number on the days leading up to their death. This included sending photographs and discussing their favourite villains in different fantasy novels. I’m sending you the name and address of the person this number is registered to.’

‘Garcia you are wonderful.’ I said, a genuine smile forming on my lips, it was small but it was the first sign of happiness I’d shown since I’d left my hotel room this morning.

‘Aw, tell me something I don’t know.’ She teased before she hung up and we all geared up and headed for the unsub’s residence. 

We had a suspect to arrest.

//

We’d managed to apprehend Jacob Kerwoski successfully and we’d all decided to celebrate with a meal prepared by Rossi at his humble abode. After we’d finished the food we all separated off for different activities— Derek had challenged Garcia to a game of darts, Rossi and Hotch were talking in the library and sharing stories of past cases, Emily and JJ were sat outside each holding a glass of wine and whispering about something they had to keep their voices low for. Reid and I were sat in the living room, I was personally too full to move so I was slowly sinking further and further into the soft cushions around me.

I was grateful that my stomach felt like it was exploding, it provided a distraction from the elephant in the room. I hadn’t directly spoken to Reid since this morning and I didn’t know how to break the awkwardness that existed between us now. I knew it was partly due to my inability to hide my rejection this morning after I’d returned to an empty room once I’d dressed. But it wasn’t his fault that I’d taken it so personally due to my romantic feelings for him. 

‘Reid?’ My voice was soft and tentative.

‘Y-yeah?’ He stuttered, surprised that I’d broken the silence in the room.

‘I’m sorry how I’ve been acting around you today. I just wanted you to know that it’s nothing to do with you, it’s my own issues that I need to deal with.’

He was silent for a long moment after I spoke, his eyes just staring into mine as if he were debating whether or not he should say something. It was a look I was used to seeing on his face— Spence often had thoughts, facts and information swimming around in his head and he had to filter himself. But his next words took me by surprise and had my heart beating out of my chest.

‘I know how you feel about me, Y/N.’ His voice was soft that I questioned if I’d heard him correctly, but the serious expression on his face assured me that I had.

‘H-how do I feel about you Spence?’ I asked, nervously clearing my throat.

‘For the first few years of us knowing each other, you cared for me as a friend, but that changed about six months ago. I don’t know why, and nothing obvious changed in your behaviour. You still bring me coffee, still hug me when I need it, still offer to help me with anything and everything when I need someone to rely on. But the way you look at me now, it’s... softer and warmer. You didn’t used to look at me that way before.’ He said, his voice slower than it usually was when he explained something, his calmness made my heart stutter in my chest.

‘The way you look at me now, it’s the same way that JJ and Will look at each other, except more intense.’ He scooted closer to me on the sofa, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, ‘I noticed it because I’ve been looking at you the same way for the past year.’

I blinked and my mouth fell open as my brain short circuited with the new information. Spencer had been looking at me the same way— how had I never noticed that before? I’d been so concentrated on not revealing my feelings— that I’d apparently sucked at doing— that I hadn’t noticed a change in Spence’s behaviour like he had in mine. I’d say I was a terrible profiler but I knew that I never would have noticed regardless of anything else, because I’d always believed he deserved better than me.

‘Y-you love me?’ I breathed, the emotion in my voice rendering me incapable of speaking higher than a whisper.

‘I do.’ His smile was soft, his eyes sparkled with an affectionate warmth that simultaneously made my heart melt, and breath catch in my throat.

I’m not sure who moved forward first, or if we both moved at the same time, but the next thing my mind registered was his lips moving agains mine. It started out tentative, but as Spencer’s hand slid in my hair and pulled me even closer to his chest, the kiss deepened. My hands went to his shoulders and slid up to his scalp to curl into his tousled hair. I felt him moan into my mouth when I gently tugged on the strands, and when he started to guide me to lay back onto the sofa I went willingly, pulling him along with me. 

It was hard not to get too lost in the kiss, or to take it further than we should, because finally being with him just felt so right and natural. But eventually we pulled away, reminded that we were at risk of someone walking in on us when Garcia and Derek started cheering in the other room.

‘That was...’ I trailed off, my brain still too lost from the electricity of the kiss, ‘wow.’

‘I-I ugh couldn’t agree more.’ Spencer murmured, his hand sliding from my hair so that he could wind his arm around my shoulders. 

As I melted into his side, we chatted quietly for the rest of the night, our voices no higher than a whisper as it wasn’t necessary and it allowed us to revel in our own little bubble. It was much later, when we were both on the cusp of sleep that I nuzzled my face into the side of his neck and murmured the words I’d been holding back for six months now.

‘I love you Spence.’ My eyes fluttered closed and just before I fell into unconsciousness, I heard my genius return the sentiment.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face and a heart overflowing with pure happiness.

A/N: As you can probably guess I’m still watching criminal minds, and finding myself wishing a man like Spencer Reid existed in real life. I hope you enjoyed this one-shot!

[fancyfade]

Well I got super impatient and decided to post a day early. If you do click on and read CW: Child abuse. The tone isn’t like depressing the whole way through, I’m not interested in pointless grief, but it starts pretty heavy

For the preview have this bit I am glad I got an excuse to use finally (wrote it before this fanfic had to find a place to work it in I think it works really well here)

Father and all his people always found the most stifling, condescending, worst possible way to think about Damian. They wanted to protect him, but only half the time – only if they could imagine him as a sad, tiny child, helpless and afraid. They didn't know what to do with the other half – they didn't know what to do with him when he was fighting or behaving unacceptably or being always too too much. They couldn't decide whether they see him as a victim or a villain, and while neither would be ideal, he'd prefer the latter. A villain has power and agency, and he can't help but thinking of a victim as someone who's been stripped of both.

keep reading

Writing decisions (These will be LONG AS FUCK)

So there are two major moments from the 2009 B&R run I wanted in my fic at least that happen in the same plotline. I'm breaking it into two moments in different plotlines for the below reasons:

The first moment is when Damian both explicitly rejects Talia's offer to go back to being an assassin and chooses to stay being Robin

and then after the dumb slade part of that plot, there's the second moment, where he asks Talia to love him as he is, not as she wants him to be.

I feel the important things here are Damian explicitly rejecting being a supervillain and then Damian wishing he could be treated different by one of his parents (his primary caregiver up until he was 10 years old here in my verse, but in new earth canon she did not meet him until he was 9). Since Morrison, obviously Talia was the one Damian would both reject for supervillainry and ask for parental approval of, but I'm obviously having Ra's represent the more supervillainy side of things here.

This is also important why Damian knows that the letter was a lie before this plot could happen, because when he rejects Ra's he's doing it 100 percent with the knowledge that his dad didn't want him (from his POV) and he doesn't have another patriarchal figure of approval. He's just rejecting Ra's because Ra's is cruel to him and wrong, not because he has a better option waiting.

The other important moment in canon (Damian expressing dissatisfaction with how he is treated by Talia) will obviously have to change significantly in my fic but I do want him to have some type of interaction with her where he explains how he wants ot be treated

For canon basis of Damian and Ra's' interactions:

We have pretty scant Damian and Ra's interactions in canon mostly what I can think of are sort of Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul, the flashbacks in Teen Titans Rebirth (first six issues), and the weird Shadow/Batman comic.

The consistent theme seems to be that Damian exists for Ra's, not as a person. In RRAG Ra's refers to Damian as “it” and is surprised/offended that he does not immediately acquiesce to being a backup body, in Teen Titan's flashbacks Damian's oath is “I am yours” - that he belongs to his grandfather – and ra's calls him the greatest weapon in his arsenal or smthing, and in shadow/batman ra's continuously tries to impress upon damian that damian only exists because ra's allows him to/ at ra's' mercy.

(Yes the “ You're recalcitrant. Emotional.” dialogue is straight from Batman Bad Blood Talia, but when Talia is being villain balled she often comes across as woman-scorned version of Ra's so I don't feel bad stealing it and giving him that dialogue)

Anyway so needless to say its toxic as hell.

Ra's is also portrayed as generally using his family for his own means/ being very controlling/possessive – like in Batman Chronicles #8 he thinks (in his internal monologue) that he will never allow Talia to be free and that he needs her especially to continue his lineage and not be alone. He also kidnaps her when she leaves him in the early 2ks plot after tower of babel.

Miscellaneous decisions not based on those interactions:

the guard was based off of the dude who Ravi called the hand of ra's in robin: son of batman. I assumed they might have slightly different dynamics with Tali and Damian than the other leaguers because they call Talia by her first name, which seemed to not be what the other leaguers did. I'll be real they don't flesh out the league members who don't have names a ton, I had to do a lot of guessing.

I feel like even though Damian's upbringing in the League of Shadows was abusive as hell, he'd still miss where he grew up, especially the parts that were just like... day to day stuff and not fighting (Granted he still did obviously miss some of the way they did fighting interactions too).

I actually googled some geography to try to describe the place the Cradle was in because in the comics I don't think they gave us a location (besides that the last city they were at was Baghdad) and then the scenery did not give us much detail. I wanted to be able to describe the scenery a bit and not just say “um, it looked like a desert” (it looked... vaguely deserty in the comics?) especially since it would be significant to Damian. And I didn't want to just go with whatever preconceived notions I had.

I had Ra's make the fetus that may eventually become heretic here because I feel like if we're going with the RRAG backup body theme that might be a reasonable justification for Ra's cloning him (it was so unclear what Talia's motives for making Heretic were in the comic)

anyway SUPER Long but i'm really proud of this scene and Damian's confrontation with Ra's so I hope you all enjoyed it

[we-always-hit-our-ass]

Right Here (Richard Winters x Reader)

Requested by @easy-company-tradition​: “... could you please do dick winters comforting the reader during a panic attack?...”

