#it's been less than a week since i sowed these seeds

[ms-hells-bells]

my liddle baby has germied :]

[lya-dustin]

Someone will remember us

Chapter 62

Cw:hormonal imbalance, teen motherhood, death and mentions of infidelity

Taglist: @stargaryenx @mercedesdecorazon

Gif by: @targaryensource

She wants him dead.

She wants him to pay for her father’s murder, but they cannot do that.

Patience has never been one of Aemma’s virtues, but life sure loves to make her wait.

Mother had known the truth since Teora’s funeral eight moons ago and done nothing.

“Why do you let him go unpunished?” she had asked only to be reminded that she is merely a mirror of her mother.

“The same reason you do not want Aemond to be punished.” She had said in tears.

Both in love with men who the law and reason tells them cannot live.

“I hope he fucking dies.” Aemma mutters as she goes and sees the shitshow known as the Sowing of the Seeds.

Turns out infidelity was incredibly common for Targaryens.

Mushroom was not the only Dragonseed here, nor his own children the ones boasting of descent from Jaehaerys.

Despite the many, many warnings given to those who do not have dragon’s blood, many still try to mount a dragon.

A dragon is not a horse.

Even if there are myths and stories about non-Targaryens claiming dragons, those are unlikely to happen in magic-less places like Westeros.

“Addam?” Jace asked looking at Addam and Alyn Waters with jealousy. Addam had claimed Seasmoke at grandfather’s suggestion and on the first try the rowdy gray dragon had claimed him.

Aemma had received the worst of news ever since she had given birth a month ago.

First, grandmother dies despite their attempts to cheat the Stranger, second, that Daemon killed her father and mother has known for most of the year and thirdly, that they have not just one brother, but two.

Even mother was shocked with that last one, especially because Addam was a dead ringer for father.

Well, Addam was their brother, Alyn was possibly Daemion’s, or Uncle Roger’s or uncle Malentine’s. Marilda of Hull was not sure, but all assumed Alyn was their brother as well.

Joffrey had accepted them, Baela found four- and ten-year-old Alyn handsome enough to make Jace jealous and only she and Jace knew the threat they were to them.

Alyn was of an age with Baela and Rhaena, Addam was only two weeks older than Aemma. Even worse, grandfather had suggested legitimizing them and to her horror, mother had agreed.

Addam and Alyn came after Joffrey in the line of inheritance, Rhaena was expected to marry Addam when the war was over like a fucking hand me down.

“Daemon, he killed our father.” She whisperers and Jace goes as white as his shirt.

“What?” it comes out strangled, and suddenly they are little children who have just been told father is dead.

“He paid Correy to kill him, grandfather confronted him when they were standing vigil for grandmother. Mother knows, grandmother told her the day of Teora’s funeral.”

“What does grandfather say, when are we to bring him to justice?” he asks with a pained look in his face.

Daemon was like a third father to him, he was Baela’s father and their younger brother’s as well, but tradition and law said he must die.

“He is to die fighting Aemond over the God’s Eye, rather poetic if you think about it.” She tries not to sound hopeful because part of her wants Aemond to survive that duel.

“Two kinslayers taking each other to hell, gods, I envy Aemond only because he gets to kill him.” Jace said surprising her.

He was like Harwin, too easy going and friendly to think capable of such dark words.

And yet, Harwin, good old Harwin who reminded her of their favorite hunting dog, was a warrior. A warrior just like Jace is.

A warrior who had taken grandmother’s plans and fine tuned them with the help of Aemma’s visions.

He will be her hand when the time comes. Only he can run Westeros the way they want to.

Aemma had seen Steffon Darklyn be burned and snacked on by Seasmoke, the dragon keeper named Hilda be killed by Vermithor after she tried to mount him and seen a shepherd girl named Nettles tame Sheepstealer by continuing the work her mother had done by offering him sheep every time they crossed paths.

Nettles was Daemon’s daughter.

Her mother had met Daemon who studied dragons on his spare time and both had struck up an affair after he succeeded in wooing the young woman who’s parents had been bought and freed by Corlys himself in the summer islands.

Mother had wanted to kill him, Baela as well because Nettles had supplanted her in his affections just like Addam and Alyn had supplanted Jace in Corlys’.

There are cheers and as the blacksmith’s bastard son is claimed by Vermithor.

The blacksmith was the son of Baelon or Aemon, no one was sure which prince had fucked Hugh the Hammer’s grandmother. Some say she was shared by both princes and even their wives.

Unlike Ulf the Sot who claimed Grey Ghost after boasting that his grandmother was Saera Targaryen and could prove it because his mercenary father had pressed his claim at the Great Council in 101.

And because Silverwing is hers, Aemma has had to get a wetnurse for Aemon and throw herself into training.

She was to have Hugh the Hammer as her sworn shield given how often their dragons coil, but in the off chance that he was not available, Aemma needed to be able to hold her own in a fight.

She hated it and had cried as the midwife had bound her breasts and Baela had laughed at her misery until Aemma told her the Sara Jace fucked was Sara Snow.

Now Baela flirts with Alyn of Hull and Aemma has forgotten to tell Jace why she is doing that.

“The last dragon has been claimed! We will feast to the bravery of these men and women and our enemies will know their days are done!” Daemon raised Hugh the Hammer’s arm in the air as those gathered cheered at their assured victory.

Only four people had died and ten injured, most of them commonfolk claiming descent from Maegor the Cruel.

Not bad, definitely not the bloodbath she had seen as she had taken Aemon for his first flight.

The new dragonriders are given places of honor, and with the exception of her new ‘nephews’ they stick out like sore thumbs.

“They are wearing Velaryon sigils.” Alarra looks ready to murder her goodbrother. “Have you no respect for your late wife?”

Five and ten years ago, Corlys had gotten in row with Rhaenys who blamed him for Laena’s elopement with a man who murdered his previous wife and fucked a young Rhaenyra after getting her drunk at a brothel.

Five and ten years ago, Vaemond had found his brother drunk and fucking Marilda the Mouse who according to rumor would open her legs for any man that paid her any attention.

Alyn was his, just as Addam was Laenor’s, but Rhaenyra agreed on the lie that both were Laenor’s because Laenor never repudiated the three boys she bore.

Poor Jace can’t help his jealousy and Aemma’s moods had not yet recuperated from the imbalance caused by pregnancy.

Joffrey adored his new brothers and Baela ran the risk of fucking her uncle, much like her stepsister and stepmother.

“They are Velaryons, Alarra, they will be treated as such.” Corlys said coolly and Alarra decided she would speak to her husband and see if he had any seashells strewn about the sand.

If he has any, she will kill him, stuff his Leviathan down his throat and leave him for the crabs.

She would avenge her honor Celtigar style and if Rhaenys’ spirit wished for it as well, she would be very happy to do the same to the man sitting beside her.

“How did your charges take it?” he asks now showing concern to his real family.

“Aemma dislikes the notion of them coming directly after Joffrey in the succession, Baela hates that Rhaena is being given to Addam like a hand me down and Jace feels left out as he believes that you do not love him as a grandfather should now that you have ‘real grandsons’.” Alarra quite enjoyed the look of guilt in his face.

Corlys had taken to the Strong Lads as if they were his own and not once regretted it, now the world could see he showed a clear preference for the Hull boys for actually having his blood.

“How do you suppose I fix this, goodsister?” he asked as he finally turned his attention to said grandchildren.

“Speak to them, write to Rhaena and ask her for her thoughts and opinions regarding this marriage you are pushing for and remember Jacaerys and Joffrey are your heirs not, them.”

[short-hot-stories]

Cougar Diaries: In Command

In Command. Jilted wife finds her youth & sexual confidence.

In 2 parts, by mjar65 . Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. 

I decided I needed to switch to a different gym. It was further from home but I was starting to wonder what Ryan was thinking after our two nights of debauchery. He was more than twenty years my junior and I didn’t need a young man trailing around after me.

On the other hand, I was even more certain that “lots of fucking” was exactly what I required. I really didn’t know how to go about it. I was sure I could go out somewhere and let men “pick me up”. But that seemed so sleazy and a little dangerous. I knew about “dating” websites and I decided to try a couple. Well, in the first few days I was overwhelmed with replies and offers. It was too much to manage. I needed to find a way to narrow down my search.

I already knew the term “cougar”. I don’t like that term at all and I hate the idea that anyone would think of me that way. It’s a way of “shaming” women who go looking for sex – as if its OK for a man to “sow his seed” but a woman should wait till asked.

Looking at the men who had propositioned me online, I decided I wanted someone younger than me - again. It made sense. I’d been excited and validated by Ryan and his desire for me. I didn’t need to be brave, I needed young guys who were so horny for sex they would ignore my age. Or who were so young they could not resist my cleavage!

I was going to choose a younger man. Maybe not as young as Ryan this time – that seemed excessive. But I told myself I definitely wanted to avoid men like my husband who were lazy and sated from years of easy, married life. Younger men would be more horny, more eager to enjoy themselves. I wanted intense, passionate sex and I knew I’d be more likely to find that with men who were not in their forties. Why settle for an older, lazy man when I could pick a young guy, full of lust and energy and with a beautiful, hard prick to fill me up?

I found a man who called himself Naz – a good looking man who looked Lebanese and has a nice smile. He is aged twenty-six and he boasted about his sexual prowess. That was the real reason I chose Naz - I admit I was attracted to his cockiness and his confidence that he could “give me a good time”. The quality of his technique was less important than having a young man who couldn’t keep his hands off me. I was banking on his passion, his lust for sex with me, being enough to get me off nicely. Naz even sent me a picture of his cock and I smiled at the thought of him eagerly thrusting it into me.

Yes, I was well aware that this method of finding my “cure” carried its own dangers. I suspect that the danger actually heightened the thrill. I don’t really know how to describe what I was thinking. Something had come over me. It was several weeks since I’d had a man in my bed and many long months before that. I had needs and I didn’t want to wait. I was prepared for the risk. I was prepared to be disappointed.

We had a first chat on-line and I got to see some more of his smile. I could see he was still so young but that only served to make my body stir. I wanted this one and there’d be no guilt about it.

As for Naz, his cockiness came through straight away. Some people would have found it a turn-off, but not me. Naz asked me to undress or to show my breasts to him. I already knew that we was lusting after my boobs and that made it easier for me. I was enjoying the raw needs of an immature male. He wanted me badly but the funny thing was that I still felt in control. So I declined his invitation to bare my breasts. Naz was undeterred and stripped off on camera, proudly letting me see his cock. He was half erect, which was the right way to impress me. I did ask him how many girlfriends he had had and he said more than a dozen. But my intuition is pretty good and I am sure he was stretching the truth. Funnily enough, that made me even more keen to have sex with Naz since I knew he’d be almost as keen as Ryan.

A week later he came to my house. Despite lots of masturbation, I was almost desperate for screwing. I was counting on this young stud to perform for me. I had considered the danger of what I was doing. But the idea of a younger guy who was “in heat” for me was just too much. I had that same giddy feeling again and I knew I was going to go through with it.

This time I was wearing a nice dress instead of my silk robe. Naz actually was a complete gentleman and gave me a nice kiss on my cheek and sat patiently in my loungeroom while we talked a little. I would have to make the first move – so I took his hand and invited him upstairs to my bedroom.

The thing about men, especially young men like Naz and Ryan, is how guileless they can be. Naz knew he was there for sex and was quite ready to strip off in front of me while I was watching. I think I started trembling with excitement as I looked at his naked body. He was different to Ryan – softer and shorter and with a thick, manly coat of hair on his chest and around his penis.

Naz kissed me again, on my mouth, and I was impressed with his ability in that department. Then he slowly undressed me. Well, let me say that was a total thrill and I’d never felt something so erotic in my life - a young man, his erection clearly showing, was slowly and gently removing my clothes in the sure knowledge I would have sex with him.

Then Naz did something else. He put his hands on my shoulders and he started to press. At first I thought he wanted to lean on me – now I was showing my lack of experience. He kept pressing until the penny dropped. This young man, practically a stranger, expected me to go to my knees. He wanted me to suck him as foreplay.

Well, I did it! Yes, I did! What an experience. It was oh, so thrilling. No man had ever done that to me - not once in my life. But, like most young guys, Naz had no interest in romance. He was “hot” for me and figured he had permission to use me sexually. Being so cocky, of course he assumed I’d agree to getting on my knees to suck him. I supressed a grin as I let Naz push me down. There was no reason to resist. I felt so alive, with his hard cock right in front of me, so eager for me to pleasure it.

Lucky for me, Naz didn’t have a lot of experience either, so he would not be disappointed if my technique was not up to scratch. I just took hold of him and put him in my mouth. My husband was never much interested in such an act. Now, suddenly, I was an older woman who had a throbbing young penis in her mouth. It was incredibly sexy and I was so excited. I used my hand, too, to stroke his shaft as I felt him get bigger and harder. That was the best part of all! I knew, once more, that there was no turning back.

“Yeah, that’s it Maria,” he said firmly. It seemed my technique was not so bad. “Suck my dick and make me hard. I am going to give you a real fucking tonight.”

I admit I liked hearing him voice his confidence and his lust for me. I was happy to be a sexual conquest for him – I was hungry to be fucked by a man who would be passionate and intense.

Naz put a hand on my head and forced himself further into my mouth. I let him do that. It was intoxicating to be used by a man who was so eager for me.

When he was done, ready for the next act, Naz pushed me on the bed and started groping me. So young and impatient, he grabbed at me and tried to feel me up everywhere at once. My husband had never shown that sort of passion for my body. Naz made me feel so sexy. He squeezed my boobs and pinched the nipples. “Are they fake?” he asked me. I didn’t care about his abrupt manner.

“Yes, I had them done,” I told him, panting my lust.

“Great boob job,” he replied and squeezed them some before he sucked on them. I held his head close to me and stroked his hairy back, just lying there and revelling in the attention he was giving me.

“Your turn,” he said aloud and shuffled down the bed.

He gave me a quick licking on my vagina but his intent was not to make me cum from oral. I soon realised this brief act was only to prepare me for penetration. The cocky young guy was there for a fuck. If only he’d known I didn’t require any further prep – I could feel my soaking wetness. Young Naz was on his knees and using his hand to rub the head of his cock against my vagina.

“Are you ready?” he asked. “Ready to get a fucking?”.

I actually was surprised that a man could be so focussed on the basics of sex play. Thank god for young men! I merely nodded to Naz and let him enter me for the first time. It was only twenty minutes since he had entered my house! I groaned as he split me open. It was the thought of what I was doing even more than the sensation of his dick filling my hole.

He felt so good in my vagina, I knew I’d made the right choice. And he soon was giving me a “real fucking” and I was loving it. I had been right about his cockiness, though. His energy and his confidence made the sex so very intense. He wanted to show me his sexual “power” and I was only too happy to receive it.

I responded immediately to his muscular thrusting – yes, I had dreamed of being fucked with that kind of vigour. Naz kept his hands busy, too. He stroked my tits and pulled on my nipples and I didn’t even care if it hurt a little. He reached down and rubbed my clit as well and, even though he was clumsy, I arched my back as my vagina responded.

Oh yes, I came for that young man, came all over his thick, hard cock as he fucked me in a way I’d yearned for. He even lay on top of me and thrust deep as he held me tight. I could reach down and feel the muscles in his back and his bum as he pumped into me. So much better than middle-aged podge.

Surprisingly, Naz had real stamina and he managed to hold off his own climax even as I exhausted myself with my orgasms. I wanted him to cum but I guessed that he had more sex play in mind for later.

We lay there and talked a little. Given the difference in our ages there wasn’t much to talk about. Naz asked me about my husband.

“I don’t like talking about him,” I explained. “He is not a real man.” I was sure Naz understood what I meant. He asked me about my “boob job” as well and the gym.

I spent some time enjoying the feel of his young body – so different to Ryan and yet still so delightful. He has a lot of body hair and I enjoyed running my fingers through it. Naz admitted he hardly ever went to the gym.

“But you look great,” he said to me.

I explained about the thousands of squats I had done to keep my butt in shape. So Naz insisted on me rolling over so he could “check it out” and I lay on my bed, breathing deeply, as a young man massaged and kissed my butt cheeks – yes, he kissed my butt!

Naz wanted to fuck some more and, of course, he wanted me to suck his cock first. I was discovering one thing about young men – they really do have a one-track mind! I did it for him and I loved it. He knelt next to me and I turned my head so he could thrust himself into my mouth. He pushed deeper this time and I was afraid of gagging. I don’t think Naz realised as he was too busy showing off what a “great lover” he is.

Then he climbed on top – only one position for this young man. I watched in the mirror as he humped himself on top of me and I felt so turned-on knowing it was my body that he was enjoying. Yes, I came some more – it didn’t matter that his technique wasn’t as fabulous as he’d promised. The raw energy, his lust for me, was enough to guarantee I would climax.

Finally, Naz pulled out of me. I was kind of glad, although in my fevered state I felt like I could take still more of his fucking. He was on his knees again, between my legs. He wasn’t wearing a condom and I suddenly wondered if that was something to fix for next time.

“I want to shoot on you,” he said in a strange voice. I could see the look in his eyes. He wanted to shoot his semen onto my skin. “I want to cum on your big boobs.”

I could tell it was a huge fantasy that he wanted to make true. He’d assumed an older woman would be more relaxed than girls his own age.

I didn’t think. I just nodded, happy to let this excited young man take the lead. I wanted his cum, suddenly I did! And why not let him do that? I’d already decided that I was happy to let this cocky young man treat me like a sex object. I didn’t feel degraded at all that he wanted to treat me like that. I had longed for wild, passionate sex and now I was going to see his stuff erupt from his shiny, wet cock.

Naz stroked himself and shuffled forward. He seemed so far away but then he started grunting and moaning and I knew it was about to happen. Oh hell, young men ejaculate with so much force. The shots of his stuff flew over me and I was amazed at the sensations as they splashed right onto my boobs. It was a display of the power of a young man that he could cover me with his precious fluid like that. Its true that I did feel a little depraved and it was so, so hot. What was more, the look on his face was priceless.

On that night with Naz I knew I’d been right. Younger guys have the energy for sex that I crave. After my husband’s lame interest in making love to his wife, it was a revelation to find younger, sexier men who feel real lust and real passion – for me! I don’t have to wait for them, they want sex and they want to fuck me and they want to do all the things they fantasise about. It was fantastic!

Oh, and did I mention their dicks? The young man’s penis is an amazing object, hard and throbbing. Its almost alive, twitching and pulsing as my fingers and tongue caress the shaft and spurting out its sticky white loads for me. I was hooked.

I also got the courage to tell my girlfriends. They were excited and a little impressed. I didn’t tell them everything – I lied about his age and how I’d found Naz – but I told them enough to earn their admiration. Not that I needed it since I’d already decided to invite Naz over again.

I made him wait two weeks. I wore the same dress but this time without underwear. I didn’t wait for him to push me down. After enjoying his kissing for a while, I slipped to my knees and started tugging at his pants. There was no need to wait for him to “force me” because I was just too excited and eager to show how much I wanted his penis. I know guys love a woman going to her knees – except for my husband I guess – and I love it almost as much.

I was not surprised to find his cock already hard for me. The other thing I’d remembered about young men was how easily they get aroused and how often their cocks are standing at attention. I found myself fascinated by his manhood, trying to memorise every detail of its shape and its lovely ridges. That was one thing I guess I’d forgotten - all cocks are different.

I took my time, or tried to, but Naz was eager and insisted on thrusting himself into my mouth. That was the lust I’d been looking for. So I had no complaint about his rough use of me. When we were on the bed and he was sucking on my tits I knew I wanted to steal some extra pleasure for myself. He was the “great lover” but I could still point him in the right direction.

“Finger me?” I asked him.

Being so eager, so cocky, Naz didn’t hesitate and I pulled his head closer as he began to force two fingers up into my vagina. It felt so good for another reason. Many times I’d masturbated while I imagined a man sucking my nipples. Naz went hard and quick and I thought me might damage me but, oh my, it was a total turn-on! I came around his fingers, my muscles squeezing down hard.

Naz took that as a sign I was ready for his cock and quickly mounted me. What can I say? The truth is that wanted him just as badly. All I had to do was let him enter me and start thrusting. My whole body was on fire. And Naz was a more than adequate lover.

He did something new and exciting as well – suddenly he grabbed at my ankles and lifted my legs up as he thrust into me. Yes, I knew all about this but my lovers had rarely tried it with me. My legs are so short. I could not remember the last time a man had done that and it was an incredible thill as this younger guy poured out his lust and used me how he wanted. I moaned aloud to urge him on and he went harder and deeper until I was crying out my explosion.

Later, for our second round, Naz was keen on first shoving his dick into my mouth. I actually wanted that myself. It was easy to let him feel he was in charge but I really did want to feel his hard shaft on my tongue – it was certain to make me even hornier for screwing. I muttered to Naz about entering me from behind. I’d enjoyed it with Ryan and I’d been imagining how this cocky young man would take me in that position.

He was so excited. “You want to go doggy? Yeah, roll over like a little bitch for me.” I had to force myself not to laugh.

Oh yes, this young man really did think with his dick – I liked it. My husband had never shown so much enthusiasm for screwing as this guy did. There was no escape! I felt like in a dream as he held my hips tight and fucked me fast and rough. Eager to show me his prowess, young Naz drove hard into my vagina. His swollen young cock felt so good inside me. I stole a look in the mirror and saw someone, me, being humped hard and deep like an animal. Yes, I loved it!

Naz wanted to finish by shooting his stuff on my skin again but, in a flash, I had another idea. I suggested finishing him with my mouth.

“You want to do that?” he asked me, almost disbelieving. “You are a hot lady.”

I wondered if his girlfriends usually denied him such pleasures but, as an “older woman”, I had no reason to do that.

Quickly I turned around, on my side in front of him. He knelt next to me, his young cock looking ready to burst. I was a little amazed at how it glistened with a thick coating of my wetness. Barely waiting for me, he thrust into my mouth. He was impatient for me to finish him, shoving with his hips and only moments from unleashing all his stuff into my mouth. I didn’t care if it was degrading. I was ready to behave like a slut now with my new freedom. I was liberated and determined to enjoy it to the full.

