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lampmanliveblogs · 2 years

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Uh oh.

Looks like the Blight siblings are grounded. That’s not good, Amity’s gotta be there. If not as part of the Hexside Alliance, then to help Luz out. Luz is gonna need all the power of love she can get to protagonist her way through this.

Although… this might help them convince Alador to flip that switch.

I feel like I should make a joke, hold on…

Odalia: ”Hiding behind trash, Amity?” Amity: ”I apologize, I mistook it for you.” Amity: ”Oh, I’m sorry, I was dumpster diving for a better mother figure.” Amity: ”I think it’s unfair that you’re calling me out for hiding behind a bunch of trash when Ed and Em are still hiding behind a massive pile of garbage. Oh wait, that’s just you.”

You can now cross ”Character quote” off your Lampman Bingo card.

Meanwhile, over at… I think they were in Latissa? Meanwhile over at the CAtTs headquarters, the briefing of the big plan is just about to begin. The reason why I paused here instead of listening to the whole thing is because I noticed something odd.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but… have we ever before seen Eberwolf sitting normally before? I didn’t know you had it in you buddy.

Anyways, I guess I should also mention that Eda advised King to keep his status as a Titan a secret for now. Child of a god-like giant or not, he’s still just a little guy. And unless he gets a surprise growth spurt in the next few hours or so, he’s gonna stay a little guy.

Oh, and they got their hands on some coven scout disguises which will no doubt be useful in the Plan. Let’s hear it Sickan.

The plan itself seems sound enough. But remember what I said before? About how a heist where the audience knows the plan beforehand will inevitably go wrong? It’s not going to be that easy, is what I’m saying.

Like I predicted, the plan relies on using Eda’s curse to corrupt the spell and cancel it out. The tricky part is that she will have to take over the role as Bard Coven Head Witch, including the sigil. Not sure how they’re gonna go about that, Eda does not have a great track record when it comes to disguises. None of them know any illusion magic either… well, maybe Steve knows some. He’s the only one with access to any type of magic.

I like that Lilith offers to take Eda’s place as she now shares the curse with her. She doesn’t get to finish her sentence, but I feel like she wants to do it to apologize again for the curse, and perhaps more importantly, redeem herself for all the bad things she did as part of the Emperor’s Coven.

As Eda points out though, Lilith has only had the curse for a little while and she doesn’t know how to control it properly. I’m just saying, we haven’t seen her with a cool harpy mode (even thought it would be totally awesome)

And don’t think I don’t notice how uncomfortable Raine looks, they’re clearly not happy about Eda being put on the frontline. I get they want to protect her, but Eda is an adult who can make her own choices. And, well… the world is at stake here.

Oh, and I almost forgot! Darius mentions that Belos made sure there are replacements for all of the Head Witches. Presumably if one of them calls in sick. Hey, it’s that time of the year now, everyone’s been sick.

And, well… do we know of any method Belos has used to replace people in the past?

Grimwalkers, I talking about grimwalkers.

Okay, I guess I DON’T get to find out what Luz’ palisman is this episode, because she made an egg for it to hatch from. Still, you know what hatches from eggs? Titans! King got his wish from last episode after all!

Also, birds hatch from eggs, so it might still be a bird like I predicted.

The previous shot showed this weird little family embracing each other lovingly. This one shows them more from a distance, smaller, and with the Emperor’s airships moving slowly overhead, as if to symbolize the enormity of what they’re up against.

While Eda and the other grown-ups of off to save the world, Luz and King will head off to rescue Amity (and I guess Ed & Em can come along too). Luz hesitates, as she wants to be there too, and lets face it, she’s the main character, she’s going to be there once all the action goes down.

(boy, will i look like a fool if it turns out Luz never makes it to the head in time)

#the owl house #liveblog #the owl house liveblog #toh s2e20 #clouds on the horizon

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taiblogcomics · 2 years

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Mettle of Honour

Hey there, technical difficulties. Well. Hoo boy. This one's probably been a long time coming.

So, like. We've been reviewing mostly fun things the last few months. A while now, even. We've had it good too long. Now it's time to review something I actually hate. And I do mean hate. I will probably get actually angry at parts of this review. For the next while. Because it's finally time. It's been a while. In fact, it's been almost ten years by now. But we're finally gonna review all 18 issues of Avengers Arena.

Yeah, you remember this shit? This stupid-ass, edgelord series? When the ol' execs at Marvel got together and said "Hey, you guys seen that new Hunger Games thing that came out last year? (Because it's 2013.) Let's get some of our C-lister teens and do that!" And oh boy, if you remember my review of Heroes in Crisis, you can guess how much I love the idea of killing off C-listers, especially teens. Especially when you get actual characters I care about involved. Because this shit's not even an isolated series! No, this goddamn piece of trash is a follow-up.

Yeah, this little feculant little pile of dreck was actually a sequel to another series that I actually liked and recommend: Avengers Academy. The premise here was, basically not every teen hero can be Miles Morales (who was not mainstream yet) or Kamala Khan (who did not exist yet). But you get what I mean. Here's your washout teen heroes, your problem kids. The ones voted "Most likely to someday become a supervillain" in the hero yearbook. So we're gonna send them to remedial superhero school and teach them to be better--or at least have an eye on them for early warning signs.

Fantastic. That's a great idea for a series! And I actually did love it, it was a terrific premise. You got Reptil, that kid who turns into dinosaurs they made up to promote that Superhero Squad show, as your token "actually a good kid". Mettle, a surfer boy who turned into a cross between Colossus and the Red Skull. There's Hazmat, the radioactive girl. And a few others that aren't going to be relevant to this series! Put them in a school, have some of our equally problemic superheroes (such as Speedball, finally restored from that stupid-ass decision to turn him into Penance) on hand to teach 'em, and build some character dramas out of that.

And they did, and it was great! Which leads us to here. I guess we can finally talk about this thing, starting with the cover:

Haha, do you get it? It's like Battle Royale, that other popular movie about teens murdering each other. Do you get it?? Isn't that cool and edgy?? Ugh. I guess it'll sell to whoever you're trying to reach with this garbage. I will say, though, I do kind of like the seal making up the logo, at least. The tilted As going around in a ring? That's at least neat visual design. That's about all the credit I'm going to give here.

While we're here, though, since I don't have much else to say about the cover, let's get this out of the way instead: the author. Now, I'm not gonna mock the guy too heavily. I understand editorial mandates, and as far as I know, the guy was only hired to write this series, he didn't come up with it himself. And I won't pick on him too much for that. But oh boy, here's the expected joke: It's really not a good look for your teen murder comic when the author is literally named "Hopeless", is it~? That really puts you in the right level of expectation from the outset~

Anyways, I might as well keep putting off reviewing this and introduce our cast! I mean, you'll get to know them while the series is going, there's character focus and stuff. But as far as I know, there's no quick sitdown "who's who" of our characters, so I might as well give you a reference guide.

Reptil, Hazmat, and Mettle - I intro'd them above, but they're the ones we're inheriting from Avengers Academy.

Nico Minoru and Chase Stein - Oh no, they dragged poor Runaways into this dreck, too, didn't they? Chase is a dopey tech guy, and Nico is a goth magic user.

Juston and his Sentinel - From the series Sentinel. Juston's just a kid, but he's clever enough to make an old mutant-killing Sentinel into the Iron Giant.

X-23 - The opposite sex clone of Wolverine from a variety of X-Men works. Kind of telegraphed to be the main survivor, considering she was already lined up for another series after this.

Darkhawk - Classic '90s character with his own eponymous series. Transforms with a magic amulet.

Cammi - An obscure teen with a space gun from a Guardians of the Galaxy series. And, like, this was before that movie came out, so I mean really obscure.