Author’s Note: Oh gosh, I’ve never actually written anything like this before. I tried to do as much research as I could so I can portray this in an accurate manner. These are very serious, and if I got anything wrong, please feel free to correct me. I apologize for any inaccurate portrayals of panic attacks in this fic.

Words: 2.7k (a bit longer than i anticipated,,,)

BIG FAT WARNING FOR THIS ONE: Panic attacks. If they make you uncomfortable or you don’t want to read a description about how they feel, please please don’t read this! I suggest steppin’ away from this fic if these sorts of things make you upset, I’m incredibly sorry. So panic attack under the cut, please heed my warnings.

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Taglist: @deldontplay​, @thatsonefishyboi​,@noneofurbusinez​, @meteora-fc​, @gutsandgloryhere​, @hihosilvers​, @rayleighshughes​, @floydtab​, @wexhappyxfew​, @sherlollydramoine​, @meganthesunflower​, @3milesup​, @jamie506101​, @sunflowerchuck​, @softlieb​, @k-websters​, @punkgeekchic​, @speirs-crazy-ass​, @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant​, @runtdrummer​, @fromtheoldtimes​​, @liebegott​

+hello hello, you can totally ask me if ya want to be added!

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Laying on the cushioned sofa, your fingers traced over the yellowed papers of the novel you were reading. It was one of the books that David had recommended you during the war--so when you had returned, you were sent in a rush to find it in any bookstore you could find.

Flicking over the inked words on the flimsy paper, you hummed a random tune as to not make the house as empty as it currently was. The record playing let out a quiet sort of ambience, lulling you to a daze. The book slammed shut, your slipper ladened feet pressing against the hardware floor.

But that was just a couple minutes ago.

It all happened so fast, your body feeling cumbersome as your knees buckled under you. You fell with a thud, the dull pain of your tailbone outshadowed from the sharp pain in your head. So you didn’t know how you found yourself here, your back resting on the wooden cupboards in the kitchen, the handle pressing uncomfortably on the nape of your neck.

You didn’t know when you started bawling your eyes out, the cool tears drying on your cheeks. The stream trailing down your neck, staining the crisp shirt you wore.

Just all the sudden, it hit you--this overwhelming feeling of dread and immediately you wanted it to stop. Everything was just so blurry so you opted to keep your eyes shut, but it did nothing to help with the flashes of horrific scenes from war from flashing in your mind.

Heavy and broken heaves stuttered from your lips, and they wouldn’t stop--no matter how many times you tried to regulate your breathing. Laborious and tense, your chest fell up and down drastically and sometimes a bit staggering. You were quivering so much and your deft fingers didn’t feel like yours. At this moment you felt like you were feeling nothing and everything at once.

Sweat pooled swiftly on your brow, and your hands fell clumsily to wipe it off but to no avail. The air was so muggy and thick, you despised it. You felt so helpless, trapped in the corner of your own kitchen. The slippers which cushioned your feet were long gone, as you had kicked them off in an attempt to stop the writhing and pricking feeling on your legs.

It felt as if about a thousand invisible hands had a tight grip on your throat, blocking your airways as you struggled to even inhale a single bit of oxygen. Light-headed, you feel your whole brain shutting down. And even as you could feel it go blank, the intense feeling shooting throughout your whole being.

It repeated for so long and when you finally thought it had stopped, it comes just as quickly as it leaves. Wave after wave after wave, you felt so drained out of energy. Even with your throat parched as a desert, you still had no desire to get yourself a glass of water.

The pads of your fingertips grow weary from rubbing circles into the temples of your head, your hair a bit messy from running your hands through them so many times. Then at times you would feel like you were in the Sahara, hot flashes bursting randomly here and there.

Your sternum and torso ached and burned so much, and you could almost feel every instance of your wind and chest pipe closing up. Your eyes became sore from releasing too much tears, puffing up the longer you sat idle on the tiled floor. Let this end please, you knew you couldn’t take anymore of this.

Sooner or later the bright, fluorescent hue of the kitchen light grew unbearable, and you turned your head to sink deeper into your shoulder. Whimpers and incomplete and occasionally incoherent sentences left your dried lips and tongue. Running out of tears, silent sobs wracked throughout your body.

Even if it seemed like hours before this happened, it had only been a mere 20 minutes. These events further cemented into your train of thought. And so if you tried to shake them off, it’d only do more harm than good and right then and there the pain only seemed to become more amplified.

Disoriented in your own whirlpool of thoughts and flashing images, you were oblivious to the sound of the front door opening and the voice of the amber head of hair which peeked through your field of vision. Not realizing the echoed voice of your husband, you ignored it--thinking it to be fake and not at all actually happening.

Immediately when Richard received no response from you, his mind went to overdrive. His sapphire eyes blown wide out of proportion, his usually leveled voice grew a bit louder, hoping to catch your attention from wherever you were. Steady and slow-paced footsteps filled the air, and as he approached the kitchen, a small gasp left his mouth. His tall frame easily looked over the marble island in the center of the kitchen. There his eyes laid on your curled form, still hunched over in a fetus position.

Rushing over to your being at the speed of light, he lowered himself down so he could be on level with you. Richard instantly placed his hands on your shoulder as if to remind you that he was there. That he was there by your side. The palm of his hands trailed soothingly on the path of your upper arms and soldiers, and you could feel your turbulent breathing calm down for the briefest of moments.

“Ri--Richard I-- I didn’t know,” You shakily call out to him, struggling to get out any words, “It happened so fast, I--”

“(Y/N)... (Y/N), it’s okay… Shh shh, I got you honey. I got you.”

His calm voice washed over you like cold water on a cold day, the mere tone of it comforting you like no other thing could ever accomplish. All you knew in these hazy moments is that you were extremely relieved from Richard’s mere presence. His long arms slowly but reassuringly wrapped around your form, pulling you closer to him.

Still slightly panicked, you pushed him away lightly and placed your hands flat on his chest to stop him. Richard looked at you with only kindness and understanding, rich pools of aquamarine and cool green gazing at you with love and adoration.

Understanding that you might need some space, he pulls away to settle you down on the floor so he can sit next to you but you retreat your hands--bringing them to tightly grip on the tidied, white button up he wore. Coming back to your senses, you lean forward to close the proximity between you and the scarlet-haired man opening up his arms to welcome you with his embrace.

Opening up his legs, he ushered you between them to make it easier for him to hold you tenderly. Stopping to recollect yourself and to take in the moment, you cracked--a soft yet sharp cry left your form, and you buried your face in Richard’s chest. The palm of your hands were rubbed raw, and your nails indented crescent shaped marks into the soft skin. Tears rolled over the plains of your cheeks, replacing your old and dry ones.

“Look at me, love...Please look at me, (Y/N).” Richard had gently urged you, tilting your head up to meet his ever so softly.

Concerned and worried, your husband pressed his forehead against your feverish one. Both of your thighs settled on the sides of Richard’s waist, and his hands went from the small of your back to your legs. He laid his hands there in such a manner that reassured you that he was there, and that everything will be alright. Pushing yourself to take heavy breaths and failing every time, your husband stopped you in your tracks when he noticed.

With his forehead pulling away from yours and his hands reclaiming their spot on your back, Richard looked at you intently.

“Try to breathe with me okay?” Your husband gently said, rubbing circles on your back as you let out a shaky nod.

Peppering your cheek with kisses before he began, he let out a consoling smile.

“3… 2… 1… Inhale.”

You breathed in lots of air as soon as he said the word and his arms wrapped around you securely as you did. In the same manner he did before, he counted down from three and in a softhearted manner he instructed you to exhale.

“Let it all out, (Y/N)... Exhale.” Taking his time with each of his instructions, Richard patiently sat with you repeating the same words with bits of comforting sentences here and there until your breathing finally calmed down.

Still not knowing what to do, you cuddled closer to your husband as you feebly wrapped your arms around his waist. Whimpering and still trembling, you let yourself sink into the hold of your love. You clung around Richard’s strong frame, gaining comfort from the way he would whisper words of consolation near your ear.

“I’m right here, (Y/N). I’m right here.” He would keep saying, and each time seemed so much more loving than the last.

Everytime your breath seemed to hitch or stop, your husband quickly rushed to action--doing the best he could to give you the slightest bit of comfort to try to make it all better. Richard’s hands on your back ran a slow up-and-down motion and you looked up to take in his doting features. But the soft smile you were about to bestow him turned upside down as your brain ran over the events which just took place. With your mind and heart heavy, you felt defeated all over again. Turning your head to face away from the man you loved, Richard stopped you.

Pausing briefly, he went to cradle your face with both of his hands. Deeply taking oxygen in, Richard then put all of his attention on you. His eyes observing every breath, how your eyes dilated, or how you blinked profusely to keep the tears from falling.

“(Y/N), I want you to remember that I’m right here. That I always will be, and that no matter what--I will never ever leave your side.”

Relaxing immensely, all the tension that built inside of your being vanished without even a single trace. With no words to say, you stayed silent and instead gazed upon his light cobalt eyes with all of the affection you could muster in that moment.

Taking in his words, your eyebrows furrowed before relaxing. Swaddled up in Richard’s love, you relished in the feeling. You don’t think you could ever live a life without him near you. So you sank deeper into his hold as Richard offered you amorous kisses. On your forehead, on your cheeks, near your jaw, and especially on your lips.

All of his kisses were filled to the brim with the utmost care and affection.

You propped your arms on his shoulders, your form moving slightly with Richard positioning his hands to keep your body stable. Your head fell upon his shoulders and you dipped your nose in the crook of his neck. You couldn’t see it but you knew that your husband was smiling softly at your comfortable form.