When he came, he pumped over and over and I found myself excited afresh by the raw intimacy of the act. I had to swallow several times to get everything down, thinking of the years I had been denied this satisfaction and happy to be making up for it.

I was ticking off my list of sexual items. I suppose there was a list in my head. I couldn’t tell you what was on it exactly. Mostly it was acts or pleasures I’d imagined for years or been denied by my husband who was, all said and done, a boring lover. I’d started peeking at porn to see what other people like to do in bed. That’s where I’d gotten the idea with these young men of taking their dicks straight from my vagina, into my mouth.

I’d surprised myself with how wet I could get during sex. I was convinced that it was younger men who held the key to that. I can be in charge – even with a cocky lad like Naz. I don’t have to feel intimidated or admit my own inexperience. And it that they all wanted to screw me with the kind of energy and passion I’d been craving.

The next question was – what’s next? After that night, I didn’t want Naz to become a regular like he was a new boyfriend. I was more interested in finding another man who would want to take me to bed and have more incredible, passionate sex. Yes, I was ready to add another notch to my belt. I had to decide how to find such a man.

In the meantime, I called Ryan. “I thought you were ignoring me,” he said a little plaintively.

I turned that aside by saying I’d thought he was spending time with some girls his own age. “I still want you,” he told me. I knew it was true.

There were so many things I wanted to try and to experience. I knew with Ryan I could easily ask for those things. We started the next night with me giving him a long headjob. I think I love all cocks, to be honest, and Ryan’s is no exception. Its longer than the model I had to use during those long years of marriage. Against his slender body it always looks so thick and impressive. The head is big and fat and so soft.

I took my time to lick his shaft and his balls. I got on my knees between his legs and stroked him and licked him. Of course he loved it, but really I did it for me. After all those years I was finally able to take my time and savour all of it, to explore a man and feel the ridges and bumps of the veins on his cock. It was fun watching his cock twitch and his balls move as I stroked and licked him. What I liked best was the glistening pre-cum he produced – a steady stream of glistening, sticky stuff that I could roll on my tongue or with my fingers.

A few times I took him in my mouth, trying to swallow as much as I could fit. I knew about “deepthroating” but had no idea how to go about it. I just knew that I loved the feeling his hardness on my tongue and the way he throbbed.

“If you keep doing that,” he warned me with a groan, “I’ll cum before we even start.”

It was hard to stop – for years I’d not been permitted to enjoy myself like that. But he was right and, besides, I was going crazy with my own lust.

No need to guess what was next – I “allowed” Ryan to go down on me and put his mouth on my vagina. I told him to take his time and make me cum properly. With more practice, I was sure he’d become very proficient at pleasuring me. And, hell, I was extra keen for pleasure that night.

“Will you use your fingers in me?” I asked him softly.

As always, he was happy to oblige and I almost exploded as he used two fingers to penetrate me. For the first time in years my clit was being licked while my vagina was filled. I was almost beside myself. He got me off so well that I am sure the neighbours could hear me.

After we fucked I made him cum with my hand. I had him on his back and I gave him my best handjob. I was not totally innocent in my younger years and two boyfriends had tutored me in that skill. The best thing was that I’d not lost my talent. It was exciting and naughty to be the older woman stroking his cock. The way he felt in my hand was just amazing as he throbbed and pulsed. I remembered how to give the most pleasure and I made him moan and groan his desire for release. Finally I allowed him to cum and Ryan shot so hard that he got it all over his stomach and my hand. I remember laughing because I was so happy to have the freedom for such things.

Of course, I waited for him to get hard again and then we fucked some more. We used the “doggy” position again and this time I urged Ryan to take me a little harder. His thrusting felt great - forceful and eager. I could feel him through my entire body as he gave me a proper pounding with his cock. I had to shove my face into the pillows to muffle the noises of my massive orgasms. It was a fabulous thing to be so sexually open and to make a man so turned-on.

by mjar65 for Literotica.

[corkcitylibraries]

Cork City Libraries Sustainability Blog | Sow…Let’s Grow!

A Time to Plan

I must admit, that although I may come across in these blogs as a seasoned professional (or at least I hope I do!), my garden has not been given the tender love and care it deserved during October. I went out, almost afraid to look last week, for fear that I would be faced with a plant graveyard instead of a garden and yet lo and behold, everything was all right! As my garden exists entirely in pots some had become slightly waterlogged but that was the extend of the damage. Nature is incredibly good at regulating herself and bearing this in mind I turned around and headed back indoors to plan out next year’s logistics – sometimes all the garden needs is to be left alone.

Planning what you’re going to plant in the garden is not for everyone and by no means is it essential, but I find it helps to at least take note of what has grown and thrived in your garden and what struggled or failed to grow at all, to prevent more disappointment a year down the line. For example, muscaria and daffodils thrive in my garden, I planted them once and they have flowered every year since, however I have had less success with tulips, so I don’t think I’ll buy any more of those. Whether you are a seasoned planner or are only just starting out we have plenty of books available to borrow on the subject, such as Your Gardening Year by DK Publishing and The Gardener’s Year Made Easy by Which? to mention but a few.

National Allotments and Community Gardens Conference

At the end of October, I was fortunate enough to attend the first ever National Allotments and Community Gardens conference held in The Glen Sports and Resource Centre. There were people from Tidy Towns committees, Seed Libraries, and enthusiastic gardeners galore, coming from as far as way as Omagh and it was wonderful to see. We were given a tour of The Glen community garden where questions were encouraged and Barry Hickey, who looks after the garden, was more than happy to provide advice. This garden is unique in the fact that it has partnered with the HSE and many of the groups come from HSE-run services like Rehabilitation programmes, Mental Health and Wellbeing for adults and children, and people involved with Probation services. In densely populated areas like these, it is even more important to have access to green spaces and home-grown food as it can make all the difference to the lives of the people who live there.

After lunch, we were brought to the Togher Community Garden where we could wander around and peruse the tea and cake table. Although the garden is relatively new at just two years old, they have wasted no time and the space is impressively filled with raised beds, a green house, a pond, and massive compost bays. This garden focuses on healthy, home-grown food and they have even grown amaranth, a staple food in South and Central America. Many children in the area experience a disconnect from the food on their plates and where it comes from, and this community garden aims to change that. Children from South Lee Educate Together are regular visitors to the garden and the Ballyphehane Men’s Shed also put a lot of work in. It was absolutely wonderful to see so many enthusiastic and committed people giving their time to projects within the community.

If you want to find out more about these community gardens you can find them on Facebook or you can find out more about The Glen at https://glencentre.ie/secondary-schools/ .If neither of these community gardens are close to you why not try one of the other 24 community gardens that are dotted all across Cork City? We here at Hollyhill Library are trying to do our bit by maintaining our seed library and encouraging people to grow their own. Members of the library can ‘borrow’ up to four packets of seeds in the hope that they will save the seeds and bring them back to us the following year. We also take donations of unused seed packets as we strive to be as sustainable as possible.

[e-m-christina]

Can't Have Both - Rick Grimes

Requested: Yes

Pairing: Rick Grimes x Fem Reader

Summary: When the group was brought into Alexandria, the last thing Y/n thought she had to worry about was if her husband, Rick, had fallen in love with the hairdresser next door.

Warnings: Slight angst, smut, some fluff, breakdown of communication, Rick being an oblivious dumbass, Daryl being a protective older brother.

Word Count: 3.2K

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

MASTERLIST - - REQUESTING INFO

It all started when a pretty blonde woman turned up on your doorstep, offering to cut your husband's hair.

Golden rays of afternoon sunshine pooled through the kitchen window, illuminating your working area whilst you prepared Carl's lunch. Just when you turned the heat up on the stove, the chiming sound of the doorbell rang through the house, alerting you to the presence of someone outside.

You thought this was odd because people usually just barged in without any warning (and some, like your brother Daryl, left muddy tracks in their wake so you could tell who had been in your home uninvited).

"Can you get that darling?" You turned to face Rick. "I don't want Carl's soup to boil over."

Rick merely nodded and quickly disappeared around the corner to greet whoever was waiting outside. A few moments later, you heard the click of the lock being undone and the hair-raising creek of the door being opened.

Oiling the hinges had been on the bucket list every since you arrived a few weeks back, but you still hadn't gotten around to it because you were busy looking after other people's kids in the daycare with Carol and Rick was always out 'doing his duty' as sheriff.

You could just make out the sound of Rick's voice over the bubbling pot of soup beside you, which was soon followed by the melody of a woman's laugh. Her voice rang clear and smooth as she said something about... scissors?

"My kit is back home, but I'd be more than happy to give you a trim - you know, like a housewarming gift, except instead of casserole you get a haircut." You heard the lady say through the wall, which was then accompanied by Rick's chuckle.

It was an unusual but thoughtful gesture, you thought. Besides, you supposed it would make Rick happy since he has been complaining about his mop of untamable hair for weeks, and he refused point-blank to have any non-professional anywhere near his head ever since the Prison when Maggie accidentally set the shaver setting too high and buzzed a stripe through the centre of his head.

---

Throughout the following few weeks, you noticed a gradual change in Rick. He seemed to grow distant and less affectionate. At first, you put it down to the stress of his new job as sheriff - he would be out from six in the morning and would come back at eight o'clock at night, drained and half-asleep.

Multiple times you tried to get him to take a day off and rest, but he insisted that he had to perform his duty and protect the Alexandrians. Deciding it was futile to argue any further, you dropped the subject and opted to just hope that a bolt of lightning would strike some sense into Rick before he worked himself to death.

It was a few days later when you finally connected the dots. When you finally pieced the story together - and you did not like the outcome:

You were crouched over a planting bed, grime smeared all over your clothes and your face dripped with sweat as the sun scorched your back. You had been sowing tomato seeds into the fertile soil for over two hours, and at long last, the end was in sight. A groan escaped your lips as you stood up and stretched, popping your stiff joints.

You glanced up at the sun and guessed it was around three o'clock judging by its position. You gathered up your belongings and made for the daycare to help Carol get the kids back home.

That was another topic you and Rick were discussing - kids. Ever since you began helping out at the daycare, you longed to have a kid of your own, it seemed to be an ache in your chest that grew stronger every time you stepped into the daycare classrooms to see the bright little faces smiling up at you.

You wanted someone to love, hold, and protect. Yes, you helped raise Carl and you loved him with your whole heart, but he wasn't yours. Not really. Yet ever since Rick started working longer hours, he did not seem interested in the topic of kids anymore. Each time you brought up the topic, he would brush it off or say 'we can talk about it tomorrow' but he never would.

As you made your way up the steps of the daycare, you heard an all too familiar laugh echo through the street. When you turned to look behind you, a heavy feeling formed in your stomach. There was Rick, laughing with his full chest. His blue eyes were bright and crinkled at the corners, he no longer looked tired, drained and annoyed.

What made your stomach drop was the fact that beside him stood Jessie, her silky blonde hair was tied back and she was gripping Rick's arm as she laughed along with him. Jessie's little boy Sam was skipping along beside them and was in the process of demonstrating how his paper plane worked.

They looked like a happy family. Rick looked happy.

It felt like a brick wall of enlightenment slammed straight into your face. How did you not see it before, when everything seemed so obvious now? All the pieces fell into place. You did not want to think about what that could mean, it was too heartbreaking, but one question kept repeating in your mind: Did Rick still love you?

---

More days passed and you continued to brood over your suspicions. When you questioned Rick about what he was doing every day, he would just say he was working and would completely gloss over the part where he would walk Jessie and Sam back home every day after daycare.

You only found out about this when Carol informed you, and of course, this sent alarm bells ringing in your mind. You began to question yourself - were you just being jealous? Or was there something else going on? And once again, that damn question lingered in the back of your mind: Did Rick still love you?

Each time you passed by Jessie's house on your way to work, you could feel your chest tighten. You once liked the hairdresser, she was nice and kind and always looked out for Carl. But now the mere thought of her left a bitter taste in your mouth. And the worst part of it all was how nice she acted towards you. She would flash her perfect white smile at you when you walked by and acted as sweet as an angel. It would have made your brooding so much easier if she acted like a bitch.

Hell, maybe you were just jealous of her, after all, she had everything you didn't. Jessie was flawless, she had smooth skin that seemed to glow in the sunlight, silky hair, a bright smile and pretty eyes, two sons of her own and the thing that hurt you most of all - the affection and attention of your husband.

It was hard to miss how Rick's face would light up at the mention of Jessie's name, or how he had that glint in his eyes when he talked to her, the same glint that he used to have when you began dating.

You spent too many nights lying awake next to your husband, with silent tears dripping down your cheeks at the thought that he was slipping away, right through your hands and you couldn't do anything to stop it. Despite all that you had been through with Rick, all the hardships, losses and breakdowns, you felt for the first time that you weren't important to him anymore.

And that is how you found yourself on your brothers' doorstep one early morning. You had gotten into a fight with Rick the night before and he had disappeared all night. You could guess where he probably crashed for the night.

You raked a hand through the mess of hair that you didn't bother to comb and knocked three times. You weren't sure what you were even going to say, all you knew was that you needed some big brotherly love. Within a few moments, you heard footsteps approach and the door swung open.

"What the hell do ya' want at this time in the morn-" Daryl paused midsentence when his eyes landed on your tear-stained and sleep-deprived face. "Y/n? Wha's the matter?"

Your own voice betrayed you and all you could manage to string together was an incoherent jumble of words. Before you could even attempt to pull yourself together, you were engulfed in a bone-squeezing hug. You closed your eyes and clutched onto your brother's (rather mucky) shirt.

"S'pose you'll want to come in an' talk?" Daryl said, swaying you from side to side slightly. You managed a muffled 'yeah' before pulling back.

"C'mon in, and take a seat," Daryl said, closing the door before leading you towards the living room. "Tell me who I need ta' bloody up."

---

You sat perched at the edge of the sofa and watched as Daryl paced around the room, muttering profanities under his breath. You began to question whether or not it was a good idea to vent to Daryl about your concerns because he looked like he could murder a man twice over.

"That prick. He better not be doin' what ya' think he is or I'll send him to meet J.C myself." Daryl fumed, coming to a stop in front of you.

"I hope not either." You looked down at your hands. You really hoped you were just overthinking everything.

"I'll sort him out," Daryl said finally, and you shot your head up with wide eyes.

"What are you going to do?" You asked, eyeing your brother with slight hesitation.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"If he is actually a cheatin' bastard, I'll knock his teeth out. If he's not and this is all a misunderstanding, I'll slap him for making my little sister upset."

"Right," You said slowly. "Please don't be too, you know...harsh?"

The only response you got was a grunt and a mumbled 'see ya' later' before Daryl made his way out the front door.

--

You were sitting on the edge of your bed, eyes flicking to the clock that seemed to be moving in slow motion. It was nearing midnight and Rick was still not home. All sorts of possibilities crossed your mind, and you just prayed Daryl hadn't made you a widow.

A yawn wracked your body and you could feel your heavy eyelids begin to droop. Deciding that you had waited up for Rick long enough, you stood up and grabbed a fresh shirt and shorts and laid them on your bed before heading towards the shower.

You thought a nice hot shower before going to bed would calm your ragged nerves.

You stripped off your garments and left them strewn across the bathroom tiles whilst you waited for the water to heat up. At last, you stepped into the shower, a sigh escaping your lips when the hot water hit your stiff muscles.

You first started working on your hair. You slathered on shampoo and began scrubbing your scalp and working out any knots, before continuing onto the rest of your body.

Ten minutes later you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in your favourite red towel that Rick had picked up for you on a run a few weeks back. You picked up your dirty clothes and headed out of the bathroom, only to stop dead in your tracks when your eyes landed on the bed.

There was Rick, sitting perched on the end with a bouncing knee and clasped hands. So, Daryl didn't murder him after all. Though, on Rick's cheek, you could see a bruise begin to form.

"Guess you crossed paths with my brother." You said, folding your arms as you glared at the man in front of you.

"Yeah," Rick said, finally meeting your eyes. "Yeah I did."

"And what happened? Where were you? Do you even know how worried Carl was because his dad was missing!" You said, tears pricking your eyes as Rick stood up.

"Y/n, I can explain. I was-"

"Do you know how worried sick I have been? Worried that you are away doing God knows what with her." You cut him off and at last, your tears began to stream down your cheeks. "Do you even love me anymore, Rick? Because if you love Jessie, you can't have us both!"

Rick looked stunned as he stared at you with wide eyes. It seemed to take him a few seconds to register what you said and a look of panic swept his features.

"Y/n, no it's not like that, I swear. Of course, I love you! Of course, I do! You're the only woman I want." Rick urged as he stepped closer and placed a hand on your damp shoulder. "Daryl told me about what you told him and I'm so, so sorry that you felt like that. I never meant to hurt you, ever. I just wanted Deanna and the rest of the Alexandrians to trust us by working hard. I love you."

"And Jessie? Do you love her?" You said, arms still folded, though your glare began to soften.

"No, I don't love Jessie. I was just trying to look out for her and her family because her husband seems to be an absolute asshole to them. As I said, I only love you." Rick said, his pleading blue eyes locked on yours.

"So..." You trailed off, shoulders relaxing. "You still want a family with me?"

"Absolutely." Rick didn't hesitate in answering. "I just want to make sure this place is safe before we have any more little feet running around. God knows Carl has aged me ten years."

A smile ghosted your lips as you pulled Rick into hug. You could feel his whole body relax into you as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"I'm sorry for doubting you, Rick." You said, resting your head against his chest. "And sorry for Daryl punching you."

"You have nothing to apologise for, love. And I had that punch coming anyway." Rick said when you pulled back slightly to inspect his cheek.

"I'm sure the bruising will go down soon." You said and gently pressed your lips against Rick's. His lips felt warm and soft against yours, rendering you breathless. Much to your relief, Rick took control of the kiss by wrapping his strong arms around your waist, pulling your frame flush against his chest. Just as you began to relax into the kiss, Rick pulled away, though only a little. 

"How about I make it up to you?" He whispered into your hot lips.

"I'd like that." You whispered back, forming a faint smirk. Again, Rick's head dipped down and captured your lips in his.

Your breathing got heavier when he began moving his hands down your body, trailing his fingers over your breasts, down your stomach, coming to a stop at the hem of the towel wrapped around your body.

“Can I?” He asked, pulling away from your lips to look you in the eyes.

“Y-yes,” You panted. Your heart skipped a beat when you looked into Rick's eyes - they were dark with lust. He dipped his head down crashing his lips against yours, dragging his teeth over your lip as he used his right hand to undo your towel. You shivered when your damp skin was exposed to the chilly air but soon found yourself pressed against the bed with Rick on top.

His mouth moved against yours expertly, and you began to feel that familiar sensation of anticipation in your lower abdomen as Rick's hands trailed down your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

A gasp escaped your lips when Rick dipped his hand down between your thighs and began to gently circle the little bundle of nerves that made you squirm under his touch.

“So sensitive,” Rick mumbled into your lips, his fingers applying more pressure.

You whimpered, feeling a hot pressure begin to pool in your stomach. When you touched yourself, it never felt nearly as good as Rick’s fingers. You could feel yourself becoming more undone by the second as you began to involuntarily grind your hips against Rick's hand.

“Fuck,” Your fingers dug into the sheets when you felt Rick slip a finger into your core and slowly began to pump it in and out. Rick drank in all your little whines and whispered as he picked up speed and pressure - he was determined to get you to cum. A few moments later, when he was sure you were ready, he inserted a second finger.

Your head rolled back when Rick thrust his fingers at an agonizingly slow pace. You were desperate for more. You began bucking your hips against his fingers, moans falling from your swollen lips, feeling your climax beginning to form.

“I’m so close,” You whimpered, feeling the knot in your stomach begin to uncoil. This spurred Rick on and he began thrusting his fingers harder and faster, feeling your walls clench around them. Within moments, you were a moaning mess. Your legs shook as you felt a hot rush throb through your pussy, soaking Rick's fingers, though he kept pumping them, letting you  ride out your  high. 

"You're gorgeous," Rick groaned, placing sloppy kisses along your jaw. "I need you."

Before you knew it, Rick's clothes were in a crumpled heap next to your towel on the floor, and he was lining up against your entrance. You gasped, feeling his tip push into you. Slowly, Rick began filling you up, stretching your warm walls to fit around his pulsing cock. 

“Tell me when to start,” Rick groaned, gripping your hips as he tried to restrain himself from fucking into you straight away. 

“You can start,” You said and Rick began to move his hips. He started slow, moving in and out with slow, intentional thrusts. The more he pumped in and out of you, the more the discomfort began to dissipate and pleasure began to take its place.

“Oh fuck,” You moaned, digging your fingers into Rick's back. He reached his hand down and began rubbing your clit and you squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of pleasure washed over you. Before long, his hips were slamming into yours, pulling moan after moan from your lips. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Rick moaned, fucking you deeper, turning your moans into cries of pleasure.

“Y-you are so fucking deep,” You moaned. The pressure in your stomach burst when Rick applied more pressure to your throbbing  clit, sending you over the edge in a mess of moans. Your throbbing walls clenched around his cock, but he kept thrusting. 

“I-I’m cumming,” You cried, gripping the sheets as your legs began to shake. Pleasure pulsed through your veins and your eyes rolled back. Within moments, another wave of pleasure began to pulse through you as he pounded into you, leaving you throbbing and overstimulated. 

 "Fuck,” Rick groaned, his thrusts becoming sloppier as his cock began to twitch and stutter. You felt a warmth spread through your core as he came inside you. His hips came to a stop, leaving you both a sweaty, panting, tangle of limbs.

“I think I forgive you now,” A smirk tugged at your lips as your husband collapsed against your chest.

---

Thanks for reading! Remember requests are open. If you want added to a taglist, comment below.