Red Raven - Possibly even more obscure, a legacy hero to another character from the '40s. One of the bird people of Aerie, she actually debuted in the same comic that introduced Squirrel Girl. No wonder we haven't heard of her~

Deathlocket - Invented for this book, she's a teen girl version of Deathlok, and therefore has cyborg powers

The Braddock Academy kids - Also all invented for this book, they attend Captain Britain's eponymous academy. Intended to be the breakout stars and get their own spinoff, it ends up that all of them suck and I hate them. Probably so did everyone else, since they never got that spinoff. You've got Apex, Nara, Kid Briton, Cullen Bloodstone, and Anachronism. Five doofuses we don't actually care if they survive because they were invented for the story, and thus kind of defeats putting them in a death game. And speaking of that death game...

So we open with Hazmat running through the woods, her helmet cracked and radioactive gas(?) leaking out. She's also monologuing about how much she loves complaining and being a hater, and as someone who is reading this comic, I can relate. That's the whole reason I'm here! That's not why Hazmat's running, though. X-23's after her. Yeah, that should get anyone to run. Even blasting X-23 with enough radiation to roast her face off doesn't slow her down. As X-23 pounces on her, Hazmat also muses that she's ready to die. Once again, right on the reader's pulse here.

We dip back to the initial incident. One of the main things with Mettle and Hazmat is that they ended up in a relationship because they're immune to each other's powers. Mettle's metal skin protects him from Hazmat's radioactive nature. They can interact and provide for each other things and sensations they can't otherwise feel! So, yeah, in short they're looking for a place to, shall we say, get their groove on. And just as they're settling in for an intimate moment, there's a flash and suddenly they're somewhere else.

All the teens are hanging in a magic floaty ring over a burning field, and we get our villain of the piece. I think this one of the big missteps of the series, beyond just making it in the first place. So the foe here is X-Men's recurring loser Arcade. And you can tell an "edgy" series when they take a long-existing character that's generally perceived as a loser and ramping them up to uber-god levels. And that's what they've done here. Arcade's no longer just an ineffective goon who builds deathtraps that don't work. He's got long hair now.

This whole scene is here essentially to jerk Arcade off for the audience. It really screams "Look at our villain, he's so cool and completely untouchable!" That's basically what this is, too. Arcade appears, announces his plan to set up a fancy fight of 16 teens killing each other, and even references that he got the idea from a couple books he read while in the slammer. You know, coz if we're lazily gonna steal a plot concept and everybody knows it, why even bother to hide it~? Once he's done gloating, he releases them, and a fight breaks out.

This is where the real villain shilling starts, because continual loser baseline human Arcade continually dodges around and tanks hits from the various teen heroes. Like, the same blast that cooked the skin off X-23 a few pages ago? Doesn't even singe his tacky white tux. So yeah, the only way we can make our villain threatening is by turning on the god-mode cheats. Great way to start. He knocks the kids around for a while, then gets bored and decides to start the game. He'll start them with a choice.

THe guy with the axe, Anachronism, he rightly points out that just because Arcade's gathered them up and beaten them up doesn't mean a bunch of heroes are gonna start murdering on his say-so. And Arcade launches into a tiresome little spiel about the human condition, and basically that some folks probably are killers deep down if you push them the right way, and he's betting at least a couple are on his sick little island right now. So that's his deal. Someone's gonna die right here, and if no one's willing to do it, he'll do it himself. He doesn't really care, he just wants to get off on seeing teenagers die.

And there isn't really any debate. Nobody starts whispering among each other. Instead, Hazmat just steps up to the plate and blasts the asshole with more radiation, telling him to shut up, no one's interested in playing his game. As I said, Hazmat's really echoing the reader here. But as cathartic as it is, Arcade just shrugs it off again and decides that since Hazmat is clearly struggling with the rules, she's the one who's gonna die. But before he can kill her, her boyfriend Mettle steps in and instead offers himself as sacrifice.

And so Arcade murders him.

And not simply, either. Like, he could just put a magic bullet in him. But instead, he makes this poor boy, this mutated surfer from Hawaii who was victimised by his own power and then also Norman Osborn, he makes him violently explode. Thankfully, they do it in silhouette, but it is still needlessly gory. Also, black dude dies first, if you want another reason to feel shitty about this.

Mettle was an extremely likeable character back in the Avengers Academy series, so I am just absolutely disgusted to see his character arc stop here. And you could argue this is still a heroic death, but no. There's nothing noble about volunteering to be a psychopath's victim, even to save the girl you love. What a shitty thing to do. And to make it even more shitty, that's how the book ends: with Arcade going "Welcome to Murderworld" while Hazmat is actually covered in her boyfriend's viscera.

Like, fuck this comic. Fuck this whole series. Do I really need to go into depth here? This is actually where I stopped reading when this first came out, actually. Like, I gave it a look, and the first impression totally soured me. So we’re gonna find out all these bad things together! Don’t worry, I’m in a good place personally to be doing this right now. I strongly encourage you to read something better instead of this, however. Like the ingredients list on a bag of chips, or the TV guide listings. Virtually anything would be a better read than this~

#comics #reviews #Avengers Arena #Taiblog

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motownfiction · 2 years

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is it supposed to look like that?

Usually, Steph is a great baker. Her strawberry cheesecake could solve all the world’s problems (at least, that’s what her mother is fond of saying). Her chocolate chip cookies could remind anybody of what it’s like to be five years old on a crisp autumn day when all you care about is love and safety and kindness. She even makes a killer pecan pie every Thanksgiving, which she’s pretty sure is the main reason the Doyles always invite her to their family’s dinner celebration. Usually – normally – Steph is as great a baker as she is a painter. After all, there’s a little bit of art to baking. How could she not be good at it?

The question feels like a slap in the face when she thinks about apple pie.

It all begins in early October of her senior year. Sam taps her on the shoulder with his pencil in their study hall and says that he has the phantom taste of apple pie in his mouth.

“But not, like, normal apple pie,” he said, like it made any sense. “Not the kind you get at Abby’s or whatever. The kind my mom makes. You know, with the caramel.”

“I guess I know,” Steph said from behind her sketchbook. “Didn’t we just have that, like, two weeks ago?”

“Yeah, but I want it again.”

“Are you asking me something?”

“Wanna try making it?”

At the time, Steph had no reason to say anything but yes. She likes baking, after all. And how hard could it be to follow Maggie’s recipe for caramel apple pie? Steph has worked through Maggie’s recipes before, and they’re very straightforward. Very detailed. This one couldn’t be much different. By the end of the school day, she and Sam drove down to the market, picked up the things they needed, and headed to Steph’s house to bake a pie.

Everything went wrong. The crust tore. Sam cut two of his fingers while slicing the apples. The caramel refused to melt, even when they put it on the stovetop. Somehow, Sam got salt into the filling. He said he knew that salt and caramel sometimes go together. When Steph asked him why he thought now was the right time to test that theory, he just sang, “Moonlight feels right” and turned on the TV to an unrecognizable low-budget movie on a local station.

“Ooh!” he joked. “I love this one.”

Steph rolled her eyes and put the pie in the oven, despite the voice in the back of her mind telling her to throw it in the garbage.

Some time later, the pie is finished baking. Steph’s arm shakes as she pulls it out of the oven and sets it on the cutting board to cool down. When she gets a good look at it, she feels like she might fall through the wooden floor and never come back. Before tonight, she didn’t think there was such a thing as a steaming pile of shit. But that’s exactly what this pie looks like.

Sam turns his head to the side and squints like he’s the first guy to ever see Guernica.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” he asks after a long pause.

Steph smacks him on the shoulder with her dish towel, and he flinches like it hurts at all.

“Stop it,” she says. “What did we do wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Sam says. “But I’m willing to believe we’re cursed. Apples and all that. Feels very Eden to me.”

Steph rolls her eyes again.

“If I didn’t love you, I’d hate you,” she says.

Sam chuckles warmly, and Steph loves him in spite of herself.

“I know,” he says. “I feel the same way about myself.”

Steph sighs and grabs the keys to her mother’s car. She figures she owes Sam (and herself) something. They drive to Baskin-Robbins with Talking Heads on the radio, and the caramel apple pie fades into their distant memories.