A great feeling came over you--feelings such as comfort, relief, and glee all mixed  and mashed into one hurling emotion--knowing that you had Richard with you. The man who you loved with every single fiber your being could offer. The man who has seen you in your most vulnerable moments and never hesitated to come to your air. The man who held you so devotedly in his arms.

While basking and digging deeper into your head, you could faintly feel the way Richard’s dexterous fingers comb through your hair, his fingers sometimes applying pressure to give you a sort of scalp massage to help you relax just a bit better.

You let yourself sink away from his neck to look at his face. While his eyes were closed--his eyelashes fluttering and brushing over the top of his cheeks--he held such a languid look. An expression of concentration also rested deeply on his face, and you admired him in all of his beauty. You were putty in this man’s hold, but didn’t complain one bit.

For the time being, you let your mind slip away from reality, far away from the outside world. Tuning yourself out, you only focused on yourself and your peaceful husband. Your fingers played with his collar, fanning it down and up or just fiddling with the edges until you grew uninterested.

Closing your eyes to distract yourself, you laid lax and splayed on Richards lap. The two of you were still on the tiled kitchen floor, with you and his breathing the only noises the world has to offer right now.

Your heart was beating, but not at all like the way your heart was rapidly pounding just a few moments ago. This time it was pleasant, and you could’ve sworn that you also felt the thumping of Richard’s heart as you rested your hand on his chest too. You released soft puffs of breaths and you could feel yourself tearing up again. The familiar feeling welled up in your (E/C) eyes and when Richard picked up on you quietly sniffing, he rushed up and sat up with his back as straight as a pole.

“Is everything alright? Do you want me to get anythi--”

“No, no, Richard… It’s fine.” Cutting him off before he could finish you looked up to him with watery orbs, the sight making Richard’s heart pang with a wave of sadness.

“What happened…?”

“It’s just-- It’s just that… I love you so fucking much, Richard.”

“(Y/N), I love you too. I love you so, so, so much…”

Hiccuping and clinging onto him as if your life depended on it, it felt cathartic almost to be with him. You felt complete and you felt as if you can take on anything in the world--no matter how small or big. It was as if love just encased your whole heart and being whenever you were around him and no copious amounts of gratitude could ever capture how grateful you were for him. What happened earlier was shoved in the back of your brain, buried by your emotions for Richard and most likely never to be found again.

Holding out your pinky finger to him, his eyebrows quirked up in curiosity. While it was most certainly an act that was mostly done by children, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about that fact. You held it up for him and he stared at your finger for just a little bit longer before bringing up his own, both of your fingertips soon touching before wrapping each other securely.

“Can you promise me something, Richard?” You began carefully.

“Of course, my love. Anything.”

“Please promise me that… That you’ll never leave me because I wouldn’t dream of ever leaving you.”

With your pinky fingers both wrapped around each other, the look in Richard’s ocean eyes were genuine and gracious.

“I’ll be wherever you need me,” Richard had said, leaning in closer so your foreheads were touching once again. The intimate and soft act brought a sincere smile on your lips and you fluttered your eyelids shut.

“Right here,” He unwrapped his pinky for yours so he can envelop you in another embrace.

Raising his index finger, the cool pad of his fingertip brushed lightly to where your heart is through the flimsy material of your shirt. “And right here.”

Richard then cupped your hand and brought the knuckles to his lips, pressing passionate but quick kisses on them. Chuckling softly at the sweet gesture, you laid there with nothing but your husband occupying your head. Your hectic thoughts had died down and were replaced with calm and tranquil ones. Dropping your hand, it was free to play with the short hair at the base of Richard’s neck.

Drowsy and tired, your entire head felt heavy no matter how many times you attempted to bring it back up. Succumbing to sleep was easy, and Richard’s voice lulled you to it even faster. Before passing out, you did feel a pair of soft lips pressing one last kiss on your forehead. Richard carefully picked you up and scaled up the stairs, heading to the bedroom you two shared.

You didn’t know what the future held, but you knew that you and Richard would be by each other’s sides until the universe ceases to exist.

And you were more than fine with that.

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Author’s Note: Hopefully what I wrote was alright since it was indeed my first time writin’ something like this. Once again, if I did make a mistake, I’m fine with y’all correcting me. I do wish that all of you enjoyed reading this. And JJ, thank you for this request, I love ya! 😩💕

[mistersshelby]

mosley knew nothing | pt. one

i’ve thought a lot about the way season five ended and i’ve thought a lot about the kind of man oswald mosley is portrayed to be in the series and i started to wonder about how tommy had no idea who had betrayed him and so i wrote about it!

some scenes/partial dialogue/plot points have been borrowed from season five. this is the first part, i only imagine i would need one more part to wrap it up. i hope you like it!!! let me know what you think!!

warnings: physical abuse

masterlist

questions, comments, concerns

“Darling,” You perked up at the sound of Oswald’s voice calling through the house to you, “I need to speak with you.” He says when he hangs his coat up and spots you sitting in the armchair by the fire.

You place your book down and rise to greet him, pressing your palms flat against his chest as you look up at him, “What is it?”

He graces you with a small smile and then leans down to give you a chaste peck on the lips before pushing you aside. You try not to show your disappointment.

“I have… a political… mission for you.”

You frown, “Darling, you know I’m no good at politics.”

He smacks a book down on the coffee table and you flinch, “What did I tell you about speaking like a commoner? If you want to be my wife you must speak properly! Now, say it again, right this time.”

You clasped your hands behind your back in the hopes he wouldn’t notice the way they were shaking, “Darling,” You start and swallow, “How could I ever be of service to you in politics when my talents lie elsewhere?”

He stares at you for a moment before lowering his gaze, “Much better.” He clears his throat, “It is true you know nothing of politics, but that won’t matter, my dear. You have a pretty face, that is all I need.” You wanted to interject here to ask what he meant, but were too afraid to anger him again so you held your tongue and waited for him to elaborate. “You remember when I have spoken of Thomas Shelby, yes?”

The name rang a bell, you knew he was someone in politics that Oswald could never tell if he could trust or not, but that was the most you could recall. You nodded, “Yes.”

“I believe he is trying to plan my murder.”

You frowned, your mouth opened a bit and shock, “What? Why would he--?”

“He’s a gangster, darling. He would have no trouble killing me with his bare hands. However, he’s also a politician now so he wouldn’t risk executing it himself. He will have some sort of elaborate plan in place to look like he wasn’t involved at all.”

“And… Why would you need me?”

He smiled and rose from where he was sitting, cupping your face in his hands. He was so gentle, so loving sometimes, you wished nothing more than to melt into him. It was moments like these you knew you would do anything he asked of you. “Shelby Company Limited has an opening for a personal assistant. Mr. Shelby will hire you, having no idea who you are, and then you will seduce him and find out his plans.”

You very nearly shoved him away, but instead your body just tensed. Oswald brushed a thumb against your cheek, “Now, now, darling, I know you are loyal to me and this is an absolutely repulsive request. I would not ask it of you if it were not imperative to my survival. You are my only hope.”

You looked up into this man’s eyes and saw your whole future. How could you ever refuse him when the alternative was losing him forever? “I will do it for you, Oswald. Anything for you.”

His smile spread across his face and he pulled you closer to his chest, “I hoped you would say that.”

***

“What did you say your name was again?” Thomas sat down behind his desk across from you, a lit cigarette between his fingers. He looked agonizingly bored.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N, sir. If you look at my resume you’ll see I can help you with many things. I’ve had experience with child care and secretarial work. I’m very good at recording minutes at meetings and other transcripts, I--”

“That’s fine, you’re hired.”

You blinked in surprise, “Oh, I, really?”

“Yeah, you can start by going to keep my children entertained.”

You sat there, sort of stunned for a few more moments before getting the hint that you were dismissed and leaving. You did play with the children and they were lovely, but you still couldn’t understand the way Mister Shelby had hired you so easily.

The children were playing a game with you when they suddenly got quiet and a shadow loomed from behind you. “Y/N, come with me.”

You stood and followed him out, whispering discreet goodbyes to the children who couldn’t hide their smiles from you. 

“My children seem to have taken a liking to you.” He started as you left the room.

You nodded, “Yes, and I to them. They’re darling.”

“Do you know who I am, Y/N?”

You frown, “Everyone in Birmingham knows who you are, Mr. Shelby.”

“So why would a bright young woman like you want to work for me?”

Bright? You had never really thought of yourself as smart. Oswald certainly didn’t think you were smart. “I’m unmarried and childless, I need a job.” You shrug, “That’s all.”

“Are you worried the job will be dangerous?”

You frowned, “The job description in the ad didn’t seem to be very dangerous.”

“Sometimes… Sometimes being my assistant could be dangerous. Are you okay with that?”

Oswald hadn’t given you much of a choice, but you couldn’t deny the fear that chilled your heart as his words, “That’s alright, Mr. Shelby, I understand.”

“You can call me Tommy.” He said and for the first time you looked directly into his eyes. They were ice blue, but strangely felt warm. You expected to see the coldness you saw in Oswald’s eyes, only worse, but there was kindness in Tommy’s eyes. Kindness and a lot of pain.

You nod, “Okay… Tommy.”

There’s the barest trace of amusement on his face, “Go home then, I’ll see you back here in the morning.”

***

The next few weeks you had more fun than you had in years working with Tommy. He was never cruel to you, always praising you and making you feel like you were important.

“Y/N,” Tommy started one day when you came into his office, “There have been rumors that the nuns who run the orphanage my wife’s foundation donates to have been abusing the children. Just last week a black child hung herself, the other children have said it was for fear of the nuns.”

You shook your head, “That’s terrible.”

“Yes,” Tommy agreed, “Which is why I need you to go and record official testimony from the children so I have proof.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Me? By myself? Tommy, I--”

“You’re smart and capable and wonderful with children. They’ll talk to you. If I went with you it would only make them afraid.” You looked down at your lap doubtfully, “Hey,” Tommy said and your eyes snapped back to his, “I trust you. You can do this.”