Tagging: @catt-leya

[abeautifulblog]

monsters of the week, and writing that does double-duty

So I was thinking about TWN S1 again, and thinking about the fic I'm working on at present. I'd skipped over a bunch of stuff near the beginning (to get to the good bits faster), so when I revisited it, I wound up making a list of what needed to happen in that early sequence—establishing the character dynamics at play, introducing certain plot points that would come up again later, and sowing the seeds for future conflicts.

And it turned out to be a long list—but I really didn't want to have to write a bunch of new scenes for that part, since it's less interesting (both for me and for readers) than the stuff that comes later.

Which is when you get into the territory of: how do you make one scene do double (or triple, or quadruple) duty?

For instance, the main thing that happens over the course of that sequence is Geralt and Jaskier forming a rapport, which obviously entails them talking and spending time together. (Well. Jaskier’s talking. Geralt’s all but nonverbal at this point in the story.) And since it doesn’t really matter what they’re talking about, just that they are, you might as well use the opportunity to have Jaskier reveal a soon-to-be-crucial bit of his backstory (👌), and why that makes his attitude different from his peers, and the sense of alienation he feels from that (which is going to be Hella Relevant later 👌). And since they’re having this conversation on the clock, the action going on in the background is also demonstrating what Jaskier’s job entails (👌).

Bam. One scene, triple threat. That's what I mean by doing triple duty. When I went down the list brainstorming scenes that could accomplish multiple points at once, I got a checklist of a dozen things condensed into three scenes. Tighter story, and the individual scenes are more interesting than they would have been if they were only doing one thing apiece.

And in a similar way, this is what makes casefiles/monster-of-the-week episodes such a powerful tool for developing characterization. Because they're always operating on at least two levels: what this story means to our victims-of-the-week, and what it means to our heroes.

The victims neither know nor care what Geralt/Dean Winchester/who-the-fuck-ever is going through at that particular moment in their lives—their only concern is that there's a monster, and they need someone who can handle it, full stop. They have their own priorities, their own loved ones, their own tragedies, and a good writer will be able to get audiences invested even in these one-off characters whose lives only briefly overlap with with the protagonists.

Meanwhile, any given MotW episode is also going to have certain resonances for our heroes—to remind them of moments from their own past that they might have preferred to forget, or dredge up their own unresolved traumas, or make them rethink certain assumptions about themselves, or put their values/priorities to the test.

And THIS is the episode where they're forced to confront their daddy issues!

And THIS is the episode where they question whether or not they actually desire the normative lifestyle that they thought they did!

And THIS is the episode where they interact with children and struggle with how they feel about the concept of parenthood!

Seriously—there's a reason why the casefiles/MotW format has been a staple since the invention of radio. It's a really great way to tell a slow story (the gradual reveal of the protagonist's personality/history) while keeping it snappy and interesting to the audience as you go along.

And this is what Geralt needed in S1 of The Witcher—they needed to put him in a variety of different situations (and this would have been the place to deploy the short stories it’s based on), while the overall stakes were still relatively low, and show how he responds to each. “Grouchy and closed-off” may be what they wanted Geralt's overall vibe to be, but he needed moments of contrast too, to make him a complex and well-rounded character instead of a one-note grimdark hero.

(Personally, I think it would have been a lot more meaningful if Geralt had been baffled but receptive to Jaskier's decision to be his friend. (Like he is in the books, apparently.) We've seen how he stoically endures the people who hate and fear him, so how does he respond when someone greets him with open arms? Might that be... a refreshing change of pace for him?)

(I also would have brought in Kaer Morhen and the other witchers sooner, to show what kind of background/upbringing Geralt had and give the audience some context for why he became the sort of man he is—and why it's not cowardice or selfishness to not want to inflict that life on yet another child.)

(OFMD has been going hard on Blackbeard's “I'm not meant to have nice things,” and in witcher fanfic that's a common theme for Geralt too, but it would have been interesting to see it onscreen—to give Geralt that internal conflict between what he wants and what he feels is his duty.)

Honestly, it would not have been hard to write a season of eight self-contained episodes that put Geralt through the full emotional gauntlet -- all while he solves mysteries and hunts monsters -- and it would have given the show a much stronger foundation going forward.

[goodqueenaly]

So the other week I’m on the interwebs and I see someone complaining about GRRM’s long food descriptions in ASOIAF. Ok, I think, that’s the oldest complaint in the book (no pun intended), and I would have just moved on ... but then I noticed the passage that this person picked to make their point:

In the granaries were oats and wheat and barley, and barrels of coarse ground flour. In the root cellars strings of onions and garlic dangled from the rafters, and bags of carrots, parsnips, radishes, and white and yellow turnips filled the shelves. One storeroom held wheels of cheese so large it took two men to move them. In the next, casks of salt beef, salt pork, salt mutton, and salt cod were stacked ten feet high. Three hundred hams and three thousand long black sausages hung from ceiling beams below the smokehouse. In the spice locker they found peppercorns, cloves, and cinnamon, mustard seeds, coriander, sage and clary sage and parsley, blocks of salt. Elsewhere were casks of apples and pears, dried peas, dried figs, bags of walnuts, bags of chestnuts, bags of almonds, planks of dry smoked salmon, clay jars packed with olives in oil and sealed with wax. One storeroom offered potted hare, haunch of deer in honey, pickled cabbage, pickled beets, pickled onions, pickled eggs, and pickled herring.

Something about that choice just stuck in my head. Because of all the long, arguably food porn-esque passages anyone could point to in ASOIAF, I would say this particular one is one of the most deliberate and plot-critical. Out of context it might just look like a long list of food, but in context it works beautifully to underline the conflict of both its own chapter and the greater storyline in which it is found.

So, for context, this passage occurs in “Jon IV” ADWD. In “Jon III”, Jon witnessed the passage through the Wall of the free folk who had been living on the far side since the conclusion of the battle beneath it. It’s not an illogical move in Jon’s mind: better to have a thousand living people on the near side of the Wall who have as much incentive (if not more, given recent personal experience) to fight the Others than a thousand corpses on the far side who will add to the strength of the Others themselves. It is, however, a substantial increase in the population at and around the Wall - Jon notes that there are a thousand free folk in the makeshift camp beyond the Wall - and while Jon agreed to Stannis’ desire to settle the free folk in the Gift, he knows as well as anyone that it is far too late in autumn to expect these people to start tilling the Gift’s lands or raising livestock on it. Likewise, for the moment Stannis and his men are still the (somewhat awkward, certainly so in the mind of Bowen Marsh) guests of the Night’s Watch, expecting to be fed along with everyone else. As Lord Commander, the Wall is Jon’s - which, of course, means that anyone at the Wall (or, more generally, anyone under the Night’s Watch’s jurisdiction) is Jon’s problem. 

As “Jon IV” opens, then, Jon is performing a key role as a Lord Commander - that is, reviewing the Watch’s stores. It is in this review that we find the passage above, but it is not the only one which details the food stored at Castle Black; Jon goes on to note that in “a tunnel as long as Winterfell’s great hall though no wider than the wormways” storing the butchered carcasses of “skinned deer and elk, sides of beef, huge sows ... headless sheep and goats, even horse and bear”. In Jon’s mind, this is “all the meat in the world” and “seems a deal of food”, and probably more than a few readers would at least on first blush agree. GRRM can likely reasonably guess that most of his audience is probably not regularly managing and overseeing the food supply of a sizable (if not as large as it once was) military institution (much less that of a de facto refugee camp). By almost overwhelming the reader with notations of food stores on top of food stores, the author seemingly confirms Jon’s confident review of the status of the Night’s Watch stores; who would ever guess that this much food would not be enough?

That setup in turn gives so much extra punch to Bowen Marsh’s dire conclusion upon his review; “It is worse than I feared”, Bowen Marsh declares, in a tone even gloomier than that of local prophet of doom Dolorous Edd. It seems a jarring, and indeed shocking pronouncement given the lines and lines of food storage the author has written in such keen detail, and the author heightens this reaction by setting the scene inside Jon’s head. Jon, a privileged (despite his bastard status) teenager, sees rows and rows of food and thinks that these stores seem more than adequate stores to last the winter; having lived much of his life in the longest summer in living memory as the acknowledged son of one of the greatest lords in the kingdom, having never had to manage the requirements of a household (much less the Night’s Watch or its new guests), Jon has absolutely no clue what good and bad looks like in the context of food stores. Bowen Marsh, a mature man who seems pretty good at the job of Lord Steward, sees these food stores and worries; he has all the figures in his head about population and food consumption, and so has a very keen idea about what this store means on a practical level for the Watch.

Far from this food description passage being meaningless, this one perfectly adds to the characterization of Jon in ADWD and the heightening tension between Jon and Bowen Marsh. Two of Jon’s goals as Lord Commander - allying with the free folk and assisting Stannis Baratheon (the latter of which isitself a major focus of “Jon IV”) - necessitate that he practically support these parties at the Wall - but in making sure these people are fed, Jon is putting additional pressure on stores which were ideally suited to maintain the Watch itself, a much more limited group, for a 3-4 year winter. The question of food thus becomes a proxy conflict for the political and ideological divide between Jon and Marsh: Jon will not abandon his policies, but he also has no answer to Bowen’s concerns about how everyone will be fed on such insufficient stores - and as Jon either declines to explain (because he himself has no explanation) or fights Bowen’s suggestions (insisting on feeding the free folk and Stannis’ people, refusing to put the men on winter rations), Bowen Marsh has yet another reason to see Jon, eventually, as a danger to the Watch who needed to be stopped. 

[film-in-my-soul]

Prompt: “You never believe me! If I told you right now that I love you, would you even believe me?”

Pairing: Gaon Yohan please

(Ooooo, this could go either way huh? A part of me was very tempted to leave this as unresolved angst. But I'm in a benevolent mood so you may have crumbs of hurt WITH comfort.)

--REQUESTS TEMPORARILY CLOSED--

Yo-han would like to say that he's pleasantly tipsy, pleasantly drunk, but there's nothing quite pleasant about his current state of sobriety or lack-there-of.

He’s leaning back in his desk chair, robe open to expose a deep v of his bare chest while nursing a crystal tumbler of whiskey. It's less than half full and not the first he's had since starting.

When he drinks from it, the amber liquid burns on the way down. He can hardly feel it anymore.

Yo-han’s stare is blank, unfocused somewhere on one of the many bookshelves lining the study walls, he doesn't try to make out titles remember where certain books are. There's a storm raging outside, and blearily, Yo-han finds irony that the weather so perfectly matches the uncomfortable feelings swirling just behind his ribs.

He supposes that this is what it means when people say "you reap what you sow."

Yo-han knows he only has himself to blame. People are like animals, you can condition them to respond in certain ways and that's exactly what he'd done, hadn't he? He’d set up mysteries, truths wrapped in deception and disillusionment. Yo-han had built mistrust into the very foundation of their relationship. His intention hadn't just been subterfuge though, mostly, he'd wanted Ga-on to feel challenged, to listen to Yo-han and not believe, and then be faced with the reality he was right.

So why now, after all that, should he be surprised when the dominos fell in the only way they could.

Yo-han can't even recall, now that his veins are swimming with liquor, how their fight had started. Something over justice? Martyrdom? Ga-on's little cop friend and hypocrite mentor? Just thinking of those possibilities makes him laugh, a short, barking sound that ruefully falls from his lips. And it had been such a good day too until he'd inevitably put his foot in his mouth. Placing a landmine on the ground and then stepping on it, expecting the thing not to blow up in his face.

Most days had been good actually. It had been that way for... weeks now. Maybe the awareness of that, the ease in which he was able to move around his own home, as he'd watched Ga-on teach Elijah how to flip pancakes, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, had spooked him into such thorough self-sabotage.

Yo-han hadn't meant for it to happen like this. He hadn’t meant for it to happen at all. It wasn't even until mid-morning light caught the edge of Ga-on's smile as he'd turned over his shoulder to catch his eye that Yo-han even realized how deeply he’d allowed himself to slide down the slippery slope of feelings. All it took was for the younger man to gesture him over with a cock of his eyebrow and a wave of his spatula and Yo-han’s heart gave a painfully hard thump.

Love.

The roots of that damned emotion had burrowed through the husk of where his heart used to be and refused to be extracted. The funniest part, he realizes only now in hindsight, was that he’d been the one to allow the seed to plant itself. He’d chosen to keep Ga-on close and when all the signs had pointed toward growing sentiment, concern, affection, he hadn’t pushed away hard enough for it to actually be effective. He hadn’t even really tried. Or maybe he had and the stubborn, beautiful man Ga-on is refused to be turned away.

Another laugh comes bubbling up, but when it tumbles out it sounds very close to a sob instead and Yo-han chokes to keep any that might follow inside where they belong. Where he should have kept the words that had caused this whole drunken pity party.

“You never believe me!" his own words are a roar. "If I told you right now that I love you, would you even believe me?”

He doesn't know why he'd even let that question move from his head into the air between them, charged from a shouting match where there could be no victor. The moment that lingers after his unwitting confession sucks the energy out of the room, plunging them into a painfully empty silence. Ga-on had become statuesque by Yo-han’s question and the older used every ounce of control he’d learned throughout his years to make it seem like he’d intended to ask it, intended to spread his chest open and show the most disgusting vulnerable parts of himself.

It had been a fight to keep himself composed, to not look away as everything in Ga-on’s eyes reflected back to him. When he’d opened his mouth, Yo-han hadn’t needed to hear what he was going to say. It was all over his face. He wouldn't.

“Leave.” He knows his tone had been frigid, but that was the intention. Show nothing and they cannot use your weakness against you, and Ga-on would undoubtedly now know that he was Yo-han’s biggest weakness of all.

The fact the younger man hadn’t even tried to protest only reinforced the conclusion Yo-han had drawn. The icing on the cake was that the one time Yo-han would have gladly accepted being punched in the face where otherwise he’d never tolerate it, is the one time he’d manage to upset Ga-on enough that violence wasn’t his first reaction.

Now, Yo-han is sitting, pathetically trying to drown out the grief crawling like insects under his skin.

He’s obviously failed.

Frustration rears up, ugly and furious and Yo-han can’t stop himself from shooting up from his chair, hurtling the glass across the room, watching its trajectory before it hits the wall and shatters with a loud crash.

Yo-han is tired of rotting everything he touches, especially the things that matter.

Once the sudden tantrum is out of his system Yo-han takes stock of his newest destruction.

The shards of crystal are scattered everywhere around the study and Yo-han has a thought to simply walk all over them, self-flagellation, but he doesn’t, he’s never been a glutton for pain and Elijah would worry. Instead, the drunk man staggers to his feet, swaying slightly, and then carefully gets to the ground to start picking up the larger pieces. Mrs. Ji doesn’t deserve to have to clean up his messes like this, not when she's had to clean so many already.

He’s got two shards in his hand, clumsily grabbing for another and cutting his finger in the process, when a touch to his shoulder makes him jerk and whip around, ready to fight regardless of how the world tilts momentarily under his knees. Immediately that instinct drops away when he takes in the half silhouette of the person who has caught him unaware.

Ga-on, soft-eyed, looking concerned and a bit like a drowned rat, is standing there, staring down at him. Yo-han is momentarily at a loss but he tries hard to shutter himself away, take his momentary weakness, and push it into himself how he’s mastered doing. He drags up the anger instead, always sizzling inside his core, but when the scowl pinches onto his face Ga-on is dropping beside him on the ground and taking his hands, even the slightly bleeding one, and carefully extracts the crystal pieces.

“I told you-”

“You say a lot of things.” Ga-oh cuts him off and puts the shards to the side before taking up Yo-han’s hands again, it makes the older man swallow and while he’s derailed there’s another barb on the tip of his tongue. Ga-oh doesn’t let him throw it out. “You talk in circles and double meanings and cryptic warnings.” He’s not meeting Yo-han’s eyes, gaze lingering on the red staining the skin of his finger, trailing sluggishly from the cut. Yo-han wants to rip his hand away but he’s inebriated and he’s so suddenly tired. He wants Ga-on to say his part and then leave him in the relative silence his too-large home offers.

Ga-on seems to ready himself and he finally raises his eyes to meet Yo-han’s.

“I don’t know if I would believe it if you said you loved me, because half of the things you say are to manipulate me,” he’s not wrong, but Yo-han can’t help if it hurts a little, the consequences of his actions. And he would like to think he never does it because he wants Ga-on worse off, he just wants the other to see things the way that he does. “But…” Ga-on’s lips lift in a wobbly smile and Yo-han tells his liquor dumb brain not to hope. Hope hurts. Hope ruins people like him. “But I know how you act. When you think Elijah or I aren’t looking it's different than how you are outside these walls. I know what your intentions are even if your methods aren’t the same I would choose, and… and more than any of that, I’d like to.” Ga-on says that last part softly and it’s half stolen by a crack of thunder. Yo-han hears it regardless and has to force his brain to make the connections he’s never imaged could be actualized.

This is Ga-on, having left to do God knows what but returning, being honest. He's saying Yo-han’s words are trash but his actions are, somehow, what make him transparent. And it’s not just him laying Yo-han bare, but himself as well, saying where he stands but more importantly, where he’d like to.

Yo-han feels like he’s frozen, unable to move, unable to blink, to breathe. For once he feels like Ga-on is the most dangerous of the two of them, because kindness? Kindness can be just as sharp as malice. It just slices differently.

Ga-on, seeming to realize that Yo-han might be too far gone on alcohol, strung out from their previous fight, isn’t going to get far in an actual conversation. He sighs softly and curls his fingers around Yo-han’s wrist before rising, bringing Yo-han carefully with him.

“Let's get you and the floor cleaned up. We can talk in the morning.”

Yo-han follows, thinking to himself as Ga-on, still soaked from the rain but gently tugging him along to where the first aid kit is, might also let his actions betray him too. How he always comes back, no matter how harshly Yo-han pushes, how Ga-on situations himself into Elijah and his lives like it’s easy and not the uphill battle Yo-han knows he makes it.

Maybe… just maybe if Ga-on were to say he loved him too, one day, not now, not really, Yo-han would believe it too.

--REQUESTS TEMPORARILY CLOSED--

[clatterbane]

One tomato plant moved to its longer term home, at least!

There was some miscommunication, and for whatever reason? Mr. C was working off the impression that we needed one bucket and one bag of potting soil to fill it up with? Even though he had seen all four of the plants, and also how big they will usually grow. 🤔 But, he is not a gardening person. The main extent of the experience there was helping his mom with it, growing up.

We do have three more buckets plus dirt ordered from Hornbach. 👍 Hopefully shouldn't take that long for the rest to get here.

I was getting sick in retrospect, and just really didn't feel like wrestling that 40L sack of anything but lightweight soil over the weekend. Also trying to figure out how to avoid making a huge mess with that and watering the thing in--especially in the balcony room.

So, it's all been sitting out there, but I decided to go ahead and get the one bigger variety tomato into its new house this evening before it started getting dark. Awkward wrangle mostly from sitting in the floor, but it's done without too much stray dirt in the floor to vacuum up later!

Thankfully, one of the reasons that sack of (thoroughly organic!) soil was so heavy was that it had a lot of moisture already. So that made the watering less tricky, hopefully without having it flood out all over the floor. (Which is thankfully concrete under that already kind of worn indoor-outdoor carpeting.)

I just gave it most of a 2L bottle of water starting out, and will go back to cautiously add more later until a little does start coming out the bottom. It ought to be fine to settle in for the time being.

No need for staking yet, but we do have some for later.

Now, just two or three more potting soil workouts to go! 😁 Though I am still considering letting those two more compact variety cherry tomato plants share a planter, to leave one free for something else.

The very bottom leaves on the bigger plants were starting to suffer from getting so rootbound, so I'm extra glad to move that one out so at least the other one gets the pudding cup to itself until the other supplies come. Not much point in transplanting it into a bigger pot for probably less than a week, in the meantime.

Didn't want to pull any of the tiny marigold plants out of that egg carton over on the right until they were all ready to go around the tomatoes, since that paper carton would dry out worse that way. So, good thing they were seeded enough later to still be so small and good to stay where they are for a while. 😅 I also held off on sowing any basil in the tomato bucket, until the couple of marigold plants go in and it's easier to see where to plant those seeds.

But, glad to finally get at least one of those plants taken care of today! Didn't need to do more at a time anyway, not to seriously overdo the workout. At least next time, I should have a better plan if attack going in

[talonwings]

to feed a kingdom- Empires SMP Writing

in which fWhip and his subjects make questionable choices for noble reasons.

(can you tell yet that i am a c!fWhip apologist lololololol--)

It would have been easy to miss the small silhouette of the man against the giant shadows looming over the landscape.

The inky sky seemed to cling low over the Grimlands, as it had ever since the Dragon fell; the stars shone more dimly, those that still shone at all. Clouds scudded frantically across the faint crescent of the moon, pushed along by a harrying wind. The crickets all had fallen silent--indeed, all the animals had gone, hidden away in burrows and holes to shelter themselves from the threat of the corruption. No sound disturbed the stillness of the night, but for the harsh gasps of the lone figure as he raised the scythe and swung it again, and again, and again.

fWhip’s fingers had long since blistered, burst, and blistered again. He had stopped even glancing down to check his hands--the sight of the blood seeping through the fabric of his gloves had averted his gaze some time ago. The pain was a constant companion, enough so that he had become used to it, could ignore it if he gritted his teeth and focused on the rhythmic rise and fall of the tool in his grasp.

He was inelegant with the scythe. It would have been obvious to anyone observing, if there had been anyone around to observe at this ungodly hour; as it was, his lack of skill was evident enough in the ache it left behind in his forearms and shoulders, the torque that yanked at his spine every time he twisted to put his weight behind the swings. He had never been a large man, but he felt his smallness down to his bones here beneath the tower of corruption that still rose into the air above him.

Give up, the rot-red tendril seemed to hiss at him. Its veiny surface pulsated eerily, hinting at something living just beneath the fleshy exterior.

“I’ll die first,” fWhip rasped at it. “Watch me.”