#drabble #writeblr #ch: steph armstrong #ch: sam doyle #ship: forever afternoon #year: 1984 #food

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olivyh · 2 years

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More format-less hc

So I tested positive for covid shortly after senior prom (which my school said was like the super spreader), and have been feeling like garbage since monday, so have an angsty hc/thought

TW: Mentions of illness, death if you squint and uhh tuna ig bc things go better in threes

Since Yuu is from another world with different diseases, they’re no equipped for the different viruses that can go around twst. This means that a common cold for yuu, since their body isnt used to it, could hurt them much, much more than it would hurt a person native to twisted wonderland. They dont have the natural immunity that everyone else has.

Imagine Adeuce making fun of yuu for falling sick over something that everyone gets as a kid, brushing it off and going about their day. they start to get worried when yuu doesnt show up to class the next few days, which turns into a week. crewel (since we all know crowley isnt doing much) takes them to the infirmary and, without any barriers to magic, magical solutions do nothing for them. that week turns into a month, and that month turns into two. The students don’t know what to do, the dorm heads are scrambling to find a solution because without yuu’s help, nrc has fallen into the disarray that it was before they got there.

the first years don’t care, they snap at their seniors and spend every available moment by yuu’s side. they still host their study sessions, just in the infirmary rather than the library. they still talk to their friend, even if their friend hasnt woken up since that first week. ace wishes he hadnt made that joke, he thinks its his fault that yuu fell so ill. he cursed them, he thinks. deuce tries every single of his mothers remedies, and laments every time they dont work. jack leaves the finished notes and schoolwork by their bed, and he feels a part of him sink whenever he sees how large the pile had gotten- so large that he had to move part of it to the floor. epel talks to yuu as if they can listen, pacing back and forth and ranting who knows what, mostly vils still-strict skincare regime (although he uses those same techniques on yuu, when he notices that they look particularly….gaunt, and pale. he doesnt want them to look like a ghost anymore). sebek can only stand and stare at what used to be his first friend besides silver. he’d known that full humans can get terribly ill, and that fae recover much faster than most species, but seeing it in person sends a chill down his spine. he returns to diasomnia in silence for the first time. grim is inconsolable, refusing to leave his dormleaders side even when offered the most expensive tuna there is, even when bribed and pulled at. he only ever leaves to take care of the dorm, which shocks the rest of the student body. the tanuki claims that he absolutely has ti keep the dorm clean or yuu will be upset with him. in reality, he cant stand to look at their sickened face anymore.

or malleus, spending every moment yuus other friends arent there by their side, quietly telling them stories from his homeland or trying his best to help them magically, but even he knows theres not much he can do without hurting them more. visitors soon notice little things among the gifts, small flowers, intricate jewelry (that is, jewelry that is much different than the gifts from the dormleader al-asim), small statues and books, and… who left a used “gao-gao dragon-kun” toy?

if they do wake up, the rest of campus will never take their presence for granted again, nor will they ever be alone ever again.

if they dont, i mean hey, ghosts exist in twisted wonderland! (really trying to bring the mood up here guys)

this turned out a ton more sad than i wanted it to, and i made myself sad, so im gonna go get myself a popsicle and skip

more of my online classes

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland headcannons #twst angst #twisted wonderland angst #twst yuu #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #malleus draconia #grim twst

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bensolosbluesaber · 3 years

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Returning a Favor (Zemo x Reader fic)

TFATWS Ep. 4 Spoilers!!

Summary: When your old friend, Sam Wilson, needs your help in Riga you drop everything and go. You knew they broke Baron Helmut Zemo out of jail, but you didn't expect to bond with the villain. (AKA: I thought getting hit in the face by the Shield would at least leave a bruise. Here's how that would go down with a fourth person.)

CW: Blood, wounds, some creepy behavior (not from Zemo), a few Y/N inserts

No smut yet, just cute cuddles and taking care of each other. Maybe smut in the future though! Let me know if you want a Part 2 or added to a tag list for potential future fics! I think the reader can be any gender; I tried to write it that way and be inclusive, but please tell me if I messed up!

If you know me in real life, no you don't:) I write most of my fics on @aurora521 and write on AO3 and fanfiction.net under the same name. Please don't come for me about finding Zemo attractive.

Hope you enjoy!

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Returning a Favor

Meet me in Riga. -S

That was the text you received from Sam Wilson, your old military friend, yesterday. And now here you are, outside the Riga airport walking toward Sam in traditional undercover superhero attire- a baseball hat and sunglasses.

“Thanks for coming,” he greeted. “We have a little problem.”

“Is his name Baron Helmut Zemo by chance?” You asked, following him to a jet black sports car.

You were very aware of just what type of trouble Sam was getting himself into since you, a SWORD agent, still had access to all kinds of classified information.

“See for yourself,” Sam muttered, gesturing to the back door of the car and climbing in the driver's seat himself.

You hesitated for a moment, then opened the door and slid into the back. And yes, Zemo was there, lounging back with legs spread. He’s wearing a long coat with fur lining, a deep purple shirt, black pants, and shiny leather shoes. He nods to you and smirks ever so slightly. Bucky Barnes, who you had only heard about but recognized immediately, turns from his spot in the front seat and smiles at you.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N,” he says.

“And I you,” you respond.

Sam pulls out of the parking lot with a screech of tires. The ride is mostly silent, Sam and Bucky bickering occasionally. That made you smile, knowing that as much as Bucky annoyed Sam, this was the type of relationship he craved. Zemo watched you the entire drive, sizing you up.

The home they’re staying at is obviously the Baron's. He’s comfortable there, leaning against the counters, rifling through cabinets, lounging on the couch.

“So what am I doing here?” You finally asked.

The three men interact easily, and either Sam or Bucky is always watching Zemo. There’s no real need for a fourth person to get involved, at least not in your mind.

“Someone needs to babysit the Baron,” Sam explained with an annoyed sigh.

Zemo shrugged with a smirk so innocent it’s sinister. He’s still wearing that ridiculous coat.

“The two Avengers can’t handle him?”

“I believe your friends find it challenging to be around me,” Zemo answered for Sam.

“You shot a man in the head yesterday!” Sam snapped. “You antagonize Bucky at every turn. Forgive us for needing a break from whatever is happening in your fucked up head.”

Zemo tilts his head as if agreeing with everything Sam had just said.

“Anyway,” Bucky interrupted. “We have a lead on Karli. You can sleep off some jet lag while we’re gone, but starting tonight it’s your turn to keep track of him.”

You settled into a small bedroom. The moment your head hit the pillow, you fell asleep. At home it’s nearly ten at night; here it’s midday.

The trio is back all too soon, heralded by a slam of a door, and you force yourself to wake up to adjust to the time change as rapidly and effectively as possible. As you open the door to the living room, Bucky is stalking toward Zemo. He grabs the teacup from Zemo’s hand and hurls it against the wall.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” Bucky growled, staring at Zemo with an unnerving glint in his eyes.

“Take it easy. Don’t engage him,” Sam jumped up and grabbed Bucky’s arm. “He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.”

Bucky’s face softened slightly. Zemo stops tilting his head.

“Let me make a call,” Sam says and walks away.

“You want some cherry blossom tea?” Zemo offers Bucky with a mocking tone.

“No. You go ahead,” Bucky hissed, and after a moment of staring, he followed Sam out of the room.

You had watched Zemo for that entire exchange, noticed the slightest flinch and hint of fear when Bucky had grabbed that cup. The moment the other two men are gone and Zemo thinks he’s alone, he pours himself another cup. His hand is steady, but he draws a sharp, unsteady breath.

You move out of the room, and Zemo looks up at you from his spot on the couch. Without a word, you walk into the kitchen, taking a roll of paper towels and carefully picking up the shattered glass.

“I can do that,” Zemo says, speaking directly to you for the first time.

His voice is calm, accent thick.

“It’s alright,” you answer, then gasp sharply as a piece slices your pointer finger from tip to palm. “Fuck.”

You set the bloody piece with the pile of glass and hold a paper towel to your hand. You used the other hand to wipe tea off the wall and floor before picking up the glass piled on a paper towel and placing it in the trash, carefully tucked in other garbage.

“Let me.”