It was moments like these that you had to remind yourself that this man wanted Oswald dead. “Okay.” You agreed, “Why are you doing this, though? For your image?”

He frowned at you, “No, I’m doing this because children are suffering and I don’t want to turn a blind eye. I know what it feels like to be a helpless child.”

You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that this was the man Oswald insisted killed for sport, wanted him murdered. And yet, he’d protect children who weren’t his kin? “Okay.” You agreed, “I’ll go tomorrow.”

***

“What is the bastard making you do there all day?” Oswald asked one evening as you were putting dinner on the table, “Bury the bodies of men he kills?”

You were growing annoyed at Oswald’s criticisms of Tommy. You knew you ought to hate Shelby, but really, did he think Tommy was really killing people all the time? “No, Oswald, I’ve told you already. Tommy has only made me do incredibly normal things, like take notes at meetings and play with his children. Sometimes go pick up a package from a shop. Nothing illegal.”

“Tommy?” He mocked you, “Sounds like the two of you are getting awful close.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted, dear fiancé?” You can’t help the lilt of your words, the sarcasm drenching the whole sentence. 

He’s across the table in an instant, hand clenched around your throat. You gasp for air, he’s close enough that you can smell the vodka on his breath. He’s drunk. You claw at his hands, but they only tighten, white spots dot the edge of your vision, “I am growing tired of your disrespectful tone, darling. Speak that way to me again and I will do much worse.”

When he lets go you fall to the floor, hands clutching your neck and tears pricking at your eyes. Oswald laughs at you and goes to pour himself another drink. Your hands shake as you serve him dinner and you don’t speak again that evening except for occasional “Yes, darling.” and “No, darling.”

***

“Y/N?” Tommy frowns as you walk into his office, “I thought you were going straight to the orphanage this morning.”

You pulled your collar up high around your neck, conscious of the hand shaped bruises you wore like a necklace, “Realized I forgot a notebook to record the testimony.” You said quietly, “I’ll be out of your hair in a moment.”

You’re conscious of his eyes on you as you walk around the room and think he must notice something is off with you, but he says nothing. You say nothing. And then you leave.

The orphanage takes up the majority of your day as you must first gain the trust of the children before they’re willing to tell you anything. You went in under the guise of a doctor, wanting to make sure they were all okay and the nuns didn’t seem to question it. 

By the time you leave it’s late afternoon and you feel emotionally drained from the devastating accounts of the children who, according to them, were beat and psychologically tortured by the nuns daily.

“I’ll warn you,” You say as you collapse in the chair across from Tommy’s desk and slide your notes toward him, “It’s disgusting.”

He silently opens the notebook and reads a few pages before placing it down again, “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.”

You nod and stand to leave, “Who gave you those bruises on your neck?” He interjects suddenly and you nearly fall over.

“It’s nothing,” You say quickly and pull your collar around your neck again, “I should be going.”

“You work for me.” He says as you hurriedly walk to the door, nearly tripping over your own feet, “If someone is hurting you I can take care of it.”

You freeze with your hand on the doorknob and look down at your feet. The whole reason you were here was to find out how he planned to kill Oswald. And here he was. Unknowingly volunteering to kill Oswald. It was almost humorous. “Goodnight, Tommy.” You said finally and walked out the door.

***

“I’m sorry if I overstepped yesterday.” You snap your head up at the sound of Tommy’s voice who’s standing at the end of your desk.

“It’s alright,” You said, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I just wanted you to know that I could help you. If you wanted.”

He just wants an excuse to kill someone. You thought to yourself, he doesn’t care about you. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

He stands there for another moment and then takes out a cigarette, “I’d like you to stay for dinner tonight. To thank you for your work at the orphanage. Also, it’s Ruby’s birthday and she’s requested that you be there.”

You smile, Ruby was a delight. You supposed this would also be a good opportunity to try and get more information out of Tommy. “I’d like that.”

***

Tommy’s wife is also at dinner and you wonder if this will hinder your chances of getting close with Tommy. She seems suspicious of you, faking smiles and pleasantries when Ruby jumps in your arms. She quickly scolds Ruby and tells her not to ruin her new dress.

Dinner is uneventful and mostly silent except when you sneak funny faces at Ruby and Charles, smiling to yourself when they dissolve in giggles. After dinner, Tommy asks you to take a walk with him outside and Lizzie can barely hide her disgust as she storms away, leaving the children to the maid.

“When Charles’s mother died this place stopped being a home.” He said as you walked quietly in the light of dusk. “Lizzie… Lizzie was happy when she got pregnant with Ruby, but not because she wanted to be a mother, but because she knew it would give her what she always wanted: me. But she’s not a good mother.”

You frowned, unsure why he was telling you this, “The children love Lizzie, they talk about her all the time.”

“Only because she is the only mother they’ve ever known. But then you come along and… I’ve never seen them as happy as when they’re with you.”

You offer him a half smile, “They’ve made me happier than I’ve been in a long time.” You say, and it’s true.

He nods and is silent for a moment, seemingly hesitating to say whatever he wants to say next, “Tell me who is hurting you so I can stop it. If only to spare my children the heartache if you turn up dead.”

You stop and turn to him, mouth falling open, “Tommy, I’m fine. I promise you I’m not in any danger.”

“A man who would put his hands on a woman will only feel gratification if she dies at his hand.” You’ve reached the stables now and Tommy has turned to face you. Your back brushes against the wall of the stable and Tommy is standing very close to you.

You shake your head, “He wouldn’t.” But your voice falters and you both know you’re lying.

Tommy moves to brush the back of his hand against your cheek, but you flinch at the movement and he drops it back down. You regret it instantly, realizing that you want him to touch you. Thoughts of Oswald and why you’re really here leave your mind and you take a step closer to him. He doesn’t back away. You rise on your tiptoes, you can feel your heart beating in your throat as your lips slowly inch closer to his--

“Mister Shelby?”

You reel back, slamming yourself into the stable wall behind you. Tommy, unfazed, turns around to see one of his staff standing behind him, “What is it?” 

“Mister Churchill is at the house, sir, he demands an audience with you.”

Tommy raises his eyebrows, “Oh, does he?” He looks back at you and then sighs, “Set him up in my office, I’ll head back in a moment.”

“Winston Churchill? What would he want with you?”

The corner of Tommy’s mouth quirks up, “You know, for once, I have no idea.” He stares at your mouth for a moment too long before turning away and walking back to the house. You quickly walk after him, head still reeling from your almost-kiss. 

You were engaged to Oswald, you loved Oswald, Tommy wanted Oswald dead. But still, you couldn’t deny the way your heart pulled to Tommy. It made you feel sick.

“Would you like to stay the night?” He asked when you had gotten close to the house.

You blinked at him, appalled, “What?”

“No, I don’t mean… It’s late, you can stay in a guest room. I’ll have someone make it up for you. Unless…” He eyed your neck and you fought not to cover it up, “Unless it would be worse for you to not go home.”

You should go home, but… What if what he talks to Churchill about is important? Oswald will understand. You needed to save him. You were most likely running out of time. “A bed to sleep in would be nice.”

He nods and opens the door for the house, ordering a maid to bring you to a guest room. “Thank you for coming.”  He says turning back to you, “I’m sure Ruby really appreciated it.”

You smiled, “I would do anything for her, that girl has me wrapped around her finger.” And you meant it. 

He manages a small smile and then turns away from you to head to his office. You let the maid bring you upstairs and wait for her to leave before you quietly move down the stairs again, deciding that if anyone caught you, you’d say you were looking for the bathroom. But there was no one to be seen in the corridors of Tommy’s large home. You heard murmurs coming from outside his office door and checked once more that no one was around before pressing your ear to the wood.

“...because there are rumors of you allying yourself with that fascist Mosley, but you’re not his ally at all, are you? You’re spying on him.”

Oswald. They were talking about Oswald. “Yes.” Tommy says.

“Why?”

“The honest answer is… I’m no longer sure.”

You listen for a few minutes longer, finding out that both Churchill and Tommy believe your fiancé is dangerous, someone who would fan the flames of another war. Eventually, you slowly walk back up the stairs to your bedroom. You lie in the bed, staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours. You hear Tommy come up the stairs and stop outside your bedroom door, only to walk away moments later.

You lie awake and think about the man you are sworn to marry. You start to wonder if you really know him at all.

[h-sleepingirl]

Scenes from a Hypnotic (Ninteenth) Date

Yes, this is the 19th date -- 17th and 18th were too personal to share. I am not sure if it's the content of our dates that is changing, or my perspective on them, or both, but I'm trying to be more open about writing the things I need to write and putting that first before I consider how they read to others.

That being said, this is a couple selected scenes from this last date -- bookends; one of the first and one of the last. I am a little nervous about sharing them because they express a very real cruelty in our relationship that I desperately love but understand is not everyone's cup of tea. And the flipside; I get frustrated that I can't portray the real darkness and the real emotions except through some bullshit flowery language that really does not properly represent it.

I have a half-written non-erotic piece about agency that I've been sitting on for months about how in the BDSM community, "intense" styles of CNC and D/s are accepted and discussed, whereas in the hypnokink community, it feels extremely taboo to bring up the concept of purposefully challenging or limiting agency.

In the middle of our date, we were talking, and I said to him, "You know, we've been completely nebulous about the concept of having safewords, and I kind of don't want to break that."

Maybe sometime I will finish that other writing, but all I want to express here is that that is somewhat representative of the sort of risk we play within, and that, and the psychologically sadistic things it allows him to do to me, is what I thrive off of.