He swung the scythe again. The blade was weathered steel, pocked and beaten from many years of use, but still dangerously sharp. It bit deep into the corrupted tendril, and fWhip was gratified when he swore he could hear a faint scream.

Plash was worried about the Count.

It wasn’t that her lord was acting strange, exactly. Strange, to Plash, was a relative term--she had been called ‘strange’ for most of her childhood due to her fondness for laboratory tools over the company of other children. It was a relief to finally be accepted into the service of the Grimlands’ ruler, who, by Plash’s measure, was a kindred spirit in strangeness. Many people raised their eyebrows at the Count’s eccentricities, but accepted them simply because he was the Count, and who were they to question the man who kept food on their tables and money in their coffers?

No, Plash was concerned because fWhip was acting strange, even for him. He was energetic and filled to the brim with ideas, as a rule--it was what made the Grimlands, under his rule, surge to the forefront of scientific research and discovery. Plash would have never described him as kind, necessarily, or even pleasant, but he was confident and sure and bold.

Until the Dragon fell, and everything changed.

She did not know how to make the dullness go out of his eyes, or the slant from his shoulders, or the heavy, bowing weight from his head, and it frightened her--an uncomfortable experience in itself, for someone as rarely frightened as Plash. In the hours immediately after the Dragon’s end, she had watched her beloved ruler become a person she did not recognize; and that, even before the corruption had arrived.

Plash scowled out the window of the manor at the scarlet tendril hanging ominously in the sky beyond the pane. The damn things had erupted from the ground barely a week after the Dragon’s death, while the Grimlands were still reeling from the arrival of what seemed like half of Mythland’s population. They had barely had enough time to count them all, much less figure out how they were going to feed them. Tents lined every road in Eastvale, and most of the roads immediately outside the town’s wall.

Normally, the Count would guide us, Plash thought glumly. But now…

She didn’t allow herself to finish the thought, close enough to treason as it was. Instead, she made herself continue her trek through the long, high-ceilinged halls toward the Count’s personal study, acutely feeling the weight of the smooth little scroll clutched in her hand, burning a hole through her glove.

She arrived at the tall, paneled oak door, staring for a long moment at the polished bronze knocker before summoning her strength and rapping it twice.

“Enter,” the weary voice called from within.

Plash did so, but stopped just inside the door, barely remembering to close it behind her as she gaped at her leader and mentor. He looked terrible. His eyes were ringed by bruise-purple circles, his cheeks hollow with exhaustion; more bruises were visible on the exposed skin of his wrists where his jacket sleeves rode up, and Plash swore she could see blood staining his gloves.

“Are you just going to stare?” the Count asked. The question was blunt, but his voice was weak and lacked its usual intensity.

“I…” Plash couldn’t find any words, so instead she held up the scroll. “This just arrived.”

“And they sent you instead of a raven?” fWhip gave a dry laugh. “I wasn’t aware that you were doing the job of birds now, Plash Ajax.”

Most people would have been embarrassed by the quip, but Plash shrugged. “A raven brought it, but the raven-mistress said it was too important not to be hand-delivered.”

“Mm.” fWhip eyed her for a moment before he, too, shrugged. “Bring it here.”

She obeyed, crossing the room and depositing the scroll on his desk. Up close he looked even worse than at first glance; his face and every centimeter of exposed flesh were riddled with tiny scratches, like he had been on the losing end of an encounter with a thorn bush. His clothes were wrinkled and disheveled, his gingery hair utterly unkempt. Plash said nothing, only waiting in silence for him to inspect the scroll.

He took it in his hands and unrolled it, eyes scanning it for a second before he let it fall from his grip. It hit the desk with a clack, but Plash barely noticed, fixated as she was on the single tear that trailed down the Count’s cheek before being lost in the tangle of his beard.

“Um…” She chewed her lip for a moment, internally caught between wanting to comfort him and wanting to turn tail and run. She settled for asking, somewhat awkwardly, “Shall I, um...shall I leave?”

“Do what you like,” he replied in a tone thick with exhaustion. One gloved hand came up for a noncommittal wave, the fingers indeed stained scarlet with blood.

Plash stood frozen for what felt like an eternity, although it was probably no more than a minute, trying to decide what to do. Finally, she decided to be as blunt as the man she looked up to. “You look awful. Did someone break in here for a fight last night?”

She thought she had made an awful mistake when fWhip’s eyes locked onto her, his mouth agape; relief washed over her when he started to laugh, the sound hoarse and beaten, but familiar.

“So you can tell,” he said when he finally stopped laughing. “Well, I suppose I did nothing to try to clean up.”

“Wait, so there was a fight?” Plash asked in confusion.

“Of a kind,” the Count replied wryly.

“...I’m confused,” the young scientist admitted.

“Ah, I know how you hate that.” fWhip’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “All of you young researchers do, though I try my best to beat it out of you.” He stood, shaking his head and then wincing visibly at the movement. “Ack. That’s unpleasant.”

“Can I, er, help in any way?” Plash asked.

“Follow me,” the Count said, beckoning with a gesture toward the door. “I will answer your question, though you must promise to share this with no one.”

Plash followed silently, thoughts spinning through her head as they descended the several floors of the manor and exited into the gardens beyond. From down here, she had a full view of the corruption towering over the skyline of Eastvale, tendrils encircling the town as if to latch on and pull it into the earth, although for now, they remained still. It was toward one of the massive growths that fWhip led her, and as they neared, Plash could see a curious wound in the side of the tentacle. It leaked and bled crimson ooze from the gash, and its flesh seemed to have withered around the site, blackened and decaying.

“What caused this?” Plash wondered aloud. “More corruption? Some new blight?”

“I did,” the Count answered.

“You--?” Plash stared at him, aghast, her eyes dropping slowly to the scarlet-stained scythe that lay abandoned on the ground below the tendril. She hadn’t noticed it until he nudged it with his boot, but now she saw the corrupted ichor dripping from the blade, the red vines hacked to pieces and lying dead beside the tool.

“Did you know I wanted to be a farmer once?”

She was caught entirely off-guard by the question, still enthralled as she was by the sight of the scythe, so it took her a moment to fully process it. “Wh--wait, a farmer? As in…?” She mimed what she thought scything wheat might look like.

fWhip nodded tiredly. “When I was very young, I once had to accompany my parents, the old Count and Countess, on a trip to a Wither Rose Alliance summit in Mythland. They were, of course, ensconced in meetings all day, so I wandered the kingdom with my…” Here he trailed off, a flash of some unreadable feeling crossing his face for a moment before he went on. “With an old friend. We got into plenty of mischief, and one of the pranks we decided on was to unlatch the gate to a field full of cows. Luckily, the farmer caught us before we were trampled to death by the beasts, and although we were royal, he decided to teach us a lesson, and made us help him sow carrot seeds for two hours.”

Plash made a face. “That sounds horrid.”

The Count chuckled softly. “My friend thought so, but for me, there was something very rewarding in digging up the earth, placing the seeds, covering them, and knowing that they would someday become food for the citizens of Mythland.”

“...Sort of like finishing a machine that you know will be used to make life easier for people,” Plash said after a moment’s reflection. She knew the feeling--hands oil-stained, face soot-smeared, hair wild, sleep-deprived and exhausted, but overwhelmed with warmth when she gazed at the thing she had created. There was nothing like it.

fWhip nodded. “Yes. And so I told my parents when I was returned to them later that I wanted to become a farmer and grow carrots for all the people of the Grimlands. They laughed, of course, and said that a Count’s son could do more than become a simple farmer, and as it turned out, they were right. But for a long time, I had a secret dream to fill the whole world with fields, to build one every day, as far as the eye could see.”

Plash gazed at him silently for a long time. Finally, she said, “So this is your chance to use the scythe to help the Grimlands?”

His face became hard, almost unrecognizably so. “If I have to tear down every one of these damn things, I will.”

There was silence between them again, the awful, still silence that had hung over the Grimlands in all the hours that had passed since the Ender Dragon’s demise. Plash watched as the Count breathed raggedly, his fists clenched and trembling, the entire weight of their kingdom resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll help,” she said.

He blinked--it was clearly not the response he had been expecting. “What?”

“I said, I’ll help,” Plash repeated. Her resolve was growing now, ideas taking root--like seeds, like kernels that, properly watered, would grow into something that could help them all. “I’m terrible with a scythe, but I know machines and chemicals. If you give me a sample, I can turn it into something that will help us feed the Mythlanders.”

The Count’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “Feed--with the corruption?”

Plash scowled at him. “Did you recruit me from university because I had boring ideas?”

He looked astonished for a moment, but only for a moment, and then his mouth formed the devious smile that she hadn’t seen in nearly eight days.

“No,” he agreed. “I did not. Very well, Plash Ajax. You will turn Xornoth’s corruption into food for the people of Mythland. But you know, I have high expectations now that you’ve even suggested such a thing.”

Plash grinned right back, cracking her knuckles, her mind already working. “I know. So do I.”

[utterlyinevitable]

pb let me *redact* Tobias challenge 🥲

not me turning your tobias thirst asks into a 3-part mini series 😂🙈

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Becca Lao) x Tobias Carrick Rating: Teen+ Summary: Ethan’s still pissed at Becca for her Tobias stint when he was in the Amazon. What happens when the narcissist joins the team? Trope: Angst; Broke Up; Ethan’s POV; Fighting; Jealousy

A/N: the toxin plot didn’t happen in this universe btw.

Part 1  |  Part 2

___________________________

Godly Sins: 3. Parting Wrath of Hera

That evening Tobias and Becca spoke late into the night about anything and everything. Well, everything that didn’t involve Ethan, June and hospital drama, nor their two brief wanton stints - truly getting to know one another and starting fresh.

As days and shifts and weekends rolled by, the sparkle they’ve shared began blooming into a friendship.

It was rather inevitable, really.

Two people who shared an indubitable attraction, forced to spend all their time together out of their boss’ sight - It was kismet.

Meanwhile, Ethan Ramsey had been ignoring them both for weeks outside of Diagnostic Team mandated functions - even then, interactions were brief and mediated by Harper. He’s been on edge since Tobias joined the team as Bloom’s nark, presumably. Or at least that’s what he told himself - convinced himself that nothing good could come from whatever this was.

Oh, how things go horribly, horribly sour.

Becca was sitting in the office waiting for the daily Diagnostics Team meeting to start, busying herself by scrolling through social media over eleven times in the last five minutes.

Steps away, Ethan sat at his desk, keeping a cold shoulder and looking over files he purposely keeps on his desk for awkward times just as these. The air between them stiff and stale, as heavy as it was months ago when they had their falling out. They should have acclimated to the unrelenting suffocation of being left alone together - the third shadow accompanying whatever was left of them.

But they hadn’t. Never really could once she realized Ethan would never forgive her for forming a survivalistic attachment to his biggest adversary. Rebecca Lao wasn’t going to let a man’s misplaced pride stifle her. So, she refuses to stroke his ego by hiding - even through the rancor of being alone with him, and the twangs that erupt when they’re this close. She’s not going to idly hover outside, biding time until Harper or Tobias or Naveen or a nurse, or anyone else enters the office first. She’ll sit and she’ll wait for work to begin.

And Ethan Ramsey will sit at his desk and pretend she’s not there. He’ll pretend he can’t smell her perfume, or hear the tapping of her nails to her phone or the heel to the floor as her leg jitters. He’ll pretend she’s nothing more than a ghost of the past lingering in the cornerstone of his conscious, like all the others. He’ll convince himself he’s angled away from her just enough to keep a peripheral eye on the door in case there’s an emergency, even if that line of vision is really just of her.

If Tobias noticed Ethan staring blankly ahead, he didn’t dare attempt to feign interest. The olive-skinned addition sauntered straight over to Becca, hands full and a thin, satisfied smile at home on his lips.

He set down a large coffee and sandwich wrapped in white paper in front of her. Ethan could just about read the stickered logo from where he sat. But he could see the undoubtable way Becca’s eyes lit up.  

“Is this from...”

“The one and only,” Tobias had a cheeky grin - a kind of unbridled simper.

“That was fast.”

“Said I’d buy you breakfast, and I did.” He pulled out the chair closest to her and sat with his signature nonchalant grace. “Did you think I’m not a man of my word?” His hand was waving, palm up, towards the small feast before her.

“More like a flubber.”

Becca’s playful tone matched his in the most complimentary way.

Ethan caught the shining smile they shared - one that could only indicate an inside joke. One that could only mean they were spending too much time together. One that could only mean they were getting along.

Then Tobias plucked a strip of bacon off her sandwich.

And that was when something snapped in Dr. Ramsey.

They weren’t meant to be comfortable. They’re meant to suffer. That was the whole point of constantly pairing them together. These two flawed and moralless people were meant to be a punishment. Just for a while. Just until...

They made a house out of crushed stones.

They flipped the script on how this was meant to play out, and Ethan vehemently resented them for it.

As soon as Harper entered the office, Ethan bolted to his feet and rattled through the meeting. Swift, succinct and blinded by the need to be alone. Alone to plot what comes next.

He was gruffer with them for the rest of the day, and this time they noticed. The scorn seeped through Ethan’s characteristic distain like nuclear waste. Neither Becca or Tobias were guilty of whatever Ethan was holding them accountable for this time - a scapegoat for his repressed feelings. Then why did Becca feel guilty? She did nothing wrong - then or now. This is a natural progression to the seeds he sowed by banishing them.

Ethan will just have to live with the consequences.  

***

The consequences came two weeks later. Powerful and damning and freezing Ethan in place, right in the middle of his office. Right in front of them. 

Tobias and Becca were perched on the diagnostics’ couch. Becca’s hand is in his and he’s rubbing gentle circles of adoration to the soft skin. He didn’t stop his ministrations as the air around them, once a glorious heated serenity, now turned icy. The chill wafting through with the large presence of their past.

“I don’t want to know,” he grumbles as he pulls himself out of his stupor and storms towards his desk.

The words of her off-handed response were as hard as a lingering look into Medusa’s eyes. “Yes you do, Ethan. So ask.”

The contempt. The exasperation. The overall vile irksome in her tone… It was baiting him. She was baiting him to lose his temper. To acknowledge it all. Ethan didn’t mean to say his inner thoughts out loud, didn’t mean to revert on the divine separation he’s put between them all. And he certainly didn’t mean for her to mistake this moment as an olive branch. However decrepit it is. 

Ethan didn’t ask. Just shakes his head and tries to fall back into his ignorance. 

He hears the creak of the couch as the pair stand up and the shuffling of two people moving as one. Ethan’s trying so hard not to watch them - trying not to assess their every move and read too much into it. The pair move towards the door when he speaks -

An authoritative statement pegged directly at her. Eyes devoid of feeling, blue irises creeping down the Marianas trench.

“It is unethical to be involved with a colleague.”

Ethan Ramsey was foolish. Especially so to believe he could have the last word - the last victory of battle in the war he started. For Rebecca spun around with such purpose, the skirt of her dress catching on the wind. Her hands at her sides balling, sharp nails grazing palms.

A rueful snort escapes her, “Thought it was only unethical if there’s a power imbalance?”

She had him there. With the forced team democracy Tobias wasn’t technically a superior. Never mind that they aren’t together. Not really.

If he was a better man, Tobias would intervene and set the record straight. He’d position himself in the five feet between these two Edenbrook legacies instead of behind her. Watching. Decoding every tell tale in the tableau.

The way they were glaring at one another, well... The suspicion that floated as his reasoning to send the basket all those months ago was more than confirmed. And Tobias Carrick just realized what he’s just gotten himself into.

“There will be no fraternizing within my team,” Ethan’s voice strained to keep calm. Tried not to bellow the rule he’s kept in place when it comes to Rebecca Lao. His ears beginning to redden and the vein of his neck protruding. 

Becca huffed a dry laugh, folded her arms across her chest and looked away. Towards Tobias.

In a few seconds many things happened. Becca’s eyes locked on Tobias, shooting him a look that could only mean one thing. Tobias smiled just for her. Ethan’s heart shattered. And Becca turned back to Ethan.

Her once copper eyes now almost entirely black. “Define fraternizing.”

That had Ethan sputtering and Tobias’ sly smile broadening.

“Because friendship is one thing,” she continued. “Sexual intercourse, another.”

That got a rise out of both men for very different reasons.

“Either way, the nature of my relationship with Tobias is none of your concern.”

They’re staring one another down. His sapphire eyes darker than she’s ever seen - all the hurt they’ve caused one another swirling between. Becca can feel the regret in the tension of his shoulders and the stiffness of his jaw. But for what, she doesn’t know - doesn’t want to. The longer she stands here, looking at him for the first time in months, she fears she’ll see every facet of pain she’s caused, and every reason to back down. And that’s too much to bear. Even after it all there’s still a part of her that loves him, always will. 

She’s strong as stone before him, refusing to waver.

Tobias itches to say something, anything. Something that wouldn’t just cut through the tension... 

“If it makes you feel better we’ll disclose to HR.”

Ethan’s neck could have snapped with the force of the swiftness as his head whipped towards his rival. Eyes narrowed and sizing Tobias up - decoding every subtext of the phrase. Every little bit of their unknown closeness. 

With his steely gaze stuck on Tobias, Becca found the strength to pull away. Turned her back on Ethan and began walking out - not a single glance thrown back over her shoulder for either man. Tobias less than half a step behind her. Leaving Ethan with one final look. 

As Ethan watched them walk out, he deflates. A knife stabbed straight to the heart he wasn’t sure he still had. Red blood that beat because of her. 

For her. 

Still.

***BONUS POV***

As soon as they were out of earshot, down the corridor and away from any lingering ears, Tobias spoke; 

“Ever going to tell me what happened between you and Ramsey?”

“A mistake, apparently.”

He squeezed her hand and that’s all that was said on the subject.      

______________________

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[waffles-for-brunch]

This project began as an indirect response to a few negative tweets in the days following the Valentine's Day Destiel wedding. During such time that “certain sources” chose to speak against the impromptu "wedding" and state that the direction of the show never included sexuality or romance. Since this argument has sparked a bit of discourse as to the validity of Dean Winchester and Castiel's relationship and sexualities, I began this edit as an exploration of observations throughout the entire 15 season run of the series. (That's not to say that Sam does not also have his own impactful romances throughout the show -he does have several notable ones- but in his case they are never debated upon or erased.)

There are three complete edits linked below. The differences are explained in their descriptions. (I also recommend downloading for best quality rather than simply watching in the browser, but it’s your choice)

BiDeanEdit: (Click here to download)

Runtime: 18:04:44

File Size: 10.0 GB (10,741,415,805 bytes)

Series long compilation edit (in sequence) of Dean Winchester and Castiel’s relationships and intended expressions of their sexualities (ie interest in both genders). This edit focuses on their relationship as it develops with one another, their other notable relationships (DeanxBenny, CasxMeg, DeanxLisa, etc), and the framework around their sexualities with small scenes of expression (ie Dean in ‘Playthings’ or ‘Everybody Hates Hitler’, or early seasons Dean & his transgressions with women, or Cas in ‘Caged Heat’)

BiDeanMLMEdit: (Click here to download)

Runtime: 14:40:57

File Size: 8.05 GB (8,649,798,685 bytes)

Series long compilation edit (in sequence) of Dean Winchester and Castiel’s relationships and intended expressions of their sexualities. This one is the same as the last but with only MLM content (Otherwise referred to as ‘only the gay parts’). We focus on this more repressed side of their sexuality and see these clues laid out altogether in one fluid edit (these examples are also available in the previous edit, however are just not aligned beside any heterosexual content). DeanxCrowley, DeanxBenny, DeanxLee, DeanxCas, etc. 

DestielOnlyEdit: (Click here to download)

Runtime: 13:08:49

File Size: 7.17 GB (7,709,560,696 bytes)

Series long compilation edit (in sequence) of only Destiel related content. The same as the above edit, just simplified even more to only focus on Dean and Cas’ relationship over the years. 

Keep reading below to find my full analysis of the complete edit regarding these guys sexualities, relationships, and the parallels we can draw. 

To understand why it is that so many queer fans of Supernatural and other similar shows read queerness in characters and their relationships, we should look at the hays code established in 1930. At this time this certain code was established to monitor what was allowed to be depicted outright on film. Within the margins of what was to be stifled, was homosexuality. As such, filmmakers had to plant “queer-coded” seeds into the writing and subtext so that queer audiences watching could interpret these characters and relationships in this manner without the words and actions stating so outright. (At this time homosexuality could be depicted on film as long as said gay character was either a villain, caricature, or met an untimely end- feeding into the blossoming of the kill-your-gays trope. But that’s another topic for a later time.) 

As film changed over the years and times became more accepting of lgbt characters portrayals on screen outside of simple coding, this did not make the code obsolete. Queer-coding and queer-baiting are often used in media in present day as a way to pull in viewership. Networks are able to garner the best of both worlds, in a sense. They can draw in heterosexual audiences that may not want to watch queer media, whilst also drawing in queer audiences by coding some characters and relationships just enough to pull those viewers in. This works simply because there is such a lack of queer representation in most media that we’ll take what we can get. 

This is where Supernatural comes in. There is a reason that Supernatural and thus “Destiel” is known by some as “The Great American Queerbait.” This twelve years long gay slow-burn between one overly masculine character and his awkward angel best friend did not begin with the intention of romance or baiting, as many of these things generally don’t. However, once fans realized the chemistry between these two particular actors and characters, it became something blatantly written into the show. Sometimes jokingly, other times as legitimate moments of emotional intimacy between two characters. So to say that the show’s direction never included sexuality or romance is, to put it bluntly, bullshit. Just because something is not written in clear and concise wording right in your face, does not mean that it is nonexistent and that the writers did not know what they were writing into the show. (Not even to mention the actual love confession in 15x18, but I digress). 

We know very well that queer content has been written subtextually into media for the better part of seventy years. It is a language in media just as much as lighting is a language, just as much as certain camera angles, color design in costumes or set decor, and music design are languages. All of these, outside of the simple words said on screen, make up our media and these characters and our shows. Tv is a world of color, not black and white.