Zemo’s voice behind you makes you jump. You eye him for a moment wondering if there is some ulterior motive, some way he could hurt you or hold you hostage. Nothing comes to mind, not with Sam and Bucky so close, so you hold out your bleeding hand. He clicks his tongue at the wound.

When he takes your hand in his, his fingers are soft and warm. He moves your wound under a faucet and lets water run, rinsing the blood down the sink. He squeezes the wound a bit, and you wince as it begins to bleed more.

“We bleed to clean our wounds. It is the body’s way of protecting itself,” he says and presses a towel to your finger as he shuts off the water. “Ironic isn’t it. The very thing meant to protect us from future danger, often kills us first.”

“I’m not here to debate the ethics of superheroes with you.”

“Hold that,” he lets go of your hand and opens another cabinet. “I know how I feel about enhanced humans. There is nothing for me to debate.”

Zemo takes your hand back in his. You watch his face as he works. He uses his mouth to remove the wrapping from a butterfly bandage. The bleeding has slowed, and he uses the bandage to pull your torn skin back together. The cut isn’t terrible, certainly not the worst injury you’ve ever had, but it will scar. He adds two more strips, then places an absorbent pad over it and wraps it all in gauze.

“When we get back, I’ll change that for you.”

“I’ll hope you don’t get killed then,” you offer with a grateful smile.

He doesn’t respond but gestures to you to join on the couch. You do, keeping what you feel is a safe distance between the two of you. Zemo hands you a cup of warm tea, but as you grab it, he doesn’t let go. Your undamaged fingers brush his for a long moment and he chuckles.

“Promise not to take after your friend James? I quite like this tea set.”

Your eyebrows knit together as he smiles at his own joke and finally surrenders the cup to you. That’s the last words you two exchange, and when Bucky and Sam return ready for the next part of the mission, they find the two of you sitting in silence sharing a pot of tea.

___

When the three men returned, Sam and Bucky held an unconscious Zemo between them. You jumped off the couch, the book you had been reading discarded, and let them lay Zemo down.

“What happened?”

“John Walker,” the two men answered in the same disgusted tone.

You leaned over Zemo, finally seeing the blood and bruise on his right temple.

“This one disappeared for a few minutes, shot Karli-”

“Didn’t kill her,” Sam interrupted, sounding relieved.

Much like Sam, you sympathized with Karli’s motives if not her methods. And much like Sam, you were glad she hadn’t died.

“Then Walker knocked him out with the shield,” Bucky finished.

There was no jab at Sam this time for which you were grateful.

“Which is the only useful thing he did,” Sam added. “Zemo destroyed the rest of the serum, so right now he’s above Walker in my book.”

You looked down at Zemo, blood had dripped down his face and neck, though most of it was dried now. His eyelids twitched as he slept.

“Are you two okay?” You asked as you walked toward the bathroom.

“Fine. We ditched Walker, but we’ll need to get out of here as soon as we figure out what to do with Karli,” Sam answered, collapsing on the couch with a heavy sigh.

You dampened a washcloth in the bathroom and on your way back to the living room, grabbed the first aid kit Zemo had used on you earlier.

“What are you doing? He’ll be fine,” Bucky muttered.

He was sitting next to Sam now.

“Returning a favor,” you answered as you knelt at Zemo’s side.

You dabbed at the drying blood with the cloth, wiping it off his cheek, out of his hair. Somehow the coat came out unscathed. Sam and Bucky were talking about something behind you, but you were entirely focused on the unconscious man.

Zemo had a handsome, aristocratic face, and he walked like royalty, like he was untouchable. This was evidence he wasn’t.

You moved to the actual wound next. The cloth was soft, unreasonably so. A large hand wrapped around your wrist, squeezing tightly. You inhale sharply and shift your gaze to Zemo’s hand then his eyes. When your eyes met his, he seemed to relax, releasing you and letting his hand fall at his side.

“Apologies,” he grunted, mouth twitching with pain.

“It’s alright,” you answer calmly, very aware that the other men had stopped talking and were fixated on a potential threat. “Turn your head please.”

You put a hand on his cheek and turned him to face you to get a better look at the wound that was still seeping slowly.

“The new Captain America might force me to reconsider my stance on superheroes. I would enjoy seeing Sam and James have a go at him,” Zemo said as you prod the wound.

You wiped the cut with antiseptic, and Zemo hissed a bit at that but said nothing. Then, just like he had done to you, you placed three butterfly bandages on the cut. It wasn’t deep, just long and jagged.

“You’re my new favorite,” he joked with a little grin.

You laughed and walked to the kitchen for some ice. There were no packs, so you grabbed a bag of frozen peas, wrapped them in a towel and set it gently on Zemo’s temple.

“I can’t have you dying when I need this changed tonight,” you said, holding up a finger.

When you turned around, Sam and Bucky had both stretched out on the couch. They both wore annoyed expressions that Zemo got a whole couch and they got one to share. Bucky bumped Sam’s foot with his own, much to your amusement and Sam’s annoyance. He kicked his partner back, and you decided not to interrupt their little couples spat. Instead, you move to sit on the ground.

Zemo grabbed your wrist again, this time gently. He tucked his legs up, folding them into a V, and motioned you to share his couch. And you did, sitting in the same spot you had earlier, this time near his feet still clad in shiny black leather shoes.

“Hey, you two,” Sam called. “What’s this cozy little couch situation going on here?”

“You two could have a cozy little couch situation too if you’d just talk to each other,” Zemo shot back.

He didn’t even look at Sam, just held the frozen vegetables to his face, eyes closed.

“Y/N?” Zemo asked after a moment. “Can you get me an Advil? Or better yet, some sort of alcoholic beverage?”

“I’m not your servant, Zemo,” you sighed but stood and poured him a glass of some expensive alcohol from a bottle with Sokovian writing.

He sipped it, setting it on his chest between sips as he lounged on the couch with you. Bucky was watching you out the corner of his eye, and you were watching Zemo. Every few sips he would grimace, his lips pressing together and chest catching. Then he’d relax, exhale softly and shift the peas back into place. Eventually you picked up your book and began to read again.

Sam left the room to take a phone call a few hours later and came back shaking.

“Karli threatened Sarah, my nephews. I have to meet with her. Alone.”

“I’m coming with you,” Bucky jumped in, already on his feet. “Walker will be there, and you can’t handle the Super Soldiers and Captain Propaganda on your own.”

Zemo was either asleep or doing a good job pretending beside you. The pea bag had been returned to the freezer. He’d discarded his coat and was now wearing only his black pants and a deep purple shirt with shoulder holsters.

“You got him?” Sam pointed to the sleeping man.

“That’s what I’m here for,” you answered, setting the book aside and watching them prepare to leave.

Both men donned their costumes, Sam strapping his wings on, Bucky ripping the sleeve off of yet another jacket so his metal arm could move freely.

“Call me- us if you need backup,” you shouted after them, knowing full well they would do no such thing.

“If we aren’t back in two hours, take his ass back to jail,” Bucky called back.

Baron Zemo woke up the minute the door slammed shut, which made you doubt he’d been sleeping at all.

“And now it is only us,” he said in that thick Sokovian accent. “I will cook us something for dinner.”

He moved into the kitchen, boiling a pot of water while you watched. You perched yourself on the counter near him as he searched through cabinets. When he noticed you, he paused and chuckled before returning to the cooking. You watched in silence, keeping a close eye on him when he picked up a knife and began chopping tomatoes from a can.

He handed you a bowl of thin noodles with a thick red sauce. It smelled delicious.

“A traditional and simple Sokovian dish, a comfort food you might say,” he explained and joined you on the counter. “I made enough for Sam and James. Call me an optimist.”

Zemo didn’t talk much, you realized, as you enjoyed the food in silence. It was delicious, a bit like pasta. Suddenly, the back door clicked open. You glance around nervously, realizing just how wrong this felt.

“They shouldn’t be back yet,” you say quietly. “And they wouldn’t come in the back.”

“My old associates must have found me,” Zemo jumps off the table, and you notice the same nervousness as when Bucky threw the cup. He cannot know about James or Sam.”