--

“You know what I was masturbating to?” he murmurs, stroking my hair, my neck, down my body. “I was getting off on the idea of just ruining your life. Making you completely stupid, permanently, so you really were useless for everything, really couldn’t do anything on your own…”

The fantasy is so saccharine sweet, such a direct hit of sex, something I always go back to if I need to get off. The darkness of it, of losing everything, the promise of simplicity and just easy fucking for the rest of my life, not attractive as escape but as reduction of self, and the ultimate promise of his control…

I realize dimly as my hips twitch back and forth that I am going to get the wickedness I need from him right now. I gasp in breaths, I feel myself get dizzy with hypnosis the more I move against him, the more he presses his lips to my head and ear to whisper patronizingly.

“Is it worse because you know I could do it?” he asks. “Is it worse because you know I have that much control, I really could make you that dumb, I really could change you?”

I flash back to my favorite date where he threatened -- maybe promised -- to take one smart thing away from me, permanently, while he went through ideas and each one I begged him to leave because I couldn’t imagine my life without being good at math, or good at writing, or good at hypnosis… The implications… I don’t know if he could really take everything without some effort, but part of the horror of it is how hot the idea gets me, gets us both, makes us both inclined to play fast and loose and risky with it. Tease. Brush against it… Find how far we can go.

“No,” I whisper, feeling the pull on my IQ, “I need to write more… More books…”

“We already discussed what your next book would be,” he says smoothly, and slides his hands over my tits to jiggle and grope them. “Cocks and titties, and cute little hearts…”

I moan, humiliated. “No, no -- I have to do it --”

“Why do you feel like you have to write more?” he says, and shifts his gaze, eyes turning very dark. “Is it an ego thing?”

I feel like he’s reached inside me and closed his fingers around my core, squeezing, threatening, toying. I’m having a hard time talking, I wanted to tell him that I need to teach, I need to share my knowledge, but he blew past my questionable altruism to this horrible thing, a truth that I try to be nonchalant and cognizant of but is always something I am ashamed of on a deep level, my selfish motivations for teaching and leading and writing…

“I could take it all away,” he murmurs, “and people wouldn’t respect you anymore. They would all be like, ‘Oh, this is sleepingirl now, she’s just one of those girls on the internet that shows off her tits…’”

I think of how he’s already taken away some of my ability to be analytical about his trance, about how I used to be thrilled by understanding the tricks and learning and modeling him and how that’s begun to slip, and it becomes very real.

How deeply we both fetishize this, how cruel this is, how he keeps digging into my sense of self and knocking me down, slashing at my ego sadistically.

--

Sitting on the park bench. He tries to fit his finger into my mouth and I turn my head to the side, terrified and uncomfortable, trying to hide what he's doing. I don’t want to make a scene, but there are people around everywhere, behind us on the sidewalk, in front of us on the grass, on the other benches. It is too much, it is too sexual, it is too public.

He is quiet but insistent, pushing it between my lips, and to my horror, they begin to part automatically, but I wrench myself out and try to purse them, even feeling my teeth gently close around his finger. My heart is racing and I realize I have no real way of getting out of this without drawing attention to us. I am trapped. I am scrambling to figure out if this is something I need to speak up about to him, protest hard, declare a limit, but I feel myself recoil at the thought of restricting his access to me…

He pushes his finger further to touch my tongue, and I start sucking, and I start to fade away.

“There we go,” he murmurs softly. “That’s a good girl.”

I melt into him, the crisis fresh in my mind and alarm bells going off, but subdued by sucking and totally helpless.

He pulls it out and snaps. I look at him and I almost feel betrayed.

“You were really fighting,” he says quietly, smiling an easy smile and edging towards mocking me. “You were really trying to resist; you really didn’t want that. How did that go for you?”

His extremely real reduction of my agency, his patronizing tone… It is a punch in the gut. It is real control.

“And look,” he says, “no one is looking. They're all far away.”

For the first time, I look away from him, and see that he’s right.

--

@hypnokinkwithmrdream

[snacc-noir]

could you maybe do two with g, please? love your writing!

Aw ty!

2. “I’ve always thought the idea of being a prisoner would be kind of cool”

G. Enemy au

Ladynoir

-

Chat Noir is a lot of things and smooth is a least favourite of hers.

Undignified and losing or not, his composure won’t wilt. Not even a shade of fear flashes for his opponent that indicates he’s fretting his loss, leaving Ladybug leaving fights unsatisfied, confused, and wondering if she ever did have the upper hand - even the days she pries something out of him.

And something that answers his motive of destruction is everything.

The sky blood-orange, her favourite enemy helpless in the sewer, she finally can get more than their standoffs produce.

“I’m late for dinner.”

She toys her yo-yo. “I hear there’s a lovely garbage chute a mile down.”

“Haha. I’ll have you know, I’ve always thought the idea of being prisoner would be kind of cool, so you’re giving me a gift right now.”

She tosses a look down the sewer. Rats squeak, and a lonesome beam of coral light streams from an opened drain lead. They’re deep in the tunnel and the wet smell proves it.

“Oh no,” she says, “you caught me. Happy birthday.”

“How’d you know it was my birthday?”

Surprise flickers. “It is?”

“It is if it makes you release me.”

Ladybug rolls her eyes. The yo-yo lurches and refastens as she strides her pace’s path.

“You haven’t answered my original question: Why are you working with him?”

His boot thrums on the lucky-charm makeshift jail cell, his hands bounded and illusioned to appear relaxed, but the angle and slight writhe to his shoulders infer his quiet struggle. His ring beeps.

“Fringe benefits.”

“Chat.”

He is infuriating.

It’s been months since they were tossed into each other’s lives. Months since she’s been prying for reasons why this oh-so-lovable being is working with Hawk Moth, and nothing sustains an answer.

He dashes past queries and works with the akuma without much drive to, the same time he bants with her like they’re less than enemies. The tabloids portray him alike to evil but her heart, mind, and gut want to argue like he’s something else.

Like he’s good.

He’s so, so good.

She knows it to the point it hurts.

“Kitty,” she whispers, “please.”

His dismissal aches, her lack of understanding eats away at her. He can’t be bad; not when he’s never disheartened by a loss, not when he fights without vigor and ensures no harm to his opponent.

Not when he looks at her like that.

“Why do you do this?” Her tone rises, expression melting with vulnerability. “What’s your end goal? Why are you working with akuma, then behind the scenes comforting the crying boy it hurt after it’s all over?”

Cross-legged in the jail cell, his head falls.

“Why do you choose this?”

A drip echos.

“Why is it always, ‘you’.”

He finds his voice; a breath that seems like it was still debating whether to release, but it’s too late and the sewer’s vibrations draw it into range for Ladybug to hear anyway.

“Even think I don’t have a choice?”

Ladybug stills.

The coarse, fearsome whisper startles her, a powerful quality to his voice as it edges to a hiss.

Their eyes touch.

Scared.

They’re both scared.

His ring beeps.

“So Hawk Moth is— You’re— He’s forcing you to work with him?” Although the news stings, a warm feeling of relief bursts beside the shock. Immediately, she’s saves the implications of his words and their depth for later and begins conjuring ways to help him. “That means we can team up to beat him! And we can take his Miraculous! We can- we could be partners.”

Partners.

The suggestion seems too good to be true just slipping past her lips.

His eyes are glazed, mouth curved and unpromising. Her doubt is instantly right.

“I can’t, L-B.” His tone waves with a crack. Without the tunnel’s echo, she may not have heard him. “I just can’t.”

Her fist shakes with her yo-yo in grip. She’s reeled back from being pressed against the bar to see into him, now pacing with a new fever.

“But why not!? You’re good, Chat Noir. I know you are! How can you be locked into this lifestyle unless Hawk Moth has some control over you? What kind of authority even exists?!” She whips back, arms spread, the last beam of colour fading as the sun sets further. “How are you trapped?”

His hands writhe as his Miraculous is close to sounding off for the last time. There’s moisture breeding in the hurt stare of his mask, killing her as she seeks- burns for answers.

“Please. I want to help. We can work together.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I can be. We would be amazing partners, I just know it!”

The damn splints and silent tears begin forming clefs down his cheeks. “I know we would.”

He’s infuriating.

It’s infuriating.

“Joining you won’t work,” he says. “It just won’t. He owns me, and I have no power against it without endangering myself.”

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair.

And she still can’t understand.

“But- How is Hawk Moth owning you?!” she shrieks. There’s tears of her own now, all of her a mess of passion. “What does he have to destroy you like this?! This isn’t who you’re meant to be!”

The last beep.

“Why, Chat?”

The last pawprint.

Chat’s suit climbs off, and a new, bruised and berated boy with tears lining his exposed skin sits before her.

“I’m Adrien Agreste.”

Her yo-yo falls.

“And I’m Hawk Moth’s son.”

-

[ Prompt me ]

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part ten) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±6500 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part ten: Y/N is about to go on an adventure. Good thing she has her friend Jo to help her pack and her crush Dean to guide the way. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: The Man With The Harmonica - Ennio Morricone, Hide And Seek - Gareth Dunlop (end scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

    “Wait, you’re not planning on bringing all that with you, are ya?”     Y/N’s eyes leave the three pairs of boots from which she still has to choose. Not to decide what two sets to leave behind, but which to wear and which to pack. Jo stands in the doorway of her tiny room, staring at the bed, which is covered in flannels, shirts, tops, several hats, jeans, jackets, sweaters, towels, socks, matching underwear, swimwear, a makeup bag, and a toiletry bag. Even a hair iron and of course her phone charger lay amongst the collection of items that one way or another are going to have to fit into her bag.