[[ further readings on the above topics: X X X X X ]] 

I decided upon this full edit encompassing both the female and male aspects of Dean Winchester and Castiel’s relationships & sexualities because oftentimes when we’re looking into potentially queer characters we tend to focus on the same sex attraction and neglect the opposite sex attraction. Both are very important to acknowledge and compare, if at the very least to view where they may overcompensate, where toxic masculinity may come into play, compulsory heterosexuality, trauma responses, etc. Sometimes what a character doesn’t do is just as important to interpret as what they do do. 

For instance, Dean Winchester. If we are to operate under the assumption that he is bisexual, any repression we witness throughout the series as to his male attraction is likely to be a result of his difficult upbringing, similar to most queer identifying people with childhood trauma. His father is a marine, the picture of manliness in which Dean himself blatantly embodies in an effort to impress and make his father proud in any way he can. Dean is already unlikely to seek out activities in any aspect of life of which might make John look at him in a different light (ie, in an every day setting, even simply watching Finding Dory- this is not something S1 Dean would have admitted to liking, but we see Dean in later seasons standing up for himself and his appreciation for it). 

Is it perhaps for this reason that we see Dean as an overly blatant and flirty ladies man in season 1 when John is still alive, while this side of him steadily declines as the series continues? It even becomes established in season 3- in light of Dean’s fears surrounding going to Hell, he enters an attitude for coping that Sam recognizes- hypermasculinity, promiscuity, deflection. Heightening the idea that this caricature of himself that he embodies is a mask that he wears in order to cope with something else. He is donning the image he assumes others think he should fit into. Sam calls him out on this through the years, and eventually this becomes something we see in him less and less as he feels more comfortable simply being himself. 

If we take into account the time of which this first season is filmed, this is 2005, a time where gay jokes were still funny and an overcompensating character was a joke attached to it. We see Dean built up in these first couple of seasons through this lens of jokes about a hyper-masculine character being mistaken for gay, however instead of this building up the masculinity to encourage a raging heterosexual characterization, this overcompensation is exactly what inadvertently sows the seeds of queer-coding. To queer watchers this reads as a deeply repressed character with childhood trauma who overcompensates when faced with observations of gayness and uses hypermasculinity to counteract these accusations. 

It is through circumstances such as “Bugs” in S1 or “Playthings” in S2 that we first see these ‘jokes.’ The brothers are mistaken as a gay couple. Dean being the more “masculine’ of the two characters has a blatant reaction to these situations (Overcompensating), and Sam’s lack of a reaction is what solidifies his own straightness all the more. Neither brother is homophobic (this becomes established as time goes on) so why would either have a problem with this mistake? Sam wouldn’t care because he’s clearly not gay- in fact, he usually just laughs it off. Dean would care because he wonders what about him looks gay? Do other people see it too? Do they know? What’s wrong with him? 

We also see another blatant example of this type of freakout in season 8. “Everybody Hates Hitler.”

(Images: “Playthings” S2xE11)

(Image below: S8 “Everybody Hates Hilter”)

We frame these situations in early seasons around girl of the week scenarios and brief bar flirtations. Have to make it clear that our manly straight character looks as manly and straight as possible. Dean is also in his 20s, he’s more carefree/not as traumatized yet, and he is a sexual man so he does sleep around quite a bit. What is notable, however, is how much this drops off in later seasons. As time goes on Dean seeks out less and less the fleeting encounters of one night stands, in favor of genuine connections- even if he himself frequently doubts his own ability to ever have a settle-down type of relationship or life. Lisa is the only long-term female romantic relationship Dean ever has throughout the series run, and this tentatively begins in season 5 and ends in season 6. 

Dean and Lisa’s relationship is founded more in a dream of something that Dean wants to be rather than who he actually is. Although he loves her, their bond is made through trauma and their relationship overall is reminiscent of a soldier who returned home from war with heavy PTSD and begins to burden the family that he will come to realize he doesn’t quite fit within anymore. 

Outside of this, his closest relationships from thereon out are between Benny, and Castiel. 

Let’s start with Benny. Throughout season 8 Benny is framed as an ex and his relationship with Dean directly parallels Sam and Amelia’s. Both brothers must confront their relationships with their ‘significant others’ and decide whether to cut them off or proceed. Both brothers found these people under circumstances in which they did not get along with them at first but were pushed together. Another person comes in the middle of their relationship (Amelia’s husband for Sam, or Cas/Sam for Benny). The brothers each resent the other’s significant other or the circumstances surrounding the relationship. Sam hates Benny because he is a vampire and Sam does not understand why Dean continually trusts him (which is a circumstance inherently queer-coded in itself for comparability to an unaccepting family). Dean does not care for Amelia simply for the fact that Sam chose her over looking for him in purgatory.

Other instances we see parallels between Sam’s romances and Dean’s:

“Sex and Violence” S4 siren: Nick(Siren)/Dean parallel to Sam/Dr Lady

Season 4: Ruby/Sam and Cas/Dean teamup parallels

S1 Dean pulling Sam from the fire away from Jess vs S12 Sam pulling Dean away from Cas who may die approaching Lucifer to fight

Season 8: Dean/Benny vs Sam/Amelia. Dean and Benny, since they’re essentially going through a breakup, are directly paralleled to Sam and Amelia and their breakup. See “Larp and the Real Girl” for Charlie and Dean’s conversation about Sam’s recent breakup and Charlie picking up on the fact that Dean might also be going through one. 

1x05 vs 8x07: Sam seeing Jessica on the sidewalk as they drive down the street vs Dean seeing Cas on the side of the road as he drives down the street

S11: Perhaps this one can be interpreted loosely and not necessarily romantic (esp on Sam’s end), but “O’ Brother Where Art Thou” both brothers are drawn to forces they actively fight against being drawn to. SamxLucifer and DeanxAmara. 

S11: “Beyond the Mat” not a relationship but with crushes/infatuations. Dean with Gunner Lawless and Sam with Rio. 

S15: Cas telling Dean that “We Are” real. vs Eileen being unsure what’s real and Sam kissing her and saying “I know that was real.”

S15: “The Trap” Dean loses all hope following the death of their friends and primarily Cas. Sam loses hope after Eileen’s death. Directly paralleled in the episode. (We also see Sam lose Eileen in 15x18, where Dean also loses Cas)

Additional parallels between Dean/Cas with anyone else:

Season 9/10: Cain/Colette vs Dean/Cas. “She only asked for one thing. To stop.” vs Cas asking Dean to “Stop”. Both circumstances referring to the Mark of Cain.

S12 “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” Lily (human)/Isham (angel) vs Dean (human)/ Cas (angel)

Led Zeppelin: This music means something within John/Mary’s relationship, which Dean directly acknowledges in 12x01 with Mary. We find out Dean has gifted Cas a mixtape of his “Top 13 Zepp Traxx” in 12x19. (the implications of Dean having made a mixtape for Cas, being its own point in a different discussion)

When Lucifer contacts a person to try and get them to open up to him, he uses their dead lover as a ploy. SamxJess, NickxSarah, VincexJen, DeanxCas - 15x19 when Lucifer calls Dean using Cas’ voice. 

The parallels of unreciprocated love/infatuation. DeanxCrowley and CasxHannah. Dean likes Crowley but clearly not the way that Crowley likes Dean. Cas likes Hannah like a friend or sister, but she keeps putting the moves on him for awhile and he appears deeply uncomfortable and has to shoot her down more than once. 

Parallels between Dean’s own relationships:

Dean in “Let it Bleed” torturing demons to find the location of Lisa and Ben vs Dean in Purgatory torturing monsters to find the location of Cas “The angel”

“The Rapture” opens in Dean’s dream which Cas visits and says he’s in trouble and gives Dean an address to go to immediately. “The Song Remains The Same” opens in Dean’s dream which Anna visits and says she’s in trouble and gives Dean an address to go to immediately. 

S6 Dean dodging calls from Lisa vs S12 Dean dodging Cas at the beginning of “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” (notable also how Sam treats both circumstances the same)

S11: “Into the Mystic” 11x11 Mildred tells Dean the key to living a long and happy life is to follow your heart. Later in the season “All in the Family” 11x21 When Casifer is still captured by Amara, she puts her hand to Cas’ heart and is able to connect with Dean to contact him. Hinting at the link between Cas and Dean’s “hearts.” 

Not necessarily a parallel but an observation. 7x01 when Cas is loaded up on God juice, and Dean has given up but Sam hasn’t and wants to talk to ‘the guy’, Dean says, “He’s not a guy, he’s God.” But in 11x18 Dean refuses to give up on Cas and let him continue to be possessed. Sam keeps speaking about Cas like he’s just a vessel and Dean says, “It? It’s not an it, Sam. It’s Cas.” Mostly this shows the development of their relationship and Dean’s willingness to continue to fight for him. 

Dean’s dream world with Pamela in S14, she says to Dean “How come you only want what you can’t have?” and in S15 during Cas’ confession scene he says to Dean, “The one thing I want, is something I know I can’t have.”

Before we delve into Dean and Castiel specifically, let’s explore a few more things regarding Dean. 

Let’s start with Cassie. This is Dean’s first romantic relationship we see on the show, and is arguably his first love. What is notable about her is her characterization and Dean in relation to her. We haven’t seen him in a relationship before, and thus this is the baseline to which we can draw how he is in this type of vulnerable state.

We see here that he is drawn to strong individuals. Cassie is a very strong willed character and can hold her own. She has a boldness about her. Dean appreciates that. We see similar in his next framed love interest: Jo Harvelle. Jo is another strong character, and though Dean sees her more as someone he needs to protect because she doesn’t have as much experience under her belt, he respects her intellect and strong will all the same. They connect through a love for hunting and mutual daddy issues. Personally, this is a relationship I view more as a little sister dynamic in a similar vein to Dean and Charlie, however this pairing is still worth noting because as it was written it was intended to potentially flourish into a romantic relationship. This did not pan out, though the seeds are still there. 

Next up is Anna. Again daddy issues are a solid connection these two hold, and while this relationship is more of a one-night-stand than anything else, there are still important points to be taken from this encounter. The first is just how much Dean cares. We don’t see very many sex scenes with Dean throughout the series, but of the ones we do see, it is apparent that he is a gentle and tender man. He cares. About even a single night with a woman. (Cassie, Anna, Lydia ’The Slice Girls”) This is a contrast to Dean’s general persona of the masculine straight promiscuous lady’s man. He has all the bravado of a man who ‘loves em and leaves em’, but in reality that is not who he is. This is another example of the faces Dean wears in front of certain people (and what he thinks they expect of him), and the person he is once he lets that mask fall. 

It may be important to note as well that Anna, (it is rumored) was originally meant to be more to Dean than this simple one night stand and connection. She was intended to become a romantic interest but, as it turned out, Dean and Cas had more chemistry so the arc that Anna was meant to follow was instead given to Castiel. 

It is another year until the apocalypse comes along, Sam dies, and Dean falls back into Lisa’s lap. While Lisa is another strong-willed woman who rolls with the punches, her lifestyle deviates from Dean’s usual romantic interests simply because of her offering of a normal life outside of everything he’s usually known. A life with her is dipping his toe into a life he could have had if he didn’t hold the weight of the world on his shoulders and hunt the things that go bump in the night.

This is Dean’s last “official” relationship of the series. After putting Lisa and Ben in danger by being someone that he cares about, Dean accepts that he’s simply not a guy that can have a normal life or a normal family. He cares about people and they get hurt. This is a weight he holds on his shoulders for the remainder of the show. He loves someone, or more accurately, they love him, and they’ll get hurt. End of story. It doesn’t help that immediately following this, Castiel “dies” too. 

Maybe it’s Lisa, maybe it’s Cas. Maybe it’s a combination of the two at this point in time, but Dean is never again the same when it comes to relationships after these events at the end of season 6. He becomes more cautious, tries to keep people an arm’s length away, and we even begin to see less and less promiscuity and flirting with miscellaneous women from this point on. 

Let’s talk about Castiel.

Although Dean has had various queer-coded moments throughout the beginning of the series and up to Castiel’s entrance in season 4, his minimal relationships up to this point have all been with women. Simply exploring the evolution of this relationship from Dean’s side of the picture, Dean doesn’t start to truly warm up to Castiel until perhaps the end of season 4. He begins the season unsure of the angel, perhaps even a bit afraid of him, before the two garner a sort of mutual respect as Dean begins to see that there’s more to him than simply an agent of heaven.

They’re friends in season 5. The quirky, strange angel that doesn’t understand social cues, stands too close, stares too much, and says things like “we’re making it up as we go” and “tonight you’re my little bitch.” He’s a far cry from the ethereal entity that showed up in Bobby’s kitchen just a year ago and threatened to toss Dean back into Hell. What really turns the curve, however, is “The End.” 

5 years in the future in the midst of an apocalyptic war, Cas is still around. He’s human and he’s stuck by Dean’s side through it all, even though this Dean is just a shadow of his former self. Then again, so is this Cas. But still, they stuck together. Dean isn’t used to that. He has very few people that have stuck by him for this many years. Could probably count them all on one hand at this point. Bobby and Sam at the top of the list. Everyone else either dies or leaves. And in this future, Bobby and Sam are dead, but Cas is still there.  

Dean has abandonment issues. His mother died when he was four, his dad was in and out emotionally and physically his entire upbringing, Sam left for Stanford the first chance he got. He’s got strings of dead friends and lost relationships surely in tow for years at this point, and half the time Dean has become accustomed to pushing people away before they have a chance to push him away first. (Ie Cassie, Lisa, often even Sam too at times). Cas won’t make these issues any better during their run together, but up to this point Cas hasn’t let him down. The simple fact that in this one future universe Cas had stuck by him, I’m sure that makes a big difference to Dean and actually may be imperative for their relationship going forward and the trust that forms between them. 

Something that becomes a large part of their relationship is Cas and Dean’s ability to have conversations with just their eyes. This is a shorthand that Dean is known to have with Sam on occasion, especially during times of combat. It takes a certain amount of intimacy and knowledge of the other person to be able to have a shorthand like this. The first instance we see this between them is quite possibly “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester,” when Dean convinces Cas that they can save the town. We see it again in the ‘beautiful room’ when Cas slams Dean up against the wall and Dean seems to understand what’s happening. Another instance, “The Song Remains the Same.” In a way, it’s a locking of eyes that just seems to say “trust me,” and they do. 

Sam wonders if Anna may be right. If killing him and scattering the pieces will stop this whole Lucifer vessel business. Sam asks Cas, Cas looks to Dean, they share a look, and Cas shuts Sam down. In all likelihood that plan could have worked, but Cas wouldn’t do that Dean. He wouldn’t do it to Sam either but at this point he’ll do anything at all for Dean. 

If we take a moment to consider Dean and Cas’ relationship here, it is unlike any of Dean’s previous ones. Dean never has this same kind of shorthand with any of his other relationships, save for possibly Benny to a certain extent. Cas is an odd guy, and Dean frequently describes him as such, but he finds it endearing (if “Free to be You and Me” is any indication this early in their relationship). The previous women in his life all had the same thing in common, that they’re strong willed, brave, and don’t put up with Dean’s shit when he’s being a shit. Cas does fit all this criteria, but he’s also someone that Dean has a hard time reading. Cas is so literal sometimes that Dean can’t tell what’s literal, what’s deadpan, and what’s just Cas’ personality as an angel. But at the end of the day, simply put, he likes him and he trusts him. Getting Dean Winchester’s full trust as quickly as Cas gets it is an anomaly all on its own. 

Dean’s female relationships are fairly surface level. They’re easy and fairly uncomplicated. Boy likes girl, girl likes boy. Girl gets mad at boy, relationship ends. Easy. Expected. His relationship with Cas isn’t easy. But the big endgame relationships seldom are. There’s blood, loss of trust, rebuilding, and there’s a pull that at the end of the day always brings them back to one another no matter how incredibly messy things get.  

And boy do things get messy. If we touch back into the end of season 6 where things end with Lisa and blow up with Cas, Dean is at an all time low in the relationship department. 

Dean takes Cas’ betrayal hard. Breakups are one thing. Leaving Lisa was expected. It was bound to happen eventually. Dean always knew that somewhere inside. He mourns leaving them, but knows it’s for the best. But with Cas’ betrayal at working with Crowley, he’s devastated all over again. 

Dean never expects his relationships to last forever, but again there’s a choice few people in his life he lets take up space on the list of those who might stick around. Bobby, Sam, Cas. I don’t think Lisa was ever on this list, as much as Dean wishes he could tell himself she and Ben were. But they weren’t. That relationship was a ticking time bomb. And when they nearly die because of his life and the creatures surrounding him every day, that’s the end of it.

Fast forward, season 7 is a time of mourning. He’s lost Lisa and Ben, he gets Cas back for all of 30 minutes before losing him all over again and never being able to repair that relationship. But he keeps the trenchcoat. Fishes it out of the lake, bundles it up, and keeps it in the back of every single car that he and Sam drive that year. 

Dean doesn’t keep mementos. Not of Cassie, not of Jo, Not of Anna, or even Lisa and Ben. No pictures, no items, just memories. You know what he does keep? He keeps his dad’s leather jacket, Bobby’s flask, pictures of he and Sam and his mom. Is keeping the trenchcoat in the back of the car for a year similar to those familial keepsakes? Maybe. But it’s also more than that. It’s covered in blood and lake water, and I’m sure Dean would explain it away that Cas was family and that’s why he kept the coat. Probably even believes that too. 

Then we have purgatory. 

Dean prays to Cas every night. He could get out of that place just on his own, but he stays there for months in full combat just to look for the angel and get him out with him.

“First we find the angel”

“Cas, we’re gettin’ out of here. We’re going home.”

“Cas, buddy, I need you.”

“Let me bottom line it for you. I’m not leaving here without you. Understand?”

“Cas, we’re gonna shove your ass back through the eye of that needle if it kills all three of us.”

“It’s gonna work. Nobody gets left behind.”

When we meet Benny, Dean’s only other primary male pairing of consequence, he is not trusted. This team-up is one of strategy and a mutual goal only- at least at first. Dean and Benny fight well side by side, but the trust only runs so far. That is, until during one particular fight with leviathans in which Cas nearly bites it, Benny saves the angel’s life. This is the main turning point for Dean’s entire trust in Benny from here on out. 

“Benny has never let me down.” Dean says later to Sam. And he never did. He saved Cas, got Dean out of purgatory, and then later on he gets himself sent back to purgatory just so he can help Dean’s brother get out of there. 

Dean and Benny’s relationship was “pure” in purgatory. They didn’t have to worry as much about the fact that Benny was a vampire and Dean was a hunter, they were just brothers in arms who earned one another’s trust, respect and love. There’s no way you let a man kill you and send you to purgatory to save his brother if you don’t love him. 

 Their relationship once they broke out of purgatory is where things began to sour, not because of anything either of them did to the other, but more the space they let grow. Regular Earth was different from purgatory and these men had to go back to their roles and say sayonara. “What happened in purgatory stayed in purgatory” and all that. Benny was a vampire and Dean was a hunter. That kind of thing mattered here despite the fact that they did care for one another. 

Dean and Benny’s tumultuous relationship in relation to the people in Dean’s life could be reminiscent of a queer experience in itself. A lack of acceptance from Sam, Bobby, Martin- Dean’s family. Not because of who Benny was, but what he was. Pair this with the already established fact that Amelia and Sam were a direct parallel to Dean and Benny, Season 8 has been one of the most blatantly queer-coded seasons as of yet. 

Which brings us to “Goodbye Stranger.” It is established early on this season that Dean feels that there’s something wrong with Cas, something off about him. The fact that they don’t know how he popped out of purgatory is just one part of it. It’s in the way he acts, how spacey he is, the fact that he doesn’t answer Dean’s prayers. “I always come when you call.” Cas once said. And he did. Until now.

This is another aspect of their relationship which is simply there and not spoken about much- similar to their staring and eye communication thing they do. Dean started their relationship unable to read all of Cas’ quirks very well and unsure of the guy. Now, he’s fluent in the language of Cas. He knows by tone of voice, by shiftiness, by his expressions- when something is up. Maybe he started paying more attention after the whole Rafael situation until he could read Cas like the back of his hand, or maybe he just started paying attention just to pay attention. 

He’s known something is wrong for months while Cas has been under Naomi’s control. Just the same as years later, he knows something is up when Lucifer is taking a ride in Cas’ body. And he knows in 12x15 just by the way Cas speaks on the phone that something is off with him. 

They come upon the angel tablet in the crypt, and Dean does fight back when Cas starts in on him, but he spends even more energy trying to get Cas to come back to him and fight whatever force has him under control. He never once stopped to think that this was just Cas. “This isn’t you! Fight this!” Dean would repeat over and over as Cas beats him nearly to death. 

There was a moment he certainly thought that Cas would kill him, and it seemed like he was more bothered by the fact that it was Cas that would do it more so than the thought of dying. 

Cas breaks through the mind control, heals Dean. Then he leaves. So, again, Cas leaves. He keeps doing that to Dean. I stated before that Dean’s abandonment issues come into play in this relationship, but unlike at the beginning where Dean saw a future that Cas stays in, this Cas keeps coming and going. This makes it difficult for Dean to trust him fully, to rely on him. But the fact of the matter is that he does still trust him completely, and that’s what bothers Dean. 

When Cas does come back again, collapsed and bloody in the middle of the street, Dean puts up a wall. He’s hurt and he’s tired. He doesn’t want to trust him as much as he does and he definitely doesn’t want him to keep coming and going without a thought. (What’s interesting to note here, though, is Dean’s change in character as this occurs through the years. Because while here he may simply give Cas the cold shoulder and not talk much about his hurt in this situation, we see later on in 12x19 after Dean has been fretting for days about where Cas has gone off to, and Cas finally does return, he voices his side of things. “With everything that’s going on, you can’t just go dark like that. We didn’t know what happened to you. We were worried, that’s not okay.”)

Naomi hits the nail on the head when she visits Dean after Castiel disappears and she notices Dean still hasn’t warded the boat against angels. It is moments like these that we realize just how much everyone else around these two also notice their chemistry and their deep devotion to one another, always seeming to fall back to one another. 