You can hear a single person strolling toward the kitchen in heavy boots.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Zemo whispered, and before you could even process the words, he was standing between your legs and pressing his lips to yours.

His movements are slow and careful, trying not to be invasive as he moves his hands to your back, sliding one up to the back of your head. You wrap an arm around his waist and slide the other hand up the front of his purple shirt, splaying your fingers across his chest. His lips are soft and warm as they move against yours. His hand keeps you from pulling away, not that you’d want to.

“I heard you were back in Riga,” a new voice chuckled. “I had to see for myself.”

Zemo pulls back, feigning surprise, but kept an arm protectively around you.

“And as you have undoubtedly noticed, I am quite busy,” he replied. “Perhaps you could come back tomorrow? I’d prefer not to discuss our business in front of…”

Zemo nods to you. You were staring at the man who you recognized from work files. He was a former Shield agent. When Shield fell, he used the chaos for his own advantage, working for neither Shield nor Hydra and killing anyone who stood in his way. You suspected, but couldn’t be sure, that some of your best friends had been killed by him. Fortunately, you had enough self-control not to shoot him. His mere presence made you tense and uncomfortable.

“Of course, Baron,” he grinned and look at you in a way that made you shift closer to Zemo. “I’ll see you tomorrow, noon. The usual place.”

He gave the two of you one last look and left with a wink to Zemo. Even when the other man had gone, Zemo’s hands were still holding you against him.

“We will have to be gone before noon tomorrow,” he said looking down at you.

For some reason, you were both still wrapped around each other.

“You know who he is?” Zemo said, a statement masquerading as a question. “I am sorry.”

Your face was only inches from him, and you could smell his cologne. Zemo used the hand on your head to pull you against his shoulder. You set your head there, face turned into his neck, and inhaled deeply. And there he sat and you stood, hugging tightly for no real reason except that no one else was there.

Zemo pressed a soft kiss to your head, and rather than protest you let his lips linger. Finally, his head fell on your shoulder. After a moment, he slid you off the counter, took your hand, and led you back to the couch. Without asking, the two of you settled together on the couch, so close your sides pressed against each other. He pulled a gun out of his shoulder holster, and you froze until he set it down on the table, smirking a little.

“I don’t make a habit of shooting people I’ve just kissed,” he chuckled and raised an arm for you to lean against him.

You raised an eyebrow at him, surprised at the forwardness. You shouldn’t be, after all, he had just kissed you and held you on the counter of his kitchen. Helmut Zemo made no sense to you, but in the end, you curled against him. He shifted to lay on his back, head propped on the pillows he was laying on earlier while you tucked yourself beside him, head on his chest.

Zemo wrapped an arm around you. You put a hand on his chest, fingering the purple shirt. He was warm and soft, and you had to remind yourself that you could not fall asleep while you are supposed to be watching him.

“Why are we doing this?” You whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why are you?” Zemo turns his head toward you.

“I haven’t had someone to do this with in a long time,” you answer slowly, cautiously, knowing full well this was a man who could turn on you on an instant or hold onto information until the moment it was advantageous to him.

“Neither have I,” He replied. “German prisons don’t allow much physical contact. Besides, I hope that with enough time perhaps I may kiss you again.”

You tilted your head up to see a grin tugging at the side of his lips, lips that had been on yours a few minutes ago.

“Maybe with enough time,” you answer and brush a lose strand of hair out of his eyes, letting your hand trail over the bruise on his face.

He caged your hand in his, bringing your joined hands back to his chest and holding them there. You felt the rise and fall of his breaths and it soothed you. When they grew deep and steady and the tension seemed to fall from his body, you realized he was truly asleep, not faking like earlier. Soon and against your better judgment, you were dozing off in his arms tossing a leg over his so your limbs tangled together.

Your last thought before you fell asleep was how warm and comfortable you felt with Helmut Zemo, and how completely ludicrous such a thought was.

It wasn’t long before the door opening woke you, still secure in Zemo’s arms. You tried to move, sit up so Sam and Bucky wouldn’t see this little arrangement. You failed. Bucky came in first, stopping in his tracks as he saw the scene on the couch.

“What are you doing? Keep walk- what?” Sam ran right into Bucky’s back then froze.

Their eyes were wide as they stared. Zemo shifted awake beneath you, and you could imagine the smirk on his face. Bucky’s metal fist clenched, and Sam, ever the peacemaker grabbed his arm and opted for a more amicable approach.

“One of you better start talking.”

#tfatws spoilers #tfatws #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #zemo fic #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #spoilers #soft zemo #self insert fic #zemo x you #baron zemo x you #helmut zemo x you #zemo x reader fic #daniel brühl

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libraford · 4 years

Text

The short version: We had a serial thief at the flower shop. She’s retired recently and I think that due to Covid she really means it this time.

The long version? hoooo boy, here we go.

This story, and others, are viewable on Tablo

There are rules and there are rules.

In dealing with shoplifting in retail, there are rules on how one engages with a thief. The handbook, if there were one, would consist of a single word.

Don't.

Don't pursue, don't interrogate, don't accuse. Let them take the merchandise, let them get away. Let them return the Cricut machine for an equivalent amount on a gift card to be exchanged once again for drugs.

Let them.

There is no handbook on how to handle Flower Thieves. Prior to working in a flower shop, I never thought that this was a problem.

Life is surprising.

I'm sure some of you have figured that out by now.

The Flower Thief is notorious, and she has a system. There are days when you simply know that she's going to be in.

"Break the heads off the flowers before you throw them away," Grandpa will say. "She's going to be here tonight, I think."

And sure enough, she would be. At 6:45, a quarter til we close- the Thief would announce her arrival. Loudly.

"Heeeeey, baaaaaaby!"

The very first time I encountered the Flower Thief, she came in through the back door.

"Oh Hiiiii, Darlin'- ain't seen your face around here: you must be NEW! I'm Wren, you know- like the bird? Well, Kyle and I have an agreement that I come and work for y'all sometimes. You should take out this trash, it stinks to high heaven. Anyways, nice talkin' to ya, see ya later."

I may only be a little bit psychic, but I've spent enough time around liars to know insincerity when I see it. Kyle, at the time, was the manager of our store and I have it on record that he's tried to throw her out of the building once or twice.

While I was taking out the trash, her pile of purchase became so tall it towered over her. I watched Clark massively undercharge her for the sake of getting her to go away.

She has a pattern.

She comes in during the design classes because she knows that when there's twenty people in the store, there's not enough people to watch her and make sure she's not stealing. "There's a class today," she asks as if it's not literally every Tuesday. "Don't worry I know you all wanna get out of here on time."

The Flower Thief announces her presence in a grand way and then makes her way to the back to grab a trash bag or an empty box and then proceeds to bury any spare parts she finds in the cooler in the trash bag, hiding them under the things that she's actually buying.

After that, she checks the garbage cans for things we might have thrown away that will last another three days and stuffs them underneath her other ill-gotten goods.

Just when you think she's finished, she'll go through her pile of flowers and say: "You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus." And she'll go back into the cooler with it, stuff it in her purse, and walk back to the register.

And when she's all done being sneaky, she asks one of us to come ring her out.

This is the part that no one wants to do. Because ringing out the Flower Thief means haggling with the Flower Thief.

"Oh baaby, you know I don't pay those prices."

"Oh baaaby, I only pay $19 for roses."

"Oh baaaaaaaaaby, those carnations were on special."

She'll talk you down to under $100 with a sob story:

"Oh baaaaby, you know I'm donating this spray to the family. It's for that woman you know- you know the one. She got herself murdered a couple nights ago? Two children and she was pregnant too! Pregnant! Can you believe it? Who murders someone with child? What's the world coming to? So I need a good discount to make sure we treat this family right because they got a looooong road ahead of them."

"Oh baaaaaaby, you know this one's for that car crash over on Cleveland Avenue? I hear he was taking care of his dying father himself, so it's such a shame for him to go first like that."

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaby, this is for that little boy that shot himself, isn't that sad?"

Thank you, Sister Mary Loquacious.