    The season is coming to an end now that September has reached its final days. It’s time to move the two-year-old horses down from the summer reservation. Bobby had asked his intern if she wanted to come along and of course she blurted out ‘yes!’ before he could even finish his sentence. She was so excited about the trail ride and started packing immediately. This is going to be quite an experience, especially for a show rider like herself who usually sticks to riding in a fenced arena.     It’s a good thing that she started gathering her things early, because she has been contemplating what to bring for over an hour now. She’s the kind of girl who pays extra for exceeding the luggage weight limit on her flights, so no wonder she’s having it tough choosing what to bring.

    A little helpless she looks over at Jo, who’s waiting on her response.     “I was planning on bringing this, actually,” she returns, hesitatingly.     “Damn… poor horse,” the blonde cowgirl comments, eyeing all her friend’s stuff.     “Too much?” Y/N assumes.     “Just a tad,” Jo scoffs as she walks in. “And what the hell are you bringing the entire electronics store for?”     “It’s just my charger and my hair iron. I will look like birds are nesting on my head if I don’t straighten this out,” she objects, holding out the strands of hair that have escaped her ponytail.     “And you can’t have that with Dean around.” The ranch owner’s daughter crosses her arms in front of her chest, knowingly frowning at her friend.     Y/N tilts her head and glares back, but fails to come up with a decent counter, because she’s not wrong.     “Shut up,” she mutters instead.     “By all means, pack it.” Jo shrugs as she turns back to the door. “But unless you tie a generator behind that horse of yours or find a cactus with a plug, you ain’t charging a damn thing.”     “Wait. What?” Y/N responds, confused.

    Jo sways around, her blonde braid hanging down from one shoulder. She narrows her eyes, trying to understand how her friend could be so oblivious to the fact that there won’t be any electricity where they are going. “What did my old man tell you exactly?”     “That we might have to spend a couple of nights out camping,” Y/N recalls, trying to remember his exact words.     “Have you ever been out camping, city girl?” Jo wonders, her tone indicating that she has figured it out.     Now Y/N crosses her arms defensively. Just because she comes from a wealthy family, doesn’t mean that she has never been on a trip back to basics.     “I have, as a matter of fact,” she returns confident.     “Let me define ‘camping’,” Jo kicks off. “I’m talking ‘bout the sleeping-in-a-tent, no-shower-for-days, cooking-your-own-food-above-a-fire kind of camping. Not the kind where you park the luxurious double axle camper nice and close to the restaurant and the power station and get that satellite working as soon as possible so y’all can watch Netflix.”

    Y/N opens her mouth to claim that she is not that kind of person, but has to admit her loss. She’s right, down to the double axle camper and the satellite TV.     “So, no electricity? No shower?” she asks, intimidated by the matter, a trace of panic in her voice.     “Nope,” Jo confirms, amused. “Better start prioritizing. Let me get my saddlebags, you can use those. Everything that doesn’t fit in there except for your sleeping bag, is not comin' along for the ride.”     “Alright,” Y/N agrees reluctantly, nonetheless grateful for the help. “But how are you going to pack if I have your saddlebags?”     “Simple: I’m not. I’m staying home,” the ranch owner’s daughter says.     Astonished, the intern looks at her. Wait, her friend isn’t coming on this trail? The thought actually scares Y/N a little, because Jo has been there to guide her since she picked her up from the airport over a month ago.     “Are you kidding me? Why?”     “Someone has to run this joint while y’all are having fun. Usually, the stable crew guards the castle, but with Ash gone…”

    Y/N drops her head, her mind going out to the former cattle worker. Ash left a week ago. Bobby gave him two weeks' notice but said he was free to go anytime. The loyal employee showed character and stayed as long as Bobby could afford to keep him. But after those fourteen days, Ash had no choice but to leave. Everyone was sad to see the quirky fellow go. The exchange of hugs between him and every member of his working family was moving to witness.     “Dad offered to stay behind by himself, but he’s getting too old to work that hard,” Jo explains. “Garth and I will make sure everything runs smoothly here.”     “What about me? How am I supposed to function without my conscience?” Y/N pouts.     “You’ll be fine. You got Dean to hold your hand the entire way,” Jo mocks.     The worried cowgirl chuckles. “That’s the whole problem now, isn’t it?”     Jo gets up and intends to leave the room to get the saddlebags. She halts in the doorway, though, offering good advice. “Just remember: don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”     “He’s your cousin. Of course you’re not going to sleep with him,” Y/N returns smartly, pulling a laugh from the blonde cowgirl.     “See my point?” she returns, winking back before she leaves the room.

    Thirty minutes later, Y/N is packed and ready, but sacrifices had to be made. Obviously, the hair iron and phone charger didn’t make the final cut, but neither did her shampoo, conditioner, and moisturizer, since she won’t be able to shower anyway. Her makeup didn’t fit into the bags either. It hurts to leave it all behind and she already feels insecure about spending days with the others wearing a blank canvas of a face. Sure she isn’t as fresh at the end of a working day as she was at the start of it, but so far she has been able to keep her hair and makeup in check. Now she won’t even have a mirror to judge how tired and ordinary she looks without a brow pencil and mascara.     “You’re all set.” Jo, who is on her knees on the wooden floor fighting with the saddlebag, secures the last strap, shifts her weight back on her heels and places her hands on her narrow waistline.     “I owe you one. I would have never managed alone,” Y/N says, appreciating her friend’s help.     “You know you can count on me.” She shrugs it off after getting up. “I’ll lend you my raincoat and my gloves too. Never sure if you’re gonna need ’em, but if the monsoon decides to throw a curveball at ya, you’ll be thanking me.”     She pops out of the room again, as excited for the intern as Y/N is herself. Jo’s bubbly personality has her smiling even after she leaves. It’s funny how it feels like they have known each other for years and yet it was only a month ago that she got into the pickup truck at the airport. One month ago, this challenge started. Her dad tries to hide the surprise in his voice every time she phones him to tell him how much she is enjoying her time here. He probably expected a plea for money. That, or a one-way ticket back to luxury and easy work.

    Y/N looks at one of the pictures that she nailed to the wooden wall. It portrays her family; Mom, Dad, and her three brothers surrounding Y/N at her graduation ceremony. Sure, she misses them, but she is starting to become a part of this ranch family too. That’s how it feels anyway: accepted, wanted… even loved. Her eyes hover over the picture frames and other decorations that she used to spice up her room a little. Many of the photos show Meadow, some snapped during shows, others at home in the fields. Won belt buckles and ribbons are trophies of their success together, each memory a highlight of her partnership with the special Quarter mare. Y/N remembers when she won every single one of them.

    “You’re not getting homesick, are ya?”     She startles, jolted awake from her daydream, and turns her head to face her handsome supervisor. Dean leans against the doorpost, and judging by the amused expression, he has been standing there for longer than a second. Dear Lord, she got so caught in recalling past victories and happy memories, that she didn’t hear him walk up to her room. The sight of him has her lost for air, even after recovering from the scare. He stands on one leg, the other bent and crossing his back foot, resting on the nose of his boot. Fringe from his worn chaps fall down over his jeans, a dark brown Stetson to match it. Dressed in a red plaid buttoned shirt and a denim jacket over it, he looks even better than he did this morning. The handsome models in the old Marlboro commercials have nothing on him.     “Don’t worry. I’m not going back anytime soon,” she responds before Dean can call her out on staring. “Besides, this is beginning to feel a lot like home, too.”     The wrangler glances at the wall next to the bunk bed and lets his eyes roam over the photos, ribbons and buckles. He smiles at a goofy picture of her and her three older brothers.     “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he compliments.     Y/N smiles at that. “Well, I am going to be staying here for a while. Might as well make it cozy.”

    He grins, his green eyes catching the rays of sunlight coming through the window. Specks of gold stand out amongst the apple green, his pupils adjusting as they flick over the captured moments. They stop when he notices a photo taken during a prize-giving ceremony. He recognizes Meadow instantly, her trademark white face is hard to miss. She stands proudly with a white and blue sash hanging from her neck, event sponsors standing next to the horse, presenting the prizes won while smiling at the camera. But the person who smiles the brightest is Y/N, who sits squarely in the saddle with a wide grin on her face and sparkles in her eyes.     “You won the State Championships,” he says impressed, reading the footnote. “That’s pretty damn impressive.”     Y/N lights up but stays humble. “Meadow was on fire. It was the ride of my life.”     “I bet it was.” Dean watches her for a second, admiring, while she reminisces over the highlight of her riding career. Then he glances at his watch briefly. “We leave at ten. You’re all packed?”

    “She is now,” Jo interrupts, holding out a rolled-up sleeping bag and neatly packed raincoat. “Gloves are in the pockets.”     “Thanks, Jo.” Y/N takes them and looks over her shoulder in search of her saddlebags. Dean instantly moves in to pick them up, since she has her hands full anyway.     “I got it,” he states, lifting her luggage over his shoulder.     “Oh, how noble of you!” Jo teases her cousin, not at all impressed with his manors. “What are you gonna do next? Buy a white horse?”     Y/N snorts, but quickly straightens her mouth into a thin line to silence herself and hide the sign of amusement. Luckily, the wrangler is too busy countering her friend, as he follows the two girls into the living room.     “It’s called ‘being nice’. You should try it sometime,” Dean snarls.     Before the ranch owner’s daughter pushes open the front door, she looks over her shoulder. “Would you like to hold the door for her too?” she suggests, a challenging smirk on her face.     “Would you like to shut your piehole?” Dean fires back after rolling his eyes.

    Y/N giggles at the bickering, and opens the door herself by pushing it with her foot. If she didn’t know any better, she would think the two are siblings. Maybe not by blood, but they spent a great deal of their childhood together in the same house, at least that’s what she understood from Jo. Over the years, the youngest Singer figured out that she might not be able to beat her older cousin when it comes down to strength and speed, but verbally she stands her ground just fine. Now is no different, because Dean might have had a comeback ready, Y/N doesn’t fail to notice the color on his cheeks. He carefully glances at her from under his hat, the cowgirl smiling back reassuringly before she descends down the stairs.