“I think you have me confused with the other angel. You know, the one in the dirty trenchcoat who’s in love with you.” - Balthazar S6

“The stench of that impala is all over your overcoat, angel.” - Crowley S6

“Castiel? Oh, he’s not here. See, he has this weakness. He likes you.” -Uriel S4

(to Dean) “Go ask him, he was your boyfriend first.” - Meg S7

“I have tiptoed through all your little tulips. Your memories, your little feelings, yes. I know what you hate. I know who you love, what you fear.” - The Empty S13

“And then after a rousing speech, his true weakness is revealed. He’s in love... with humanity.” - Metatron S9

“I’m sorry, did you just say that you lost a Winchester? Because, one, that’s... interesting. And, two, how is it that you lost Dean? I thought the two of you were joined at the... you know, everything.” - Kipling S14

“And for what again? Oh, that’s right, to save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you drape yourself in the flag of heaven, but ultimately, it was about saving one human, right? Well, guess what? He’s dead, too.” - Metatron S9

“Don’t lose it all over one man.” - Hannah S9

“The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell he was lost!” - Hester S7

“Oh, sweet. Almost anything. Castiel? He’s dead. All the way dead. Because of you.” - Miriam S13

“And then you’d kill the angel, Castiel. Now that one, that I suspect would hurt something awful.” - Cain S10

“He should know this- Lucifer, his favorite, isn’t doing so well. Say nothing of the vessel, your friend Castiel.” - Amara S11

“I’m gonna cure you of your human weakness, the same way I cured my own. By cutting it out.” - Isham S12

Bonus: Dean to Sam about Garth’s baby Castiel- Dean: “This Cas keeps looking at me weird.” Sam: “So kinda like the real Cas.”

It is time and again that opposing forces recognize the relationship between Dean and Castiel, and it’s commented on and used against them frequently.

As we move forward to the angels falling and human Castiel, this season opens up with dean in the hospital with a very ill Sam. The first thing he does before contacting anyone else is pray to Castiel. There’s a moment in 9x03 where Castiel walks into a church and speaks with a woman there. He expresses his lack of faith and she says, “I guess that’s why we pray. You need something stronger than yourself.” Dean never prayed until he started praying to Cas. He prayed to Cas during the apocalypse, in purgatory, when Sam was sick during the trials, now in this hospital. Dean might not have faith in God, but he does in Cas. 

Castiel is human, and while Dean tears apart the grid trying to find him while angels are on Cas’ ass, he still watches him die, then has to kick him from the safety of the bunker the very same day. Up until this point, Cas has been a genuine part of their family regardless of their squabbles over the past months, but kicking him from the bunker damages that. Once the reasoning comes to light, however, Cas is forgiving immediately. He’d forgiven Dean even before that. That’s one thing about Cas that Dean never seems to get over either. Dean can get angry and take things out on him, kick him from the bunker, make stupid decisions and nearly kill himself, holler at him, blame him, but Cas comes back every time. He forgives him every time. It’s already overwhelming when Sam does this, but the ease at which Castiel consistently forgives Dean is a lot. 

Dean gets the Mark of Cain. It’s a means to an end, he says. When he becomes a demon as a result, this is when his relationship with Crowley is deepened. This relationship is an interesting one because it’s essentially an unrequited example. Dean likes Crowley, and when he’s a demon he has a good time, but Crowley’s feelings appear to go much deeper- even if he tries not to show it. 

 It is very possible that Dean and Crowley’s relationship is a formation more as a result of a joke than anything else- where the writers are concerned. But whether that was the intention or not, this is a relationship that continues to affect Crowley’s actions towards Dean for the rest of the series. He doesn’t let Dean kill innocents as he’s a demon, he saves Castiel from certain death as his grace drains, he gives Sam the information to find Dean so he can be cured, and he aids in getting the mark removed from Dean even as Sam attempts to kill him in the process. In return, Dean gives Crowley the benefit of the doubt more often, and they share a sort of mutual respect. What differs here, however, from Dean’s relationships with Benny or Castiel, is Dean’s actions. It is clear that Dean doesn’t feel as deeply as Crowley does, so this is an interesting relationship to compare side by side with the others. 

Not only this, but DeanxCrowley in these first few episodes can be seen as a parallel with CasxHannah. Two unreciprocated relationships which do not last long in this particular phase, but do result in a friendship within these pairings as time goes on. 

Still with the Mark of Cain, Dean and Cain have a few things in common. Cain had said that his wife, Colette, before she died had asked him to stop. Stop the killing. It’s several months after that that Dean is going off the rails and Cas, behind Dean as he’s walking away, asks Dean to stop. He nearly kills Cas then, almost fulfilling Cain’s words just weeks earlier: “And then you’ll kill the angel, Castiel. And that, I suspect, would hurt something awful.” This is a direct romantic parallel written into the show. 

When the darkness is released, Amara and Dean are immediately drawn to one another through some sort of connection as a remnant of the mark. This relationship is another interesting one, because it ties in to true desire and consent. Dean is drawn to her, yes, and she is sold as a sort of potential love interest this season, but Dean himself doesn’t want anything to do with her. He’s hypnotized when he’s around her, but as soon as he’s away this energy dissipates. 

So in light of this storyline let’s talk about consent and the sexualization of Dean Winchester for a second, shall we?

Dean is an often highly sexualized individual. He plays along more in his younger days, but the older he gets the more frustrated he becomes with the whole situation. I’m sure there are more but here are some tentative examples (This is also something that happens to Sam a decent amount as well.): 

Wendy at the psych ward in “Sam, Interrupted” kisses Dean

Pamela touching Dean’s inner thigh in “Lazarus Rising” 

Ezra in “Time After Time” kisses Dean without consent

Gets turned into a vampire because he’s “pretty”

Pamela in “Dark Side of the Moon” kisses Dean

Almost becomes a vessel for Sandy’s mate in “The Thing” because she “enjoys looking at his face”

Amara kisses Dean in “O’ Brother Where Art Thou”

Mildred gropes Dean’s leg in “Into the Mystic” and continually makes advances even tho he’s uncomfortable. 

Random girl slaps Dean’s ass in “The Last Call”

Ellie in S8 wants to sleep with Dean and even kisses him randomly

Meg kisses Dean as he’s being held against his will in “Sympathy for the Devil”

Granted, there aren’t a plethora of examples, but it’s still a lot and it is interesting to see how often Dean has been sexualized for someone else’s pleasure. It is bound to work into his characterization as well, and his sense of self-worth. He’s often described as the pretty one of the brothers, and seeing as he is the more promiscuous of the two, it is assumed that he welcomes all of or most of the attention that comes his way.

It is for this reason in particular that the situation with Amara is bothersome to me. Not only is Dean taken advantage of physically, but his mind is essentially hypnotized whenever she is near, not giving him total control over his actions or desires. Amara is in part meant to be sold as a romantic interest, but throughout the season Dean continually expresses his discontent. He’s even ashamed to admit these feelings to Sam and Cas, even though he knows it isn’t his fault he still feels responsible. (Which, if we think about it, this is could be a queer allegory too. The lack of choice, feeling shame, etc.)

What is notable, however, is the day that they attempt to capture Lucifer and speak to Cas to get him to expel Lucifer from his body. Amara makes a surprise appearance and captures Lucifer/Cas herself. Dean yells to Cas. This catches Amara’s attention and appears to confuse her, and even Lucifer, seeing as when Dean is around her he’s meant to have eyes for just her because of their “bond”. His link to Castiel appears to be stronger, however.  

Amara uses this connection between Cas and Dean when she wishes to contact Dean, simply by placing her hand over Castiel’s heart. She says to Dean, “If you should cross paths, if (god) should reach out to you, he should know this - Lucifer, his favorite, isn’t doing so well. Say nothing of the vessel, your friend Castiel.”

If we backtrack a moment, Dean finding out that Castiel is possessed in the first place is a very emotional time for Dean. He doesn’t want to accept that Cas would make such a decision, put himself in that kind of danger, and choose to leave once again. Sam, the arguably more rational thinker at this current time, tries to rationalize that Cas may not come back willingly since he chose to let Lucifer in. “Not possible.” Dean says. It’s simply not possible that Cas doesn’t want to come back to them. It’s not something he can accept. 

The next several episodes are begun with Dean either losing sleep trying to figure out what to do about Cas, or simply moping about. Sam has to comfort him each time. This is notable behavior as well, because Dean isn’t often one to wear his heart on his sleeve this frequently. Certainly he has his moments, but much of the time when he’s distressed he simply buries it all down and puts up a front. He doesn’t do that here. In fact, once they do begin to put together a plan with Crowley, Sam thinks they should still utilize Lucifer in the fight against Amara but thinks it’s foolish to move him into a new vessel. 

((I actually counted up the mopey Dean scenes- between finding out Cas is possessed, to getting Cas back.))

There are four convos with Sam (multiple episodes) where Sam has to comfort Dean and say something along the lines of “we’ll get him back.” (Just as an aside, I don’t think there has ever been a scene in the series where Dean comforted Sam about Cas, it’s always Sam having to comfort a freaking out Dean)

Then, of course, there’s the scene where Dean comforts a victim and she says “I watched the man I love die. There’s no normal after that.” 

There’s the “It’s not an ‘it,’ Sam. It’s Cas.” scene. 

There’s Dean trying to get through to Cas when they capture Lucifer. 

There’s the Dean yelling “Cas?” to Casifer when Amara is in the room. 

There’s two more scenes where Sam comforts Dean again. 

There’s “The Chitters” episode with the gay hunter couple. (This isn’t a direct relation, but more of an honorable mention because it seems abstractly relevant)

Amara connecting to Dean through Cas’ heart.

Dean freaking out about making it to Cas in time and again talking to Sam about it.

Dean asking “what about Cas?” as they’re planning the attack with God against Amara.

Someone has said once that you can tell that Dean is in love with Cas because Sam isn’t. It’s in moments like this that this becomes readily apparent. Yes, Sam cares about Cas, of course. But it’s just different than the way that Dean cares about Cas. When Dean cares about certain people, this love weaves into the very fabric of his being and he just feels it so completely and overwhelmingly, he can’t simply not fight for it. 

“Dean, it’s a strong vessel, it’s held Cas for years, and we know what he’s been through.” Sam says.

“It? It’s not an ‘it,’ Sam. It’s Cas.”

Dean appears almost shocked that these words would pass through Sam’s mouth. He’s confused that Sam wouldn’t fight for Cas just as much as Dean would. The type of love they each have for the angel is just different. Visually, action-wise, reaction-wise. This conversation in “Hell’s Angel” highlights that. 

You know what else highlights it? The fact that when they do trap Lucifer, it’s only Dean who gets through to Cas and talks to him to get him to come back and expel Lucifer. It’s Cas only seeking Dean’s forgiveness in S7 when putting the souls back in Purgatory. It’s Dean in S6 being the only one to defend Cas in “The Man Who Would Be King.” It’s Dean later in that same episode being the one to get through to Cas in the circle of holy fire. It’s “I did it, all of it, for you.” It’s Dean carrying around that trenchcoat for a year and mourning when Sam doesn’t. It’s Bobby checking in on Dean mourning Cas, but doesn’t check in with Sam about it. It’s Sam pulling Dean out of the apocalypse world in season 12 as Dean screams for Cas and physically fights against Sam to get to Cas. It’s Sam seeing Cas dead on the ground minutes later, but still able to walk away while Dean is frozen in place, frozen in shock. It’s Dean being the only one to wrap up Cas’ dead body. It’s Sam always having to reassure Dean that Cas is probably fine, whenever he goes missing for a little while. It’s Dean hardly able to function in S13 with this encompassing grief over Cas’ death and yelling “It got him dead! Now you might be able to forget about that, but I can’t.” It’s S15 when Rowena tells Dean and Cas to fix their quarrel before it’s too late, and later Dean in purgatory not sure of it is too late as he’s praying for Cas to be okay and crying against a tree. 

Sam’s reactions are important to take into account. Sam cares, yes, but Cas isn’t as wholly encompassing in his life as he is in Dean’s. If anything else is to prove that, it’s the way that Dean grieves (I mean, if you were to put Sam in Dean’s place in 15x09 in Purgatory and their fight, there’s no way that Sam would react this extremely). 

There are three different points to highlight Dean’s grief. The first is season 7 with the trenchcoat, which we’ve already talked about. The second is when Cas is possessed by Lucifer, which we have covered as well. The most damning, however, is Dean’s season 13 grief arc following Cas’ death. Dean also loses his mother during this time and a few other friends, but considering how he reacts when Cas comes back, a great amount of this grief has to do with Cas. Dean completely loses hope and faith in anything at all during this time. He hates Jack for giving Cas false hope and getting him killed. He doesn’t believe in their mission anymore. He doesn’t believe anything matters at all. “Right now, I don’t believe in a damn thing.” Dean admits to Sam. When Cas comes back from the dead, however, he pulls a complete 180. He has hope again. He has faith. And all of it begins with Cas.

Lastly, Dean never hooks up with anyone again after Castiel’s final resurrection. We can go through an outline of the steady decline of Dean’s hookups and relations outside of Cas as the decade goes, but during this three year window specifically, Dean’s only pairing is Cas. Sure, he might flirt with someone every now and again, but this never goes anywhere. (Arguably the person he flirts with the most in any episode in these final three seasons is Daphne, but idk if that even counts much considering she is a cartoon.)  And as Pamela says once in Rocky’s bar: “Besides, you don’t want me. You just like to flirt. I’m psychic so I kinda know.” And that was just in Dean’s head anyways so it’s probably even more true than had Pamela actually said it herself. 

When Jack comes in the picture in season 13, and Castiel comes back from the dead, this makeshift little family is formed. All three men act as father figures to this half-angel kid at different capacities, and amongst this dynamic another is formed a bit further between Dean and Cas. They’ve already been acting a bit as an old married couple in recent years (Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets, anyone?) but this co-parenting scenario they’ve found themselves in has solidified this dynamic all the more as they collaborate on the issues that arise with Jack. In “Lebanon” when John Winchester comes back for a brief period, John even says to Dean that he’d hoped he would get a family someday and get out of hunting and such. Dean replies, “I have a family.” Sam, Cas, and Jack are his family. Cas has been family for a long time, but here and now Dean just isn’t looking for anything else or anything normal. He’s happy with himself and the people he’s surrounded by. He’s not looking for anything else or anyone else. 

For a change of perspective, let’s check out Castiel’s relationships over the years.

Unlike Dean, Castiel’s queerness and interest in Dean has been officially canonized. We can speculate all we want on the legitimacy of Dean’s love for Cas, but we can speak in certainties about Castiel. Castiel is in love with Dean Winchester. Speculation can come in when we consider, just how long has this love existed for him? Let’s start from the beginning.

Right off the bat when we meet Castiel, he’s a semi-emotionless soldier of heaven who works under strict orders and doesn’t have much free-will. Dean begins to change this. We can see even in their first couple encounters that Castiel is interested in Dean- in what he has to say, intrigue in the fact that Dean talks back to the angels (despite that these angels are unkillable beings and could smite him on the spot), the fact that he’s snarky and brave and questions everything. Where Uriel finds Dean annoying and blasphemous, Castiel finds the back-talk fascinating. Dean’s words impact Cas, and it’s not long before he starts to have doubts about Heaven. Following these orders blindly and unquestioningly starts to seem foolish when Dean puts things in a different perspective. 

Even after Cas undergoes what some have funnily dubbed “conversion therapy” in “The Rapture” (when Cas had finally decided on going against Heaven and to help Dean stop the apocalypse) it’s still not enough to stop him completely. A bit more time with Dean and he’s convinced yet again to help this one human man stop the apocalypse with his brother. He even dies for him and this new mission of his. 

Castiel throughout this first season is interesting because we see firsthand his struggle to understand beginning to feel emotions and accept thinking for himself. “For the first time, I feel...” He says to Anna. He wants her to tell him what to do. He wants orders because that’s all he knows, and he doesn’t understand why suddenly he cares. It hurts him to send Dean in to torture Alastair. It hurts him even later when in the beautiful room Dean dismisses him with a “What do you care, you’re already dead. We’re done.” 

It’s possible that in these first several months, or even these first couple seasons, that Castiel follows Dean around and does as he asks because he’s allotted Dean as the new being he serves. Because serving is what he knows. But it’s also through this that he begins caring more and more. He learns more how to express certain emotions, he learns more about humanity, he learns more about what is important in life and what is worth fighting for. As Cas will admit himself 12 years later, “Ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell... Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam. I cared about Jack... I cared about the whole world because of you.”

We start to see sprinkles of this especially throughout season 5 as Cas begins to come to terms with caring and adopting Dean’s mindset to care. Consider Sam for a moment. He and Cas don’t necessarily get along a lot and mostly just tolerate one another in these early days. However, as we see in “Abandon All Hope” when Castiel is captured by Lucifer, Cas gets visually upset at the concept of Lucifer taking Sam as his vessel. “You are not taking Sam Winchester. I won’t let you.” 

Sam and Cas don’t have much of a relationship at this point, but Cas cares because Dean does. In “The Song Remains the Same” not long later, he even refers to Sam as his friend.

By the time S6 rolls around Castiel is in the midst of a civil war in heaven entirely because he has adopted the Winchester’s all encompassing mindset on the importance of free-will. Castiel is making his own choices, and he does everything he can to protect the Winchesters from harm as he does so. He decides not to seek out Dean’s help while he’s raking leaves because Dean had already sacrificed too much in Castiel’s eyes. He raises Sam from perdition because he feels it the right thing to do. He re-sinks the Titanic to keep the boys from being killed by Fate. 

Personally, I think Castiel has been slowly falling in love with Dean this entire time, he’s just not aware what this feeling is. But this becomes even more plausible to me when we get Castiel’s perspective in “The Man Who Would Be King.” Cas cares what Bobby and Sam think of him, sure, but all he focuses on is Dean. Dean’s happiness and ensuring he not sacrifice more. Dean’s loyalty even as Cas seems to be guilty. Dean’s words when they capture Cas in holy fire. 

The problem is, their relationship this season is also rocky. Cas seems to think that he’s merely a tool at the Winchester’s disposal and not much else. But he doesn’t mind because he cares about them so much, so what do his feelings matter? He sees himself as their protector. Their guardian angel. A role he’s fine with filling regardless of how they feel in return. 

But when things get bad, Dean says to him “Next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things I have to family. You are like a brother to me. So if I’m asking you not to do something... You’ve gotta trust me, man.” and Cas seems genuinely surprised at this admission. Emotional, even. 

As time goes on, Castiel’s actions nearly primarily revolve around Dean

After Cas realizes his error and is sending the purgatory souls back to their place, he tells Dean repeatedly that he’ll find some way to redeem himself to him. That’s the most important thing to him then. 

When Cas smites the demons outside of the mental hospital in 7x17, all of his flashes of memories coming back were memories of Dean. 

Partially to aid Sam and partially to redeem himself to Dean, Cas takes on Sam’s Hell brain in the asylum and goes crazy.

Cas runs in purgatory to keep the leviathans away from Dean. 

Cas breaks out of Naomi’s mind control/brainwashing because of his feelings for Dean.

Let’s talk about that final bullet point for a moment. The Naomi chapter is damning in “Goodbye Stranger.” It isn’t copies of both Sam and Dean that Naomi trains Castiel to kill hundreds upon hundreds of times. No, it’s ONLY clones of Dean. 

“What broke the connection?” Dean will ask after Castiel heals him in the crypt and takes control back over his mind. “I don’t know.” Cas will say. It wasn’t the angel tablet. That may have unwound the last of Naomi’s control over him, yes, but he’d dropped that angel blade before that. It was Dean that broke that connection. Even if this remains unsaid, it doesn’t make it any less true. Maybe Castiel starts to have an understanding of what his feelings are and what they mean here, but he won’t be truly sure until he soon becomes human. 

Before we get there, though, we’ll take a brief pause to explore Cas’ heterosexual explorations and connections. 

First is Meg. Cas’ relationship with Meg is born of sexual exploration more than anything else at its conception. He’d just been watching porn in his downtime and when Meg kisses him, he goes with it enthusiastically. Later, he seems to have a certain infatuation with her in his “crazy” state, and seems to trust her perhaps simply because she had been watching over him in the institution. 

This is interesting because in his “crazy” state, Cas is a lot more raw and unfiltered and optimistic than he ever has been before. He compliments her, is concerned with her safety, and trusts her. On the contrary, with Dean, Cas is a lot more hesitant and even fearful when talking about certain subjects with him because of his past failings. He tries to keep the peace without directly getting involved because his direct involvement in the past had failed them all so spectacularly. 

He and Meg continue to have a sort of connection whenever they cross paths until her demise the next season, and he still holds a respect for her years later, continuing to use her nickname for him “Clarence” as an alias at various times. 

When Castiel becomes human in S9, he’s a bit lost and overwhelmed. April takes him in for the night. Although this is a short-lived romance considering she tortures and kills him the next day, for a brief enough time Cas starts to become acquainted with human romance and sexual desire. He loses his virginity to her. It is estimated by some that this is merely sexual experimentation on the part of a very confused newly human Cas, and others have used this to say that Cas is not gay but pan or bi. The conclusion in any regard, in my opinion, is purely up to the viewer. 

If I’m to offer my opinion, however, seeing as he has shown interest in both sexes, though remains unlabeled, I consider him simply an unlabeled queer person. Sexual identity and orientation has never seemed to matter much to Castiel, so I don’t see why it should matter to me. He loves who he loves, simple as that. 

When we get to Hannah, she provides an interesting foil to Castiel for a time, and an emphasizing expression on just how much he’s changed since his introduction to Earth and the Winchesters. Where Castiel has been open to a plethora of new emotions and experiences through the years which have made him a bit more human than angel at times, Hannah is still new to humanity and the range and movement of emotions that come with it. Just how little she seems to understand proves how much Castiel has grown and does understand by comparison. 