And you nod because you don't want to come off as an uncaring sociopath. And while you're nodding and adjusting the price for her sad, sad consequence and mulling over how good she is for donating to these people in their time of need, she steals some greens from the trash can and sticks them in her bag.

She hands you crisp $100 bills. You check them and she makes jokes about how she printed them this morning. They're legit. Counterfeiting isn't why she went to prison.

What she went to prison for was drug trafficking.

"Do you need some help," you ask, trying to be a good citizen.

"Oh no, I got it," she insists. "I'll make it in two trips. I'm stronger than I look!"

And don't you dare get caught looking to see what she put in the bag or she will give you one hell of a lecture.

By the time all of this has passed, the class will be over and there will two minutes left in the work day. She's spent thirty-seven minutes in the store. Your register is unbalanced because now you don't have enough small bills to balance it and only have one $100 bill to get you through tomorrow.

And that's why there are rules.

On occasion, a new person will break the rules not knowing that there's rules. One such occasion was when Clair decided to be helpful.

"You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus," Wren said.

"Oh! I'll put it back for you," Clair suggested. And before Wren could protest, it was out of Wren's hands and nowhere near her purse.

It was mentioned to Sage, who only worked for us one summer, that Wren had failed to pay for something and she immediately chased her out into the street.

Wren drives very fast.

If you cross her too many times, she'll make sure you never forget it. One day, she stomped her way in through the front door, angry.

"You ain't treated me better than a damn THIEF," screamed the Flower Thief.

Grandpa, who was helping Blue make a wedding bouquet at the time, departed from the desk. "Beg pardon?"

"A thief! You been treating me like a thief ever since they made you manager and I'm sick of it! I see you bringing in your henchmen, following me in the cooler, chasing me down the street. Treat me with some damn respect."

Words were exchanged. They were not kind. We thought we'd seen the end of her.

But she was back one week later, doing the same damn thing.

So now there are rules.

If you make something and there's an excess of flowers left over from the pack, you have to make something out of the leftovers or she'll pick through them and stuff them in her bag.

If you cannot make something out of them, you must throw them out.

If you throw them out, you must break the heads off first.

The trash cans must be emptied every night before 5:00.

We do not keep trash bags in plain sight.

Break down all empty boxes, or she will use them in place of trash bags.

Do not leave any food or drink where she can find it.

Do not leave any half-used rolls of floral tape where she can find it.

Do not let her know anything about you- lest she use it against you.

If you speak of a Thief, you summon a Thief- speak quietly, and never her name or you invite trouble.

The basic rules one makes when dealing with pests. Or fairy-folk.

There are rules and there are rules and there are rules.

If you want to keep a pest away, you make these sorts of rules. But if you want to get rid of a pest indefinitely, you have to remove their food source. And Wren's food source was her discount.

You start exercising your right to say 'no' to a customer in small ways.

She saw a bunch of carnations in the trash and said:

"Oh baby, these are still good! I'll take them off your hands for you!"

"They've been sitting without water for hours."

"They're still good!"

"They were out in the sun."

"Oh baby, I've been working with flowers for 40 years and I know that these will still be fine for a couple of days!" She picks a bunch of them out of the trash and shoves it in my face. "See, it's still stiff- it's still good!"

"Okay," I said. And before I could stop myself: "Full price."

Her eyes just about popped out of her skull. If it were just a little bit colder, I would have been able to see steam coming out of her ears.

We stared at each other for about a minute, waiting for the other to flinch. She took the bunch away from my face and threw them back into the trash. While she was in the cooler, I took the liberty of snapping the heads off of them and burying them further into the garbage.

And so began a war between the flower shop and the Flower Thief.

She came in: every single night. And each night, she got me.

Again.

"Oh no, baby! These carns are supposed to be 39 cents a stem. I can bring up the email."

"Sure." She brings up the email. "I see that they are 39 cents but... this was for Saturday."

"Yea, and I bought those carns on Saturday and you charged me full price!"

"Saturday."

"Yeah."

"You didn't buy these on Saturday. You bought them Friday."

"Well I didn't know that they'd be on sale, so I need them for that price because I didn't know they'd be on sale."

"The sales are one-day only. I can't adjust a sale from Friday to reflect Saturday's sale... on Sunday."

She made a noise that reminds me somewhat of a cement mixer.

And again.

"I got a bad banner last time, can you print me a new one?" She shows me the banner in question. It's white. The 't' and the 'h' in 'mother' ran together.

"Sure."

"Okay, I need it to say 'Beloved Mother' and I want it in pink."

"Sure."

I print it. I ring her up $5.

"Oh baaaaaaby, no, that one should be free."

"Grandpa said- banners start at $5."

"Oh, but you sold me a bad one last time."

"We haven't sold you a banner in three weeks. How long have y'all had that body sitting in your cooler?"

She grumbled, and paid.

And again.

"I swear you been workin' every night this week! You must be tired," she said, nerves plain in her voice. "When do you get a day off?"

"When the work is done."

"That ain't what I'm askin'. When's your next day off, baby?"

"I stop working when the work is done, Wren."

She narrows her eyes, which is a fun change from them bugging out of her skull like a fruit fly. "You don't ever get any days off?"

"When the work stops, I rest."

And again.

"I'll be in and out, I know y'all want to get out of here on time," she said- announcing her presence to the entire class. She piled her stuff across the register counter and Grandpa began ringing her up.

"Oh baby..."

"No. We're doing away with the discounts."

There are twenty people in the workshop for the class and Grandpa doesn't want to make a scene. She pulls her into the back, and I choose to make my instructions louder to mask the sound of them yelling.

"So you're going to take your hypericum berries and you're going to cut the stem to about ten inches-"

"How can you do this to me?"

"And you're going to slowly fill the vase with these berries to kind of set the shape of the arrangement."

"After all these years and this is how you treat me?"

"Fun fact- you might know hypericum berries as their more common name: St John's Wort! St. John's Wort has been used as a medication for depression prior to modern medicine." You see- I, too, have taken notes from the Chattering Order.

"You can't do this to me," Wren said, stamping her feet like a toddler.

"But I wouldn't recommend eating them. However, they do smell somewhat like baked brown sugar."

Stamp, stamp, stamp.

Wren threw herself into the cooler and began putting a bulk of her flowers back.

"This is robbery," I heard her say to Grandpa at the register.

"Is it now?"

And again.

She came in and immediately reached for a half-empty box of oasis bricks (the green sponge material that we use to hold flowers.) She said few words to me, few at all. She talked to Carrie about how she was going out to the country for awhile, to take care of her nephew's property. She needed to stock up. And oh- don't worry about it, she knows what she's doing. She's part of The Family.

She is in no manner of speaking, a member of The Family that owns this shop. Not even a third cousin.

I saw her beeline for a rose I'd set in the trash. I picked it up, opened my mouth, and bit the head off of it. She stood in the middle of the workshop, absolutely stunned.

Rose petals have the vague texture of arugula, by the way. Slightly sweeter, though. Tough to swallow in one go.

She ran back into the cooler and didn't talk to me.

I began taking down numbers.

27 bricks of oasis. One pack of roses. Ten calla lilies. 1/2 pack of assorted greens.

I punched the numbers in to the register. As if sensing something was amiss, she emerged from the cooler.

"$54? What do I have that's $54?"

"The oasis. They're $2 each."

"Oh no baaaaaby, they're $1."

"I can text Grandpa and ask her."

"... that won't be necessary. Why are you charging me $22.50 for roses? You know my prices by now!"

"22.50 is the price for a pack of roses."

"22.50 is everybody prices."

"Welcome to 'everybody.'"

"I ain't paid a price increase in 7 years!"

"The price of milk went up, Wren. So does everything else."

She was seeing red, I knew it. There's a vein in her forehead that pops out when she's angry and it's the same shape as the river that runs through my home town. She sized me up, as if wondering if she could take me.

I'm 256 pounds of 4H beef, and I have a knife. Try me.

"I'm gonna call Kyle on this."

"Do it." A lifetime of retail has made me immune to 'I'd like to speak to the manager.'