    At the tack up area, the Joshua tree stands tall, offering meager shade to the horses and humans underneath its branches. It’s rush hour. Benny and Garth are readying the horses, assisted by the three riders that are coming along for the trail. Dean was against bringing people along on such a long and potentially dangerous ride, but Bobby said the tourists paid good money and were experienced, so eventually, he agreed. Eight horses are tied up to the rails around the yucca tree. Six of them will be ridden, the other two will be the group’s packhorses. Y/N spots Joplin amongst them, the feisty mare that has grown on her over the past weeks.     “She’s yours for the next couple of days.” Dean points her out, heading over to the dark horse with Y/N’s baggage. “Since the two of you get along so well.”

    Delighted, she faces the mare, who pushes her soft nose into the folded raincoat in her arms, sniffing up the aroma. Y/N likes the little dark horse. She is not easy, has different ideas about what the pace should be, and can get very offended when her rider tells her otherwise, but there’s something about her attitude that the intern appreciates. She’s fast, tireless from the second her rider puts a foot in the stirrup, to the second he or she gets off. The Quarter is perfect for a trail like this. It didn’t cross her mind to bring Meadow for the ride. The reining horse, which is used to train on smooth arena footing, would most likely injure herself on the uneven rocky slopes and narrow paths. The hours under saddle would be much longer than regular training too, and Y/N does not want to confront her four-legged best friend with a task that she isn’t up for.     Dean swings the saddlebags over Joplin’s back and straps them to the saddle. He mounts the sleeping bag and Jo’s raincoat that he takes from the intern on top, his fingers briefly brushing against hers in the transfer. The tingling sensation lingers on the surface of her skin where he touched her, causing her to be the one who is flustered now. The wrangler carefully glances over as he secures the baggage. She feels caught, but his expression is soft and comforting; he felt it too.

    “Okay, y’all! We’re goin’ in five!” Benny shouts loud enough for everyone on the square to hear with his Southern accent thick on his tongue. “If you have to use the john or forgot to pack clean undies, now would be your last chance to do so.”

    Last preparations are made by the crew. Benny secures his lasso to the horn of the saddle with a leather rope strap, while Dean consults his uncle one more time before departure, the two of them looking at a map of the Superstition Mountains. Then Dean folds the map and shoves it into the inside pocket of his jacket, after which he walks over to Ted Nugent, the big brown gelding that he will be riding for the upcoming days, since his favorite buckskin is out with a tendon injury ever since that rainy morning when the cattle broke out.  Ellen walks up to her nephew and hands him a paper bag which, without a doubt, contains something delicious.     “Made you some pecan tassies for on the road,” she says. “Wouldn’t want you to miss my baking too much.”    “Thanks, Ellen.” Dean gives her a grateful nod and puts the tassies in his saddlebag.     “Be careful out there, alright?” she presses, clearly worried about the quest that lies ahead for the wranglers. “Bring them back home safely.”     “I’ll take care of the bunch. I promise,” he assures comfortingly, gently pulling her into his chest after which he gives his aunt a kiss on her hair.

    Ellen and Dean aren’t the only ones who exchange a few last words before the group leaves.     “Okay, grasshopper. This is it,” Jo’s voice sounds from behind Y/N.     She spins on her heels in between the horses to meet the ranch owner’s daughter, who folds her arms around Y/N and hugs her tight. Happily, she returns the embrace before Jo pulls back and holds her by the shoulders.     “Stay away from chollas if you don’t want Joplin to turn into a two-year-old who never had a saddle on her back before. And if the horses get nervous and you hear a rattle, get the hell out of Dodge, because there’s a rattlesnake within a few feet from you. Check your–-”     Y/N cuts Jo off, because she has heard this before from either her or Ellen.     “I know, I know. Check my boots for spiders and scorpions before I put them on and keep the tent closed,” she fills in.     “Not just to keep out insects and reptiles, but horny cowboys as well,” Jo adds.     Y/N snorts. “I’ll handle him. I will miss you, though.”     “I’ll miss you, too, sis,” her friend returns, smiling.

    They say goodbye while Dean unties his gelding and gets on swiftly, overlooking the group from the higher point of view.     “Y’all ready?” he asks the company of six.     When the riders cheer, he takes the reins with one hand and pulls it gently towards him, an aid for Ted to backup and move away from the other horses. The excitement rises noticeably, comparable to what one would feel when on an aircraft just before take-off and on its way to a new destination. Some of the animals start to get restless in the thrill, Joplin included. Y/N doesn’t waste any time and pulls the safety knot in order to free the mare, then puts her left foot in the stirrup and pushes herself off the ground with her right, swinging it over the back of the black horse.     “Good luck, y’all,” Bobby wishes the six men and women.     “See you in a couple of days!” Jo calls out.

    Y/N waves at the people staying behind, a bright smile spreading from ear to ear. Looking forward to the adventure that will come next, she straightens herself in the saddle and faces the vast landscape. She might be twenty-four, but she feels more like a seven-year-old going on a field trip. In front of the rider, a pair of alert ears belonging to Joplin point forward. Beyond that view, the promontory of the Superstition Mountains stretches out. The sun has risen from behind the ridges in the East hours ago, already warming up the valley with its strong rays.

    Dean watches the young woman, consumed by a different kind of scenery as his horse follows the path. In the past few weeks, she has grown more comfortable in her role as a wrangler and a ranch hand. The daily routine is starting to become her second nature and the people she works with are her friends now. He wouldn’t have guessed it at first - and he’s quite sure she herself wouldn’t have guessed it either - but she fits in perfectly. The rich girl from upstate with a master’s degree under her belt feels at home surrounded by a bunch of country folks in the dry desert lands of the south west. Who would have thought that? Dean smiles, content; something tells him that this trip will help her blossom even more.

    She could almost hear a harmonica play the theme from Once Upon A Time In The West, and she’s still waiting for tumbleweed to roll across the path. Cacti reach for the sun, their arms outstretching upward, like the giants are growing actual limbs. It’s a nice variation to the evergreens that she is used to, back in Maine. The rain that came down two weeks ago has laid a blanket of green over the dry lands; it’s amazing how nature can change in a matter of days. Jo warned her about the sun, and with good reason. Over the last month, the intern slowly but surely got used to the extreme weather circumstances that Arizona offers, but she has never been on a horse during the hottest hours of the day. It might already be late September, but the heat is blistering. She could use a shower right about now, and just the thought of not being able to take one for the next couple of days grosses her out. The temperatures weigh on the female rider, more than she thought it would, but her partner Joplin doesn’t seem to mind much. Her neck and shoulders are sweaty, but she still dribbles impatiently every now and then, eager to cover more ground.

    Dean leads the group, guiding them from spring to spring. The group left the Hieroglyphic Trail about three hours ago, which ended at a small creek and a poor excuse for a waterfall. They took a break there and had a few of Ellen’s delicious pecan tassies while the horses drank. Now, they are well on their way to Willow Spring, but the trail isn’t getting any easier. As they conquer the steep slopes, the pace slows down. Y/N is amazed at how the horses are able to maneuver on the rough terrain, which consists of loose pebbles, slippery boulders, and cracked volcanic rock. One misstep could severely injure the large animals, but they seem to be aware of that. Joplin proceeds agile and fearless, almost like a bobcat, and her rider learns quickly to let her take care of the drops and jumps. She doesn’t need guidance, the mare knows the way. All Y/N has to do is sit tight and move along with her to maintain the balance.

    “How y’all doing back there?” Dean is looking over his shoulder, his free hand resting on the cantle of the saddle.     “We’re good!” one of the tourists assures.     His name is Brad, the young guy riding next to his sister Macy and their buddy Jonathan. The head wrangler chatted a little bit with the three members of the group and they turn out to be good company. The trio is traveling across the country, enjoying a gap year from college. With Brad and Macy’s father being a rancher in Colorado, they know their way around horses. Jonathan is a little less experienced in the saddle, but he’s managing just fine. No doubt about it, though, that he’s going to be left with a serious muscle ache in the coming days.         The leader of the pack shifts his eyes from them to his intern, asking her the same question silently. She nods, smiling reassuringly at her handsome supervisor, telling him in the same language that she’s doing fine. Content, Dean smiles back and winks at her before he straightens himself.     It’s a good thing he’s not facing her anymore, because Y/N is sure that about a hundred butterflies hatched from their cocoons in her stomach, the feeling triggering her to take a shuddering breath. She huffs, annoyed with the response he triggered. Just look at him. He’s infuriatinglygorgeous, looking way too good on his horse, in those darn chaps, wearing that darn western hat. A part of her wants to dislike him, just for being so distracting. But she can’t be mad at him, not really. Just a glance her way with that grin and she’s a complete goner. Y/N watches as the cowboy catches up with Benny, slowing his horse down when they are side by side.

    “Tell me, Chief, how are things between you and the intern goin’?” the Southerner wonders, making sure the woman in question is unable to pick up on the conversation.     Dean looks aside at his best friend, amused by his curiosity. “It’s not going anywhere, really. Things are good as they are,” he claims.     “Oh, c’mon, now. Did she turn you down again?” Benny guesses.     Dean eyes him. “She didn’t turn me down. I just didn’t make my move.”     The wrangler next to him seems to need a second to process the information. Dean Winchester didn’t make a move on a girl he likes in 0.2 seconds? That’s a new one. “Wait a minute. So you two haven’t even…?”     “We’re just friends, Benny,” Dean claims, aware how terribly unconvincing it sounds the moment he pronounces the words.     “Horse shit. You didn’t pass up Casey to be ‘just friends’ with the gal. You called dibs,” he reminds the head wrangler. “Besides, I see the way you look at her. You don’t look at a pal like that.”