As such, he seems to pick up on the fact that Hannah has an attachment to him that appears to be forming into a romantic or sexual interest. He gently turns her down multiple times, not expressing interest in her behavior although he does respect her greatly as a person. Though this relationship isn’t considered romantic from Castiel’s perspective, its unrequited nature again is a good parallel to Dean and Crowley’s relationship at this same time. Angel x Angel and Demon x Demon. Both one sided.

Now, let’s get back to Dean. 

Up to the point that Castiel turns human, for however brief a time, he finally gets a look behind the curtain of human emotion. Now, we all know that Cas is in love with Dean already here- and probably has been for some time. Years, even- but it’s my personal belief that during this time turning human is when he actually realizes it and understands where these emotions come from.

Maybe it’s the heartbreak of Dean kicking him from the bunker, maybe it’s seeing Dean again when he shows up in line at the Gas n Sip, or maybe it’s somewhere in between when he sees two people on the street looking at each other and realizes “oh, that’s love. I know what that is. I felt that, too.” And every moment from then on he realizes what that feeling was in his chest when he looked at Dean for a little too long, or why it hurt so much to see the pain in Dean’s eyes at something Cas had done, or why hearing Dean’s prayers to him just felt different than they did with Sam’s. Why everything that he’d done since he rebelled from heaven was in the name of doing the right thing, muddled alongside doing the right thing for Dean. Caring because of Dean. Caring for Dean.

It’s during this time when he realizes what these feelings are, that he also must come to terms with the fact that they’re unreciprocated (or as he believes, anyway). This is for two reasons. The first, he still believes at this time that Dean kicked him from the bunker just because. And the second, if there’s anything that Cas took to heart from Dean’s example as strongly as the concept of free-will, it’s self-loathing. He doesn’t see himself worthy of love. Dean doesn’t see himself worthy of love either. They’re both messy piles of self-loathing that breeds into a blindness to the depth of care they hold for one another.   

Now that we’re on the topic of self-loathing, this leads into Castiel and his decision to become Lucifer’s vessel in season 11. Much like Dean, Cas has a consistent issue with seeing his own personal self-worth, so when the opportunity comes along to “be of service to the fight” and become Lucifer’s vessel, he takes it on easily. He considers himself expendable, and he won’t see just how much Dean struggles with this fact while he’s possessed. In fact, Cas never knows just how much Dean struggles with his absence at all, which is just one of the many divides between the two of them that could easily be resolved with communication, if either were ever good at that. 

Once Lucifer is shoved from Cas’ body, however, Dean makes a point to let Cas know just how important he is in his life. He’s said Cas was family before, but that was before the falling out at the end of season 6. Dean makes it clear that he and Sam both consider Cas family, once again, during a ride in Baby. “You’re our brother, Cas. I want you to know that.” 

Now, here, simultaneous heartbreak and love occur. Because while Cas is likely very much in love with Dean here, and very much aware of it, to hear that Dean simply thinks of him as a brother must ache a bit. However, we’re also talking about Dean Winchester, and for him to call someone a brother is an immense depth of love, probably the most the man is even capable of. Dean never says the words “I love you” to anyone, so this is about the closest anyone could get. Cas knows this, he’s well-versed in the ways of Dean Winchester by now. So, while it aches, his heart is also full. 

Comparable to:

“We need you, Cas. I need you.” 8x17

“We’re gonna shove your ass back through the eye of that needle if it kills all three of us.” 8x05

“Don’t make me lose you, too.” 7x23

“Don’t do anything stupid” 

The entire purgatory confession/apology prayer in 15x09

Cas returns this love just hours later, offering to go with Dean to die taking out Amara.

If we jump forward to the divorce arc of season 14-15, we can hit upon the next great heartbreak of Castiel’s sad little love life. While the Winchester brothers, Castiel, and Jack have all become a family unit, Castiel never wants to lose that. But two things happen. First, Cas’ deal with The Empty is made, and somewhere along the line, silently, he becomes aware that allowing himself to be happy, and that happiness, somehow involves Dean. The second thing that happens is Jack kills Mary Winchester, and Dean says Castiel is dead to him. 

So, The Empty won’t take him, but his family is broken apart. Castiel never gives up on a single family member, though. That’s the thing about Cas. The same way he consistently forgives Dean for all his behaviors over the years, he never loses faith in anyone in this family. And when they come to reunite, he’s happy simply in appreciating any and all time they have together, however brief.

Then, in true Castiel fashion, he sacrifices himself for Dean Winchester in 15x18. 

Their relationship has always left things unsaid, but I don’t think there’s ever been a question on whether Dean loves Cas or Cas loves Dean even if they don’t talk about it. You can’t look at Cas and Dean’s faces seeing each other again for the first time in weeks at the end of “The Last Call” and say that there wasn’t love and heartbreak there. On some level I think that Cas knew that Dean loved him back, but Dean was so buried in trauma at that point that it might take him years more to realize what he actually felt and what he needed. But Cas is such a selfless lover that he was absolutely 100% fine with just being around Dean for the rest of his life, even if he never got a chance to tell him how much he genuinely cared for him, and never got that reciprocation back. Castiel’s love for Dean is so pure and selfless it’s overwhelming to even consider, but for someone like Dean it would be a hundred times harder to accept or even fathom someone caring about him as much as Cas does. 

So Castiel never pushes Dean further, never suggests, barely even touches him. The only liberties Cas takes are small touches to heal him (even though he doesn’t need to touch a person to heal them), a few small hugs through the years, just sharing comfortable space inside the impala, small moments watching Dean’s favorite movies with him, or sharing a moment over beers in the kitchen. And Cas’ happiness was in telling Dean how much he loved him likely because then maybe Dean would actually see how much he was worth. Cas wanted Dean to know how much he loved him and how he viewed him, because Dean deserved to love himself and was worthy of it. 

The five types of love languages are as follows:

Words of affirmation

Physical touch

Gift giving

Acts of Service

Quality Time

One of the reasons Dean and Cas miss the mark with one another so often could simply come down to love languages. A lot of the time, what a person needs in love language is often what they also give. I don’t think this is the case where these two are concerned, though. They’re both so sacrificial that it’s difficult for them to accept this in return, even though this is what they each offer to the other and anyone else around them. 

Both Cas and Dean’s giving love language is “acts of service” which translates into sacrificial actions much of the time, though it can also be more domestic than that as well. It’s Dean grabbing an extra beer for Cas or making food, or it’s Cas healing Dean without any prompting, Cas loading up on pie and beer at the Gas n Sip when Dean’s mad at him. 

What they each need, however, is different. Dean needs “quality time.” He needs his people close, he needs them to answer calls, and he needs to know where they are. This clearly ties in to his abandonment issues, and it hurts his relationship with Cas significantly when the angel just keeps leaving, or disappears without answering his phone for days at a time. And when he dies, obviously. He always comes back, though. And half the time when he’s gone it’s because he’s trying to get a win for Dean against whatever issue the team is facing at the time. 

What Cas needs, best I can tell, is “words of affirmation.” Cas has a consistent problem with thinking that he’s worth less than he is, and is less important to the people around him than he is. Dean obviously has this issue, too, but with Cas it’s somehow infinitely worse, if that’s even possible. Frequently, what he needs to get him going in low points is a few words from Dean or encouragement in general. To name a few:

“Maybe to fix it.” 7x17

“I’d rather have you, cursed or not.” 7x23, Cas then goes with Dean to find and kill Dick Roman

“I’m not leaving here without you.” S8 in purgatory when Cas wanted Dean to leave him behind but Dean was having none of it.

“You’re our brother, Cas.” 11x23, after Cas was possessed by Lucifer and thought he was expendable. 

Over time, Dean does get a bit more vocal with Cas about issues he’s having or just with encouraging words as well. Cas, too, sticks around a lot more. They’re not perfect but they do begin to grow and work with one another in these later years to give one another what they need most to see how much the other is loved. 

In conclusion, there is a significant amount of romance and sexuality written into this show, and simply interpreted as well. And that’s the thing, when a queer person says that they interpreted a certain piece of media as queer, it’s not up to someone else to say that they can’t, or shouldn’t, or that they’re interpreting something wrong. That’s the thing about media, it can have so many different interpretations and meanings to so many different people. 

It’s my personal interpretation to see the queerness embedded in the text here. Maybe it’s not there for another person, and that’s cool too, just don’t tell me how I should see it. The fact is that it was written into the show to be interpreted, and interpret is what we did. 

I’d love to hear any feedback that others may have regarding this. Any other theories, different interpretations, things I may have missed. I hope you enjoy the edits, and the endings I put together for them. We all need a little bit of happiness after that ending, so I hope it leaves you with a lighter heart. :)

Much love,

Taylor

[elriell]

Thank you very much! I find it hard to cut them back and be less detailed to be honest. So let’s dive in to it, two quick points before we start;

There will be no hate here as every ship is valid, I simply going to explain why I believe Elriel is more likely to happen than Elucien. (IMO)

Secondly, if there’s one thing for certain with SJM it is that nothing is certain with her.

Of course like any reader I am nervous for what might happen but looking at it textually speaking I do not think we have much to worry about... Not to mention that if we look at SJM past behaviour we can extrapolate several things.

When Sarah falls in love with a character she is very willing to shift all plans to accommodate them, we have a good example of this with Rowan, once she began writing him she fell in love with him and Chaol was quickly pushed aside. I am sure she has done plenty of interviews saying as much from memory.

SJM Live

- Azriel has a lot of shit going on that we’re going to be able to see in this book.

- Azriel’s song is Mr. Brightside for the vibes. Not necessarily the lyrics. SJM is kinda obsessed with him and telling his story in the future.

- We’re getting to see more of Azriel’s cheeky humor in this one.

 - SJM can’t wait to see theories after everyone reads Azriel’s pov. There’s a lot of crumbs that have been scattered around for his journey.      [ref]

It is safe to say that in her own words Sarah is obsessed with Azriel, which gives us a good idea about who she wants to write about next. This is the same vibe we got off her when she was introducing Rowan to the TOG universe and I think it is a pretty easy assumption to believe the next book is Elain’s too.

Not to mention SJM is not afraid to shake it up and swap out the LI you think it will be, Chaol/Rowan & Tamlin/Rhysand. It is not far fetched to think she would do the same with Elain and Lucien. Not to mention the idea of such a repetitive story ARC like Mates (after Feysand and Nessian) could easily be avoided by doing something like a rejected-bond or second bond.  

I really could not tell you what I think Azriel’s ARC/what he is dealing with is because we have so little information on him all I know is I cannot wait to read it all. He is easily one of my favourite characters, he is so mysterious to us. 

I think Elain’s ARC is going to be all about choice. And we know from SJM that you can have more than one mate.

Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—”“You belong to him.”“I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”

“to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

As far as I am concerned if you look at all SJM couples from all her books there is always that initial Spark™ and I think that impartially if you look at Elain and Lucien they have not had it at all (bar maybe the moment he scents the bond), Elain is completely disinterested in him. In the bond as a whole.

“if it wasn’t for Vassa.” A twitch of the lips, a spark in that russet eye. “She’s doing well enough. Savoring every second of her temporary freedom.”

Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald.

See? SPARK, literally and figuratively.

You could even argue that she was you know, really struggling at the time the bond snapped in to place so it wasn’t the time for them but then we are given Azriel as a mirror to the situation and we see despite her troubles she is capable of interacting with someone without disinterest. Can and has been attracted too, can smile and laugh with someone despite being upset over Graysen.

Examples;

“You’re welcome to stay for the night,” I said, since Elain certainly wasn’t going to. Lucien lowered his hands into his lap and leaned back in the armchair. “Thank you, but I have other plans.” I prayed he didn’t catch the slightly relieved glimmer on Elain’s face.”

“Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?” But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded—just once. Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm.

“And do what?” “Spend time with her.” “I don’t think she’ll tolerate two minutes alone with me, so forget about two weeks.” His jaw worked as he studied the fire.”

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.

“You as well.” A sidelong glance toward Elain, swift and fleeting. “Both of you.” Elain said nothing, but at least she bowed her head in thanks.”

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. Whether he cared about such things, I had no idea, but I sent him a silent prayer of thanks for his kindness before Rhys and I slipped upstairs.

“There were only a few presents left—Lucien’s. [...] I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it. “Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.”

“He cares for you.” “He doesn’t know me.”

“You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.” Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.” 

“You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?” “It means nothing,” Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—”“You belong to him.”“I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”

Again like I said, textually when we look at it all together Sarah is not exactly planting the seeds for them at all, now of course there is still time for that to change, and of course we only have a limited perspective but as a reader it doesn’t come across positively. Even if you consider Nessian who have been against each other from the start have had the seeds planted, even as they argued they had tension and emotion.

Sarah has given Elucien so little of anything positive or negative comparitively, it is like the are barely registered. 

Not to mention she puts across Azriel as a candidate time and time again, and as a writer you would not do that for nothing.

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.

“You know them better than I do. But I will say that Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.” “So is Azriel.”

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” “I’d keep that question from Lucien.” “I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?”

“What if”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

SJM is sowing doubt at every turn. Then to top it off we are introduced to Vassa through Lucien, and now we finally see him have a spark, blush, and speak of her with almost worship as Feyre points out.

“I …” Lucien fumbled for the words. Not out of some lie or excuse, I realized a moment later. Realized when he said, “I’ve been at the Spring Court every now and then. But if I’m not here in Velaris, I’ve mostly been staying with Jurian. And Vassa.”

“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.”

Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” 

Now, I can understand the belief that Elucien could be endgame but you simply cannot deny that before that Elriel & LucienxVassa is going to have to be explored to a degree. 

“Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we …”Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?”

“I …” Lucien fumbled for the words. Not out of some lie or excuse, I realized a moment later. Realized when he said, “I’ve been at the Spring Court every now and then. But if I’m not here in Velaris, I’ve mostly been staying with Jurian. And Vassa.”

We also see both couples paralleled. I mean in all honesty I could go on and on and on, there is so many qoutes that I could add but this will just get longer and longer. I am going to link my full Elriel Analysis, and some other stuff about them and rejecting the bond below.

As for our fox boy Lucien!

I really like him, and I do feel like he has a very interesting journey ahead, between his true paternity, Vassa and the mating bond he has a lot coming up for him. I am excited to see where the band of exhiles might take us, despite Feyre’s mockery I am excited that after so long of not belonging anywhere he may have found people to call his own.

Look if Elucien happens after a genuine build up, I will be happy to read their journey, of course I will be very disappointed for Elriel because I truly believe they are the best fit but I am not against Elucien if anything I think Sarah is, more than anyone else.

Like I said I could go on for years, and honestly in 9 days hopefully we have a better idea of the future to base our opinions on. 

I am tagging this Anti-Elucien, not that I feel it is but I don’t want Elucien shippers to have to see it, so if they blacklist the tag the can avoid the negativity ❤︎

[Elriel Meta] [Elriel Kindred Spirits] [Elriel Choice 1 & 2] [Garden] [Thoughts]

[demirendil]

「 4AM, you finally came.. 」   (one-shot).

It was nearly 4AM when the rumbling of the thunder made the wooden floor against Serkan’s body shake. He had been lying there for a few hours, inert and eyes closed; his irregular breaths were the only proof that the man was still alive. The wide open curtains let some light inside the pitch-dark room, lightning flashing across the sky for a fifth time, revealing the state of the summer house’s master bedroom. It had been left untouched since the last time they’d both been here. Sheets that still held her scent, pillows against which her head rested were laying on the bed, a moment frozen in time that he hadn’t dared to disturb. The mirror in front of which she stood that morning, fixing her earrings, was covered by a small woollen blanket, hiding the glass debris from his last anger fit. He had stared at his haggard reflection for a few minutes before throwing the glass of water he was holding in hand, hoping to erase traces of his guilt from his eyes, to smooth the pain out of his forehead wrinkles.. alas. The cold seeping from the squeaky wooden floor helped calm him a little.. it was the only part of the house left that wasn’t mocking him with yet another memory of her.

She was everywhere, and traces of her made his heart race.

She was everywhere, and guilt ate him up until it was too painful to stand.

She was everywhere, yet her absence made his soul ache until he collapsed on his bedroom floor and let sadness consume his soul away.

Another booming sound made the windows violently shake, and a startled Serkan hissed as his right hand landed on a pile of glass shards. He plopped himself onto his elbow and absently looked at his bloody hand before turning to the door and staring into the darkness.

She won’t come, she doesn’t wanna see me ever again..

Three days prior, he watched her leave his parents house like a storm, holding her head in a panicked state. His mother had told her everything, and she was long gone before he could attempt to stop her. He had asked his mother to stay out of it less than an hour before, and yet there he stood in shock. She’d found out the truth and left without looking back. He had lost his chance to explain himself, to drop to his knees and beg for her forgiveness, to maybe catch a last glance of her face.. because Eda Yıldız was gone, and her broken eyes were the last thing he had laid eyes upon.

After driving around town looking for her for the past two days, Serkan had decided to go back home -his summer house, the place where he last saw her smile and let himself get lost in her embrace. She’ll come back, he’d whispered to himself the prior night, before he let himself drop on the floor of his freezing cold room.

thump, thump, thump

Serkan blinked a few times, before laying on his back again.

thump, thump, thump

Serkan sighed as he opened his eyes again and turned his head towards the window. The rain was only slight pouring, a few cats might have infiltrated the property again.

thump, thump, thump

He let a frustrated grunt out before jumping to his feet and looking out the window. The lights in the garden were off, but he could discern a silhouette kneeling over the plants in the veranda. Hair flowing in the violent wind, the girl was actively shoveling the wet soil with a small wooden log. He chuckled at the sight before him and shook his head. She was throwing a fit even in his imagination. She was a dream, she would never show up after finding the truth out. She could only be a dream, not even his prayers would make her come back for him. She was definitely a dream, but he had to check for himself.. just in case.

Grabbing another throw blanket from the corner armchair, he quietly made his way to the hall, and out of the house. The lights were still off in every room, but he could see her clearly through the glass sliding doors. She was sitting on the lowest step leading to the gazebo, and was attempting to move the small petunias to dig more holes in the ground. The moon was casting a light all over her, and he wished he could catch a glimpse of her face, trace the lining of her soft jaw with his eyes, feel his heart melt at the sight of her plump lips. He was facing her back however, and her abrupt frustrated movements were a reflection of her state of mind. Cladded in a thin black shirt, she was shivering as the pouring rain continuously soaked her garment. That shirt.. his shirt. Serkan took a deep breath and slid the door open.

"Eda...”

He saw her jump in her spot and hold the wooden log up as a weapon, before she turned around to see him towering over her. Her eyes never met his, she quickly turned to her gardening like nothing had interrupted her labor. The rain soaking Serkan's hair wet made him snap out of his reverie. He grabbed the blanket that was slipping from his hand and put it on her silently, still watching her every move, unable to say a word. “How did you know I was here?”, she finally muttered. Serkan didn't reply and adjusted the blanket around her shoulder before stepping away and sitting on a cushion, facing her.  Her eyes were dark and focused, she looked like she hadn't slept for a few days. A permanent frown now adorning her forehead, she was biting the inside of her cheek as she continuously stabbed the soil.   "There's a few rocks under there, you might wanna try a different corner"" Her head snapped back up, her eyes shooting daggers at him "No, this is perfect". “It's 4AM, you’re going to freeze here” "Just go home” "I am home" He saw her roll her eyes, so he added "This is home. I live here now. I moved out of my parents’ house. " Eda dropped the log in her hand and finally looked at him. She tightened the blanket around her arms and shoulders and tilted her head, studying his face. He could see a million questions flash in her eyes, but she remained quiet and proceeded to grab a small tin box from her pocket. He recognized the little container where she kept her flower seeds, a gift from her mother she always held on so dearly. “I forgot to sow them here as well, I wanted to plant a few in this spot.” Serkan shuffled a little more towards her and watched her grab a few seeds and position them in the little holes she had formed. "Are .. are you sure you don't want to plant them a little further.. there's more space in the garden", he mumbled. He was trying to be as nonchalant as possible, but his shaky raspy voice had betrayed him. He had expected her to throw things at him, scream and shout, but Eda sat in front of him with unnerving composure, as if nothing had been wrong with the world. "No it has to be here. Right here." Here.. Right where time had stopped for them and all voices but theirs had been silenced. Right where he had kissed her like there was no tomorrow, and promised himself he would hold onto her until the end of time. Here where the two of them had confirmed their love for each other, and let happiness take over for a night. It was a little over a week ago, but it seemed like an eternity for Serkan Bolat. There they were again, sitting right where passion claimed their hearts, yet their souls had never felt so apart from each other. The rain had slowed down while Eda was busy covering the seeds in fresh wet soil with her bare hands. The uneasy silence was weighing on his chest, but Serkan found himself unable to say another word. His anxiety grew as he watched her shake the dirt off her hands and jump on her feet, ready to leave again. He trailed behind her, as she determinedly walked towards the house in her dirty wet clothes, when she abruptly turned to face him again.

"What about your mom?"

Serkan stopped in his tracks and lowered his gaze towards her. She was so close, he could feel her familiar scent engulfing him already, like a poison intoxicating every cell of his body. He gulped again, the lump in his throat thickening with every breath he took.

"My mom?"

His eyes found hers, confused, full of concern, sadness that buried the life that used to burn inside her. It tore his heart apart, it made him so angry. At his parents, at himself, at fate that had so long played with his own life and had decided to mess with her as well.

"Eda how can you be thinking of my mother right now?", he shook his head in disbelief.

"I know it pains you to leave your mother behind, after all she’s been through. I see it in your eyes, it’s killing you."

She was staring at him more intently and Serkan couldn't handle the proximity anymore. He stepped away, catching his breath, holding his head as the tension reached his temples.

"I can’t, I can’t do it. I can't do this anymore. I can’t stay there, I can't be under the same roof as them knowing what my dad has done Eda. What he's done to you Eda."

"And yet, you’re taking responsibility for it all Serkan".

Her calm and cold demeanor was driving him crazy. Serkan pushed inside the house and started pacing in the living room, unable to stay calm.