She grumbled and put things back. Carrie offered to watch her, I held up my hand.

"Can you do something for me on these carns? They're the last pack in there and they're lookin' kinda ratty."

"9.50."

"9.50's the regular price."

"Regular price is $14."

"No it ain't."

"Is today. You're taking our last pack and we need those for funerals."

She put them back.

She gave me a credit card. It seemed fake, but it ran. Every time I see here, she's got a different card. Did she print this one this morning, too? At least she stopped trying to sell me on Bitcoin. As you can see, it made her incredibly wealthy.

She gathered her things and left. "Guess I'm getting the rest of my flowers from KROGER!"

There are things you want to say. Like... I hope they enjoy your company just as much as we do. Or: Haven't graced them with your presence in awhile, huh? But at the time, it was better just to watch her leave with her minuscule bunch of flowers. I get a choice in where I loan my voice.

Not here.

Is it over? Nah. She'll be back for another round. But one day she'll finally retire in the way that she's always threatened to. And then? Then it can be as over as it ever will be.

It is shocking to come from a history of retail, where you're not allowed to even hint at the idea of a customer being wrong, where you have to override every single price change to get the scores up, where you have to just let them steal your things and pull the wool over your eyes...

... to flat-out telling someone 'no.'

"No."

It's such a great word.

There are rules and there are rules.

And there are thieves that the rules are made for.

And there are words like 'no.'

And all those things are magic in very human ways.

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tom-holland-parker · 4 years

Text

Secrets

Summary: Tom is terrified about you finding out his job but when he brings you to his house he has no choice but to tell you

Pairing: Mob!tom x reader

Warning: SMALL mention of murder but nothing bad

Word count: 2374

Masterlist

"This is your house" you said in shock as Tom helped you out of the car. It was the largest house you'd ever seen and it was crazy to think that it belonged to the man you're dating. He chuckled grabbing your hand as he guided you through the front door, "it one of my houses"

You rolled your eyes looking around the fancy living room. You kept your hands to yourself, afraid that you would break something that cost more than you could imagine. "You're telling me that we've been spending weekends in my tiny studio apartment when you have a living room that size of my building"

Tom smiled watching you explore every part of the large room. "I like your small apartment. It's very cute" You stared at him with suspicious eyes, "what exactly did you say you do for a living?"

He took a deep breath trying to remain calm as he remembered the lie he told you, "I'm CEO of a waste management company". It wasn't a complete lie, if you changed waste to people and management to murder. The truth is that Tom was too afraid to tell you that he ran one of the largest mobs in London. He was afraid you'd react badly and never want to see him again. Even though he’d only been dating you for 7 months he was completely whipped and would do anything for you. Lying was his way of protecting you and buying time so he could find the right way to tell you what he does for a living.

You tilted your head in confusion but didn't push for detail. Instead you nodded and grabbed his hand, "so am I going to get the grand tour or are we spending the whole day in your living room". He smiled, guiding you into the other rooms.

///

“And this is the library” Tom said as he opened the door to the large room covered floor to ceiling in bookshelves. You looked around, fascinated by all the books in the room. “Don’t get too excited, they're all history and law books” Tom said, chuckling as you sighed in disappointment.

“You have a library in your house and you decide to fill it with boring books” You crossed your arms, “I’m convinced you’re a psychopath”. He chuckled as he stood in front of you, grabbing your chin to gently push your head up. He placed a kiss on your forehead before sighing, “I’ll clear off an entire bookshelf so you can put whatever books you want”

“Well there's the classics, ” You began to list off all the books you could think of, “oh and there obviously-”

“Boss we got a problem” You were interrupted by a tall muscular man. Tom’s lips went thin and his jaw tightened, it didn’t take a genius to show he was annoyed. You stared in confusion but remained quiet. “Deal with it” Tom said, you flinched at the violence in his voice, “I don’t want to be bothered unless it’s an emergency”

The man nodded his head leaving the room silently. “Your workers just hang around your house?” You questioned as Tom’s face softened again. He chuckled nervously, “I prefer to have them close to me in case anything goes wrong”

“Interesting tactic” You joked, “It must be fun to be your employee”. He shrugged, “They still find ways to annoy me”

“But it’s waste management, how hard is it to keep track of garbage?” You asked. He laughed in amusement, as if you were telling a joke, “You’d be surprised”

“Seriously though all you have to do is pick up that trash and-” Tom interrupted holding his finger to your lips. “Enough about my job, it’s for me to worry about” He bopped your nose gently before smiling, “How’d you like to see the green house?”

You gasped, “Why wasn’t that the first thing you showed me? Let’s go”. Tom sighed in relief, happy that you stopped asking questions, “This way Love”

He grabbed your hand guiding you out the library to the stairs, “No one ever really uses it because no one here gardens” He explained as you got closer to the backyard, “But I saw all those plants in your apartment and figured you could find some use for it”

It was a complete lie actually. Tom had seen the way you covered your apartment with various plants, he loved the way you took care of them as if they were real children. When he returned home that night he bought a greenhouse for his backyard, knowing that it would be a place that can make you happy whenever you came to his house.

“This is so cool” Your eyes lit up as you walked in, hands grazing along the tables and large piles of dirt bags. You were mentally mapping out where you were going to put different plants when you heard a knock on the glass door. Another man, still tall but this time less muscular, entered whispering to Tom. You watched as Tom's eyes filled with a mixture of anger and annoyance. The man quickly left as Tom turned to you, "Darling I'm sorry I have business to handle real quick, how about you go to the living room and pick a movie for us to watch and I'll get to you as soon as possible"

Your eyes widened nervously, "you're leaving me in the house alone?"

He chuckled grabbing your hands to lead you out the greenhouse. "No I'll be in my office in the west wing" he pointed towards the tall man from before who stood waiting outside the door, "if you need me for any reason just tell Charlie and he'll get me right away"

You nodded your head as Tom let go of your hand, "Charlie will take you back to the living room, I'll be done as soon as possible". Tom quickly kissed your forehead before walking back into the house. You turned to Charlie, giving him an awkward smile as he began walking you to the living room.

After an hour of sitting on the couch and staring at the television you started to get bored. You couldn't stop the little voice inside your head telling you to start exploring the house. You sighed, turning off the TV. Charlie, who had remained silent the entire time, stared at you in confusion trying to figure out exactly what you were going to do. "Where's Tom's office?" You asked, standing up from the couch. Charlie stood silent for a moment before taking a deep breath, "do you need him?"

You shook your head, "No but I'm bored and since you're not going to talk to me I might as well find something to do?"

"As much as I'd love to help you" he said sarcastically, "Tom gave me specific instructions to make sure you don't wander off"

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, throwing yourself back on the couch as you tried to think of a way past him. You knew trying to physically overpower him wouldn't work. Trying to seduce him was useless because you sucked at flirting, something Tom loved about you. You smiled, decided to do the only thing you knew best, catch them off guard.

"Can we at least play a game or something. I'm sure there's playing cards around here somewhere" you said looking around the room for the deck of cards. You remembered Tom telling you how he hosted poker night every Friday with his brothers. Charlie sighed grabbing the pack from the poker set on top of the large mantle.

You took them from his hand motioning for him to sit on the floor in front of the coffee table as you shuffled and divided the cards. "Have you ever played spit?" You asked setting the game up

He shrugged, "I've played a game or two"

"Great get ready to lose" you joked as you grabbed your cards and started the game. It only took 4 rounds for Charlie to start getting comfortable and if you weren't set on finding Tom you would've played this game with him all day. "Where's the bathroom?" You asked as he shuffled the cards for another around. He pointed towards the hallway not giving much thought about it, "its down the hall to your left. Gold doorknob"

You nodded getting up from the table and walking out the room. As quietly as you could you walked up the stairs. You didn't know exactly where Tom's office was located but you knew that the Library was in the West wing so it had to be close by.

You slowed your pace once you reached the library doors, listening for any sort of noise that would point out the office. It didn't take long for you to hear a muffled voice shouting. You took a deep breath following the voice to the door at the end of the hall. The shouts were louder but you could tell it wasn't Tom's voice.