    Dean shakes his head, remembering the arrangement well. It’s not like he can deny he made that deal with the farrier, despite that it felt wrong to do so. But back then when he claimed her in order to keep his notorious friend away, he was still clueless about the affection he felt for her. The affection that steadily grew stronger to the point where he cares more about what’s best for the free young woman than what he wants for himself.     “So what, Benny?” He shrugs, hoping his friend would let it go.     “So what? I know it’s a little dusty here in the desert, but did you get sand in your eyes?” Benny returns, perplexed.     “Look, I know she’s awesome, and yes, I wouldn’t mind hooking up with her, but I can’t, okay?” Dean claims.     Unable to understand the math behind his choice, the broad-shouldered ranch hand throws him a look that somewhere between dirty and confused. “Why not?”     “Well for starters, Bobby will kill me if he finds out, since he took me aside to specifically forbid me to pull anything. Secondly, she’ll only stay for six months--”     Benny interrupts him, however. “Invalid, Chief. Bobby told you before to quit bouncing around with clients and staff and it never stopped you then. And since when is six months too short for you? You usually get bored with your lady friends after a--”     The cowboy from the South stops mid-sentence and Dean can almost hear it click in his mind. Oh, boy. Benny has figured it out. Even though he tried to make up excuses in order to avoid being confronted by his best bud, there’s no way of dodging that bullet now.     “Well, fuck a goat and call her Nancy! You’re in love with her,” Benny announces, shocked.     Dean raises his eyebrows at the rider next to him, then scoffs and looks away, trying to act like the very idea is ridiculous. “That’s - that’s just… Y-you’re insane,” he stutters, unable to flat out deny it.     Benny starts to laugh out loud, apparently very much amused with his discovery. “I can’t believe you walked straight into that love trap!”     “Would you keep your voice down?” the rider next to him hushes.     The farrier looks over the back of his horse at the intern, but she’s about thirty yards behind them talking to Macy, clueless what the two wranglers leading the group are discussing.     Dean stays quiet for a few long seconds, trying to decide if he is ready to admit that she means so much to him. “She’s a nice girl, Benny. I don’t wanna hurt her,” he claims.     “Oh, c’mon now! You’re seriously telling me you grew a conscience all of a sudden? You used to love ‘em and leave ‘em without a second thought.” Benny has crossed his wrists over the horn of his saddle, the reins loosely between his fingers, as he looks aside to catch anything that would indicate what’s going on in his best mate’s head. It’s clear that he’s astonished by the shift in his demeanor.     “I’m gonna ignore the urge to ask you who you are and where my friend is,” the Southerner chuckles. “But is it really just her heart you’re scared to break?”     Dean ponders, trying to make sense of the odds and ends that scatter his thoughts. Benny is not entirely wrong. It terrifies the wrangler to give in to these emotions. Is that maybe the true reason why he didn’t kiss Y/N that night under the Joshua tree? Or when she came looking for him after he had that argument with Ash? Maybe it’s a bit of both.     “How long have we known each other? Fourteen, fifteen years now?” Dean recalls.     “Give or take,” Benny confirms, looking down at the trail as he moves his hand over the mane of his horse in order to steer it a little wider around a boulder.     “Do I seem like the kinda guy who does that? Fall for a girl? I liked the way things were, no attachments and all that,” the head wrangler continues, confused.     “That’s the thing about falling in love, Chief. It happens to the best of us and always at a time when you least expect it. It hits you like lightning and you’re toast before you even got a clue why you’re feelin’ so crispy,” Benny says wisely.

    The head wrangler glances at his companion sideways, reading into his words. It almost sounds like the Southerner knows what he’s talking about.     “You’ve been there,” he realizes.     “Oh, I’ve been there. I’ve been beyond falling in love, I loved her with my whole damn heart,” Benny acknowledges, smiling at the memory. “Her name was Andrea. We were both eighteen. She spent the summer with relatives in Louisiana and I was a lost cause from the moment I laid eyes on her. A Greek Goddess, and I ain’t exaggeratin’. She was pretty as a peach! Kind, funny as hell, too.”     “Since she’s ain’t here, I reckon it didn’t end well?” Dean assumes again.     “It didn’t; she went back to Greece and I moved here because everything reminded me of her at home,” his friend tells him.     “You know you just proved my point, right?” the head wrangler says, a hint of triumph in his voice trying to mask the sadness in his eyes. “If love always comes to bite you in the ass, why even bother?”     “‘Cause the heartache ain’t the clue, brother. What I had with Andrea was so good, so pure, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Even if I knew what I know now, how it would end, I would take that plunge again without a doubt in my mind.”     Dean huffs, unable to believe that. “Despite that she left you?”     “Fuck, yeah,” Benny states. “Better to love and to lose, than to not have loved at all.”

    Dean is quiet now. The path narrows and he holds Ted back a little, merging behind Benny’s horse. As he lets his friend’s words sink in, he glances down the slope at the intern again. She’s several yards down the steep hill, focused on Joplin as she rides her up the trail. Her braided hair already has strands peeking out from under her hat, and he is sure if she had a mirror she would fix the mess, but he loves it. He loves it when the wind rustles her locks, or when the desert dust smudges her skin. Once again that feeling overcomes him, the feeling of a lantern being lit in the pit of his stomach, warming his body as it slowly rises through his core to his chest, where the heat lingers. It feels so good, but there’s a catch to the sensation. It comes with the emotion that creeps up on him when he lays awake at night thinking about Y/N; fear. The fear of her leaving him after her internship. The fear of her reaction if he would let her witness the scar tissue that lays thick on his soul. The fear that this love will consume him, just like the love for Mom consumed his father. The fear of failing her. But now that the true meaning of Benny’s message dawns on him, another kind surfaces. It’s a thought that he hasn’t had before, and as it pops into his head, the question reverberates louder through his mind than all the others. What if he misses his chance? What if there are only so many opportunities to win her over?

    He straightens himself before she looks ahead and spots him staring, and he closes his eyes and tips his hat forward. Shit, you’ve been so worried about losing her that you forgot that in order to lose her, you have to have her first, he thinks to himself. A sigh slips from his dry mouth, reminding him how thirsty he is. He reaches for his water bottle from his saddlebag, pulls out the cap with his teeth and gulps down the water, knocking his head back as he takes a few swigs. Nope, he’s not dehydrated. In fact, he’s still having these contradicting thoughts. When he slips the bottle back where he took it from, his eyes wander down the path again, this time looking straight into hers. As he tries to decide on his next move, he holds her gaze as she smiles up at him. Dean wasted two shots already; what if it’s three strikes, you’re out? If he fucks this up, at least he tried, but if he won’t give this a try at all, he’ll beat himself up over it for the rest of his life. Either way, failure seems to be inevitable.

    Then he remembers something. Something that he was taught at a very young age. He had just turned four when he took a fall off the neighbor’s Shetland pony. It was the first time he had rode alone without his mom holding the miniature horse and the naughty pony took advantage of that situation. The Shetland picked up speed and bucked once, sending him straight into the dirt. After making sure that her son was okay, he recalls his mom picking him up.     “You wanna give it another go?” she asked.     “No…” he said.     “So that’s it? You never wanna ride again?” she questioned again, her voice gentle.     Now he was quiet, not sure how to answer that. “I don’t wanna fall off,” he mumbled eventually, looking down at the ground.     “Falling is a part of riding, sweety. It’s a part of life. It’s okay to fall,” she told him.     “But it hurts,” he said, rubbing his scraped elbow. “And it’s scary.”     “Yeah, sometimes falling can be very scary,” Mom acknowledged. “But you won’t get any better if you stop trying. You have to face what you’re scared of, to grow. You know what they say about falling?”     He shook his little head, waiting for the elaboration patiently.     “You have to fall off seven times before you'll become a good rider,” she says.     “Seven?!” he repeats, eyes wide.     “Seven,” Mom pointed out. “But you know how he becomes a great horseman?”     Dean shook his head again and listened eagerly. All that he wanted was to become a horseman, so this was the time to pay attention.     “A good rider becomes a great horseman when he falls seven times and gets up eight.”

    The wise words always stuck with Dean as he grew older. He remembers when he was twelve and got back to his feet after his seventh crash landing, this time from a young bronc. He was a horseman now, because he got up beaming, and brushed the dirt from his jeans. Every time when life beat him down, he did the same. Sadly, Mom wasn’t there to see her son become a horseman. She was long gone by the time he reached that age, but her life lessons will never be forgotten. Life is filled with setbacks. No one walks this journey without encountering them. For some that one setback is enough reason to give up and never become good at anything, for others, it’s a way to push through. And yes, getting up and trying again is not easy. But Mom taught him to look fear in the eye and get back in the saddle anyway, because quitting will definitely not get him anywhere. Whenever he hit the ground, literally or metaphorically, he would think of that memory. Now is no different. Mom was right; he has to face what scares him in order to grow.

    Dean slows down his horse, pulling the bit just enough to stop Ted, giving the horse behind him a chance to catch up. When Joplin comes alongside, he glances at the rider from under his Stetson.     “Hello, Cowboy,” she greets, a small but delighted smile on her lips.     Dean chuckles at that, his eyes not leaving hers.     “Hey, beautiful,” he returns.     The compliment brightens her eyes even more and heats up her cheeks. The trail barely allows the two of them to ride side by side, their stirrups touching occasionally. He aches for her knee to brush his like he would crave rain after a long desert ride. When the denim of her jeans does rub against him, it leaves him electrified. And then he realizes that Benny is right, too. It is better to love and to lose, than to not have loved at all.

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Read part eleven here