"How are you so calm Eda? How can you think of them right now, how are you not angry at them?"

She grabbed the blanket still hanging around her shoulders and threw it at him.

"I AM angry Serkan, I am so angry I want to scream my lungs out!"

"Then scream, shout, say something Eda, I can't handle seeing you like this."

"Stop telling me what to do Serkan, stop trying to control my feelings, STOP IT!" she yelled, throwing the one tin she was holding in her hand to the floor.

Hundreds of tiny seeds were already scattered on the floor before Serkan could even react. In a moment, Eda had collapsed on the floor, in panic..

"Oh no, no, no.. Mom.. no.."

Serkan hurried over to turn the lights on and ran towards Eda kneeling on the floor when a punch landed on his shoulder, and another, and another.

"I don't need your help! Stay away from me!"

Her cheeks were glistening with tears and he felt his hand reach her face, wiping away her sadness when another punch pushed him further away from her. She grabbed a pillow from the couch to her left and threw it at him, before she pushed his chest again, hit his arm, his shoulder again. Serkan just closed his eyes, taking it all in, the sound of her sobbing hurting his soul more than anything in that moment. A final slap to his face startled the both of them, and Eda finally gave in and dropped to her knees in front of him.

"Stop ignoring me Serkan Bolat! Fight back! Do something!"

Her disheveled hair was sticking to her face, patches of dirt tracing her jaw, his black shirt still clinging onto her skin. He moved forward, and grabbed her face with both his hands, desperately trying to calm her down. Eda finally closed her eyes and softened at his touch, bringing her own hands up to hold his own. Her icy cold hands melted his soul, and he felt the walls of his heart crumble down as an ocean of overwhelming emotions flooded every bit of his being.

Tears filling his eyes, blood gushing out of his palm, he couldn't hold it in any longer..

"Your hand.."

"It's nothing..", he whispered as he rested his forehead against hers.

"I hate you.."

"I know.."

"It wasn't your decision to make.."

"I had to.."

"I promised to be your breath for the rest of time, but you took my breath away and ran from me.."

"Eda.."

He felt her eyes on him, piercing through his soul, asking so many questions, so many whys he was not ready to answer yet.

"Look at me..Serkan look at me."

"I can’t look you in the eye Eda.."

"Serkan.."

She pushed herself away from him and he held her wrists in his hands, unwilling to let her go, yet unable to look at her hypnotizing chocolate orbs.

"They.. my parents..", he took a deep breath before carrying on. "My family is the reason you lost yours, the reason you lost your childhood"

"They stole your childhood too Serkan.", she retorted.

"This is not about me, Eda.."

"No, you’re right. It’s about us, the both of us."

He felt her finger on his chin, raising his face to meet his broken eyes.

"I don't think I can forgive them, any of them.. my grandmother, the people behind the accident, your dad, his company.. but you.."

"Eda, I'm the heir to that holding group, I'm my dad's son, I am just as responsible as-"

Unable to finish his sentence, Serkan dropped his head down, shivering as his chest tightened again in anger and frustration.

"You're not."

He sensed a tear drop on his cheek, and felt his heart dropping at the sight of her sudden tears mirroring his own.

"I don't blame you Serkan.."

She kissed his tear away and his chin trembled, before he collapsed in her arms, quiet sobs escaping his throat. He felt her hands slid around his shoulders and hold onto him, like a plea for him to stay. Tightening his grip on her, he felt her heart race against his chest, as his own slowed down to a regular pace.

"You're punishing the both of us Serkan..", she whispered in his neck.

"I've only brought pain and anger to your life, all I've managed to do is make you cry and break your heart. I'm just like my dad, I destroy everyone I get close to.."

"That's not true.."

"I love you..",

He felt her tears on his shirt and wiped his own, before planting a kiss on her shoulder.

"But I don't deserve you.."

"Yeah, you don't", she sniffed. He backed away to take a look at her face, and his eyes softened when he saw the small smile on his face.

"You're a coward"

"I was never the courageous one."

“You make me go mad, I wish I could stay away from you.. but I feel like my soul is being shredded when you’re not around..”

“I’m sorry..”

"I'm not leaving"

"I don't want you to."

She nodded and slid on the floor to rest her back against the leather couch. Serkan looked around him, screening the dirt and the seeds scattered all around the carpet.

"We should probably get them back in your tin box".

She shivered and hugged her own arms before shrugging "No, just let them grow in the middle of the living room, let them invade your house."

Serkan chuckled and settled next to her, his left arm warming up against hers. "Yes, tiny little laurel trees in every corner that will remind me of you at any moment".

Eda turned around to look at him credulously, and smiled as she remembered the night they had watched the stars in front of Apollo's Temple in Antalya.

Feeling her eyes on him, Serkan turned around and raised his eyebrows.

"What?"

"You're no Apollo".

"I'm not?", he smirked.

"You're not... And I'm not Daphne. I don't wanna run away from you."

She slid her hand in his and laid her head back against his shoulder. "I'm not a tree you can set on fire and leave behind you Serkan."

Burying his face in her hair, he whispered "No, you're not.. you survive every fire and spread your beauty all around .. just like a protea.."

Eda let go of his hand and turned around to look at him, big eyes, mouth slightly open in shock "How do you.."

He sighed and muttered under his breath "I may or may not have read your little flower book.. the one you were carrying in your bag on the first day we met".

Tears were pooling again in her eyes, so Serkan grabbed her wrist and softly ran his fingers on her forearm, visibly trying to change the topic.

"We should get out of these wet clothes"

"Serkan..

"You also need to sleep, it's nearly 5-".

Serkan stopped in his tracks as she gently cupped his cheek and ran her finger against his skin, resting her forehead against his.

“You may not believe in fate but I do.. they left me first, but I know they sent you to me.”

“Eda..”

“Serkan let me.. These scars have been slashed open and it’ll take time.. a really long time to let them close back up peacefully.. I know your scars are just as deep as mine, and I won’t let myself heal if you’re not healing with me.”

He let a sigh out he didn’t know he was holding and nudged his nose against hers.

“I still hate you, Serkan Bolat.”

“I love you, Eda Yıldız..”

[dawning-star]

Seeking . . .

The task she had been given was simple in nature, yet in some ways it seemed everything but that. Finding just any place could be easy. Finding an area more alive with aether? Maybe that was a little less easy. Yet more and more these days she was becoming aware of it. Gaining a feel for the world. A new perspective even. Connection. It was odd, almost an unintended side-effect to actually focusing with a purpose. Beyond merely trying to complete a task and channel.

Or was it all a part of the training and the man far more cunning than she sometimes gave him credit for. Honestly, she wouldn’t put it past him, yet that thought wasn’t at the forefront of the xaela’s mind. Far from it, in fact.

The search had sparked a bit of an internal debate for the woman, with each barefoot step she took along the shroud, heading further from home fulm by fulm. Seeking, ever searching for that little place to report back with and complete the assignment handed to her. So that the next step could properly begin. However that would go.

That idea of furthering her own growth excited her...yet terrified her at the same time. It was hard for her to put into words, or would be if anyone had ever asked her about that. Truth of the matter was though, she’d yet to confide in anyone those steps that she was about to be taking. Rinalys was truly on her own here, one foot effectively in front of the other, quite like each step she now took. Her right foot which connected her with the land, the left merely mimicking lest she fall on her face. It was quite likely she would never truly grasp a feel on that side ever again.

At least, beyond the pains that still wracked it on a rare occasion. Somehow she knew that wasn’t about to go away. For a blessing, such a thing was infrequent. Though it had been some weeks since the last bout.

Shaking such thoughts from her mind, the woman would ease back into the task at hand. Feeling the earth, seeking and sensing what felt right for her. Deeper such steps carried her into the Shroud, the Twelveswood being the only land that felt really right to explore for the goal. It had saved her once, surely it would help guide her along the path of her growth. That was what she felt at least, and ultimately the choice was hers. As well as to continue the path...or well, start on it in a sense. That first chakra.

Otolin had provided her with an example. Or well, shown her how his worked, the strain it had on him in turn. The first had been no surprise to her, having seen it some moons before. But he had gone further when the topic had come up about hers. Frankly, she hadn’t been prepared. Likely still wasn’t in some ways. It also left her wondering what would...or could happen. Sowing that seed of fear for worst case scenarios that may or may not come to pass. Yet it would be her own hill to climb, wouldn’t it? For better, surely in the long run. Rin knew she wouldn’t grow otherwise, no matter how taxing each step from there on would be. For a grace she had his guidance for as long as he would offer it to her.

For now though, her steps on the path carried her further, deeper within the Southern fringes of the Shroud. Along earth, grass and flowing waters to where sparse crystals marked the land. The place, Urth’s Fount was it? Somehow along the way she had gone past the kalongs, boars and keds to come to a stop there. Thoughts and senses really had consumed her in the process. Yet it had paid off. Or so she thought, unless she misunderstood her task entirely. The feeling she had told her she was on target, however.

“This could do nicely. I hope.”

- - - - - - - -

Something something @stone-xiv mention because he's probably going to make her suffer soon.

[shimmershae]

My thoughts on Episode 8--For Blood

As always, placed behind a cut for those of you that would rather escape my babbling, lol.  You’re welcome.  

Sadly, I don’t think this is anticipation I feel.  I’m pretty sure it’s dread but okay.  Here we go.  

This episode has to go up from the rock bottom boredom of last week, right?  

Let me preface what I’m about to say with the truth that I in no way hate Maggie.  She’s been with us since Season 2 and I have an emotional attachment to her, mostly due to my love of Glenn and the way he loved her.  She’s not my favorite by any means, but the fact of the matter is, I do like and appreciate her and don’t mind that she is back because it’s nice to have old familiar faces with us to take us into the final season.  That said?  Forcing Maggie front and center after her long absence ultimately, IMHO, has not worked in these first 8 episodes.  I can’t help but feel if ASZ had been the A story with Maggie/Negan and Daryl/Leah/the Reapers the B1 and B2 story?  These episodes would have been better received overall and not feel so much like they’re trying so hard.  Maybe lead me toward the water instead of shoving my head in it next time, Angela?  Hmm?  

Oh goodie.  They’re opening at Meridian.  Should I get my bathroom break out of the way now or give myself an out for later?  Call it Shae’s choice, lol.  

That flicker of a smirk Leah gave to Carver after their mini walk down memory lane had more spark to it than the entirety of her and Daryl’s toxic relationship.  In the future, maybe Angela will lean all in on them instead of Leah and Daryl.  Something tells me Leah knows this “brother” biblically.  

Daryl recognizes Whisperer moves when he sees ‘em.  Somehow, he realizes Maggie and Negan have banded together however reluctantly.  

Pope doing it “Dixon’s” way but not allowing Dixon to do the actual thing shows the level of distrust and paranoia the man still haves for outsiders. 

Look at Daryl chewing his lips with worry for his people.  If he and Leah know each other even a little bit, she has to recognize that as one of his tells.  

Ooohhhh.  Who took the first stab at Wells?  Maggie?  Negan?  Father G?  I swear.  I took my eyes off the “ball” one second and the whole damn play is halfway down the field.  Sorry.  If you cannot tell, I watched football with the fam yesterday, lol.  

The Walking Dead logo didn’t crumble this time.  Interesting.  Parts of it looked like it had been rebuilt.  With brick.  Wood.  Other parts of it looked reclaimed by nature.  Call me crazy, but that almost looks like an eye/part of a face on the first D.  

Okay then.  Babbling nonsense about the logo over, lol.  Tell me.  Please.  Anybody.  How do the events at ASZ line up with the events at Meridian?  Because it’s night and full-blown storming in ASZ and still daylight at Meridian.  But hey.  Thank fuck we’re in ASZ.  

All the babies huddled together giving me feels.  Sorry.  I know some feel they have no place on the show, but I personally enjoy their inclusion from time to time.  It usually plucks hard at my heartstrings.  

Connie tenderly comforting an injured Virgil is sweet, not gonna lie.  

Aww.  Is that Hershel petting a scared RJ’s hair?  Unless it’s a case of me not being able to pick out and place all the little hands, which it most certainly could be, I’m thinking Judith’s got her hand on her knee and that’s Hershel’s hand in RJ’s hair.  Regardless of whose hand is where, it was a sweet little scene.  What can I say?  I’m easy because Baby Glenn and Baby Rick, ya’ll.  

Oh snap.  The windmill’s on fire and pieces of the wall are blowing down main street ASZ like steel tumbleweeds, lol.  

Anybody else having flashbacks to the barn from Season 5?  Good times.  We still had most of Team Family with us then.  They were in a bad place, hurting and lost and just trying to survive--when are they not just trying to survive?--but they were together.  I miss them.  

Carol and Lydia holding each other.  These two, lovelies, have my whole heart.  

Wells is Walker Jerky, Shaw.  Stop wasting your breath.  

“She did.  My enemy.”  I mean, are we supposed to get the impression Maggie’s been a formidable adversary to Pope?  Because she feels more like a roach that simply knows the best rocks to hide under.  Granted, roaches are hard to kill but still.  I’m gonna need them to give us something better than Maggie being Pope’s enemy simply because she didn’t want to give up her home without a fight because this is frankly unbelievable and bordering on stupid.  

Alright.  So they’ve obviously been sowing the seeds of distrust and defiance between Leah and Pope because she doesn’t like losing family but Daryl?  Man?  You and Leah have differing opinions about how family operates.  Trust me on this.  

So.  Three teams, huh?  Aaron fighting the windmill fire, Carol repairing the breach in the wall, Rosita protecting the babies that represent their future.  Choose your fighters, lol.  Seriously, though.  Why do I have the sinking feeling only one group is going to be shown actually doing their thing?  

Listen.  Am I pissed we haven’t gotten the scene we deserve yet between Carol and Connie after all that’s happened and we’re getting crumbs mainly because Angela wrongly feels the Reapers/Maggie & Negan/Daryl & Leah need more focus?  Absolutely.  You bet your sweet asses.  But Melissa fucking McBride just took the crumbs allotted her and made a magnificent, work of art cake out of it trying all on her lonesome to feed us starving Carol fans.  

Bless Connie wanting wanting to go with Carol.  What a show of trust and sister-like solidarity that must have some hate-rotted guts about to turn themselves out.  

I love Kelly and Connie’s sister bond.  No ill will intended, but It takes the good parts of Maggie and Beth and elevates it beyond anything those two ever showed us.  I really feel like that’s a testament to Angel and Lauren’s real life ease with each other.  

Magna choosing to go with Aaron makes me wonder if it’s possible she feels some kind of residual guilt over Connie.  Not guilt for anything she’s actually done, but simply guilt over making it out.  

Virgil volunteering to help.  Okay.  Damn.  I’m honestly starting to like the guy.  

Judith offering to go with her aunt Carol had me all up in my feels.  I mean, granted.  It was a blink and you miss it scene.  We really deserved a longer heart to heart between that little girl and the woman that’s sacrificed so much to keep her safe and loved her for so long, but you know I’ll gobble any and all Judith/Aunt Carol content up.  Seems to me, Little Ass Kicker is just as afraid of letting Aunt Carol out of her sight as Uncle Daryl.  My heart.  

Gracie and Aaron are sweet.  And honestly?  I find them more realistic and true to what normal parents and children would be like in a ZA than Judith and Michonne no matter how much I love that bond.  I mean no disrespect, but I really do.  

“Why am I keeping you around?”  Pope asking the question we’re all wondering.  

Not Apocalypse Popeye comparing Daryl to a stray dog.  Joe from the Claimers already declared Daryl an outside cat that thought he was an indoor cat.  I did have to internally cheer when Daryl was like “I’m ain’t gonna lick it” talking about the helping hand Pope had extended him.  

“Somehow she has turned the dead against the living.  Oh, that’s impressive.”  The thing about Pope respecting Maggie so much as an enemy is I just find it hard to buy, lol.  Like if this had been Carol, yeah.  But Maggie?  Nope.  They’ve mostly shown her (with Gage being the bewildering exception) to be all bark and no bite.  

Has the house in ASZ really become that dilapidated that they can see through its walls?  Because its original owners dodged a bullet if so.  

Look at Grace hero-worshipping Judith.  It’s sweet.  

Virgil telling Judith Michonne would be proud of her is nice but doesn’t feel as earned as if someone like Daryl or Carol that actually knew Michonne well said it.  But maybe that’s the whole point--Judith needs to hear it from someone she knows isn’t going to just say what she wants to hear.  

Call me jaded, it was a touching scene, but also?  It felt designed to allow Judith to move beyond her very normal and realistic feelings of being abandoned by Michonne, even though she gave her the “okay” herself.  Like she’s still a kid.  Wants don’t always line up with feelings.  Anyway.  Cailey continues to be a bright, shining little star and I love how she’s managed to make Judith a true amalgamation of all the people she’s loved who have loved her in return.  Not just Michonne.  I know people like to overlook and cheapen the fact, but it’s taken a village and entire family to raise her from infancy.  

Gracie really should have known better than play in front of the windows during a storm period, but oh well.  Plot point, lol.  

Seriously, though.  I feel like they’ve teased poor Gracie’s demise in a multitude of ways since the beginning of the season.  I hope nothing ultimately comes of it but I fear it will.  All I can say if the worst comes to happen is poor Aaron.  

Where are Negan and Elijah though?  Ouch.  There they are, taking on shrapnel for the cause.  

Ready the what now?  

There’s ASZ’s Baby Sitter Extraordinaire!  Barbara, is it?  That lady’s been putting in the work since Season 5 at least.  

I’ve honestly grown to love Rosita.  More of her and less of Maggie, please and thank you.  

“Let’s stay away from the windows.”  I’m sorry but I had to LMAO at that.  Still a badass moment though.  

Gabe hobbling toward his assigned sentinel.  At least they haven’t forgotten he’s injured like they seemed to forget Daryl was near death last season before the attack on Hilltop, lol.  

“It’s hard to watch something you care about change.”  Listen, Leah.  Chick.  You and Daryl obviously never really knew each other.  It’s always been obvious but I have a feeling “DIxon” is finally going to show you, spoilers or no spoilers.  

WTF are they calling that thing?  Sorry.  I have just as hard a time understanding Pope’s accent as I do Maggie’s sometimes.  

That’s not love that has Daryl telling Leah she can come with him.  That’s care for somebody he used to know.  There is a distinct difference that’s obviously lost on so many.  How can you really and truly love someone you cannot trust?  Especially in Daryl Dixon’s case?

Why does Angela hate us so much?  Giving us all these Reaper scenes and leaving us to simply imagine Carol and Connie and Kelly working side by side to save the wall?  

I think I honestly could have enjoyed this whole Reaper storyline more, at least a little bit anyway, had they not retrofitted a half-assed romance between Daryl and the story’s weakest link and if only they’d made it the B storyline and given earned deference to the goings-on in ASZ instead.  

I wonder if Glenn taught Maggie how to hot write a car?  I miss my baby Glenn.

Apocalypse Popeye is several fries short of a Happy Meal.  What else is new on this show, lol?  

I care for Maggie.  Mostly for nostalgia’s sake and Glenn and Baby Hershel but damn, man.  She’s not actually proven herself got be worth killing your entire “family” for.  But are too far gone, so.  We’ll make allowances.  

I will say at least this episode is not as abysmally biring as last week’s episode.  

Leah finally giving Pope the throat punch he’s been asking for but I’m not fooled she’s on Daryl’s side here.  She’s always been on her own side.  

Look at Father G returning the favor for Maggie saving him in the tower.  Taking Deaver down!  Poor Deaver barely saw the light of day.  

Here comes that woman scorned part.  I can feel it.  

“Pope is dead.  Dixon murdered him.  He’s with the enemy.”  

Please, Angela.  I’m begging you.  Bring Carol into this story and ramp it the fuck up.  You been idling too damn long and the car is fast running outta gas.  

Bitch really has to die to framing Carol’s Pookie.  

Rosita and Lydia and Carol and Connie and Kelly and Magna have literally been holding up this damn show while Angela farts around with the Reapers bullshit.  Honorable mention goes to Aaron but these lovely, badass ladies been putting in the real work and not getting any of the glory.  You just know they’re tired AF.  

Not my babies Lydia and Judith being the cliffhanger!  Oh and Gracie.  Angela?!  A word.  

Listen.  Carol’s already done that fireworks trick.  That Reaper dude owes her royalties.  Granted, it was on a smaller scale but much more impressive for it because she was left to be the sharpshooter.  

Angela has a point.  It is kind of cool how Team Family have learned from their enemies and assimilated their useful points into their own cache of knowledge.  

I truly feel like the Leah/Reaper storyline would have benefitted from a much stronger actress.  Just saying.  

I know Judith annoys some with her precociousness but Cailey just keeps teeing off on what they give her and personally?  I feel she’s so very talented and light years beyond her little acting counterparts so it still works.  

“They’re never gonna choose each other over the people that they’ve loved and fought for because they simply cannot really trust each other.  There’s sort of, like a toxicity at the base of that relationship.”  Straight from Angela’s mouth.  

“At the end of the day, Daryl chose his family.”  Yeah, he did.  That “I belong with you” shit only happened when he felt they were all gone, including the one he loved above all others--Carol.  Fight me.  

Overall impression of the episode?  

On its own, disregarding how much I can’t help resenting how much time I feel has been “wasted” setting this story up, it was much more entertaining than Episode 7 which was only epic in that it was an epic bore.  There was still too much focus on the Reapers when I just just kept wanting to see what was happening at ASZ.  I mean, they cheated us out of Carol and Connie and Kelly working together. Of Aaron and Magna.  Call it personal preference coloring my opinions if you want, but the characters I care about feel like they’ve been shown the backseat for this self-indulgent exploration of Angela’s OC and her version of self-insert FF with Daryl Dixon.  If we can return to Team Family?  The whole Team Family and not just Maggie and Co. against the world?  You’ve got me.  If not?  Well.  You’ll keep losing me by degrees and you don’t want to do that on the final season.  

Anyway.  The ASZ parts were my favorites per usual.  The episode could have used a lot more of those.