You hesitantly placed your ear on the door listening for some sort of context. "This is the second time him and his gang have done this. I want him dead" the voice shouted. You imagine it belonged to a stressed middle aged man and laughed at the idea of the man's face turning red with anger.

"You can't just kill him. You still have deals with him that need to end first" You heard Tom's surprisingly calm voice. It shocked you how nonchalant he was about the topic of murder. The man began to shout again but you were distracted by the large hand that grasped your shoulder. You turned slowly not surprised to see Charlie standing in front of you, his face disappointed. "You must want me to get fired" he whispered

You smiled at him as your hand grabbed the doorknob. He moved to grasp your wrist but wasn't quick enough. The door was open and you both were stumbling in the large room. You watched as all eyes turned to you and Charlie, everyone clearly confused by your entrance. Well everyone but Tom, who had a mixture of worry and anger on his face.

It was that very moment that Tom knew he wouldn't be able to hide this from you. He watched as you looked around the room, embarrassment taking over your body, obviously unaware of what was being discussed.

"I'm sorry" you said, your voice was small and you could feel your face heating up in embarrassment. Tom sighed, looking like he was having a small moral debate with himself. He lifted his hand motioning for you to come over. You slowly walked past the others in the room who were still staring at you in confusion.

Tom pat his lap, signaling for you to sit. You did as you were told feeling more confident now that his arm was wrapped around your waist. "Listen Jimmy, it's not going to happen until you close all business ends with him. End of story now get out" Tom demanded.

The man, who was actually younger than you'd imagined, sighed in acceptance and he nodded his head and quickly left with two men trailing behind him. "I'll deal with you later Charlie get out" Tom said with a tired voice as he rubbed his eyes.

You stared at him awkwardly not sure if you wanted to bring up the conversation you overheard. "Wandering around a large house like this can be dangerous" Tom said as he stared at you.

You bit your lip nervously not sure how to respond, "I'm sorry" you whispered staring tm down at the chain around him neck, "don't be mad at Charlie its not his fault"

"I'm not mad" Tom's fingers fiddled with the hem of your dress, "just happy you're safe". You chuckled, "you say that like there was some sort of danger in the house"

His lips went thin as he let out a deep breath. He looked at you, one hand rubbing you back the other gripping your chin, pulling you closer to him as he gave you a kiss. "I have to tell you something"

"What's wrong?" He bit his lip nervously, "I've been lying about my job. I'm the leader of the biggest mafia in London"

Your body froze with shock, not sure how to respond to that. "Um" you hesitated, "like Scarface?" He couldn't hide the smile forming on his face, he found your obliviousness adorable, "yes just like Scarface"

You knew that the reasonable response would've been to run away and never speak to Tom again, but some part of you knew that Tom was still the man you loved no matter what he did. You just had to accept that you loved a dangerous and powerful man. You sighed, "well if we're telling secrets I'm a hard core criminal"

Tom stared at you in confusion, "what?" You chuckled, "yeah in high school I went through a hardcore shoplifting stage I can pretty much steal anything” You smiled as Tom’s laughter filled the room. “But seriously I don’t get why you lied, Mafia boss sounds kinda hot”

“Sounds hot until you're dead because someone doesn’t like you” He said as he absentmindedly drew traced shapes on your thigh with his fingers. You rolled your eyes, “Don’t try and scare me away because it’s not gonna work”

“I’m just saying I don’t want you to get into something you regret” He whispered. You sighed, “Tom will it calm you down if I told you I love you and I’m not going anywhere?” His eyes shot towards you, shock filling them.

“Are you serious?” He asked. You chuckled, “yes now say it back before I start overthinking”. He let out a deep breath, moving you so you straddle his legs, “I love you” he whispered as he kissed your neck, “I love you so much”

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” You joked as your hips grinded against his. He paused reaching down to pull out the handgun from his waist, you laughed as he placed it on the table, “oh a gun”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #Mob!Tom #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x reader angst #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland fluff #mob!tom x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Got a little carried away thinking about what I’d do for Spencer after Maeve died.

Cw: depressed Spencer, food mentions, reader is worried he might commit suicide, he’s fine tho

He’s not answering the door. She taps her foot anxiously and knocks again, “Spencer open the fucking door.” Still nothing. “You’ve got 5 seconds before I kick the fucking door down and you lose your deposit. It’s not a fucking joke anymore.”

Nothing. She pushes all the baskets out of the way, shakes the door to see how sturdy it is and then backs up, she lifts her leg and puts all her force into the kick. When she collides with the wood, she uses all of her body weight to push it forward, snapping the hinge and watching the wood fly in different directions.

She steps inside, the place is an absolute mess, he opened books and ripped pages. A chess set has been thrown across the room. A mirror fell and cracks, his curtains are ripped. All his drawers are open. “Spencer? Where are you?”

She walks into his bedroom to find it neat and tidy, his bed hardly slept in and piles of clothes thrown about. And sees that the bathroom door is closed and her heart sinks, “Spencer I’m coming in.”

She gives him a chance to cover up if he’s in there before twisting the door handle and opening the door, it opens fine and there’s nothing in its way. Inside she can't see him right away, not until she pulls the shower curtain back. He’s curled up in the fetal position with headphones on, listening to an audiobook that sounds like Leonard Nimoy's voice.

She smiles, getting down on her knees and lightly rubbing her hand over his shoulder. It startles him awake and his eyes fly open. He gasps and jumps back, “what?”

“You weren’t answering.”

“And?”

She just stares at him in silence. “I broke your door, I’ll pay to have it replaced, but I couldn’t let you keep ignoring me.”

“I’m fine.”

She nods. “Can I clean your house? You can go back to sleeping in here, it looks cozy?”

“It feels like a hug.”

“Do you want a real one?”

He nods and lunges forward, wrapping himself around her with the porcelain tub edge cutting into her stomach, he’s holding her so tight. “You’re okay.”

“Thank you.”

She doesn’t say anything because she knows that was hard enough for him to say, he doesn’t need to do anything more today. “I’m not leaving, I hope you know that.”

“You don’t have to stay,” he tries to push her help away.

“I didn’t ask, I was telling you. I’m staying here. You’ll have to call the cops to get me out of here, we’re making dinner, we can watch Star Trek and if you want. I can tickle your back again like I did that night in Omaha? When you told me how your mom used to do that to help you fall asleep as a kid?”

He nods, “can I nap first?”

She hugs him once more and kisses the top of his head, “do you want to move to your bed?”

“Please?”

She helps him up and brings him over there, tucking him in and turning to leave when he grabs her hand. “Don’t tell anyone else. I don’t want any other help, it’ll overwhelm me.”

“Of course buddy,” she smiles down at him.

She leaves his room and heads right to the maintenance office of his building. She pays for his door and offers to replace it herself for the inconvenience. It’s more difficult than she expected but his door closes and it’s fine. And she gets a second key, pretending to be his girlfriend and being given the spare. Next time she won’t have to break the door.

So she locks it and heads to the store, placing a note on his pillow so he doesn’t feel abandoned again, she’ll be home again soon.

She buys the essentials for Spencer’s favourite soup, making it for him from scratch while also cleaning his apartment to the best of her ability. She buys garbage bags and cleaner at the store, opening the windows and dusting everything. He’s still got his headphones on so she doesn’t feel too bad about turning on the vacuum, but he doesn’t wake up until he smells the soup.

It’s just a basic chicken noodle, but she sautéed the carrots, onion and celery first, drawing out the flavours before mixing in the chicken pieces. She cooks them up with all the seasonings she could find, he was surprisingly well-stocked in the spices department. Adding the water, she lets it simmer and out he stumbles.

“It smells delicious,” he rubs his eyes and walks into the room, “Woah, I can see the floor again.”

“I wrote down a list of every book that was destroyed, in case you want to get new copies? I never threw them out, they’re just in a bag, I didn’t know if they were triggering or just in reach.”

“Just in reach,” he smiles. “Thank you, this is really helpful.”

She smiles and joins him on the couch, watching reruns of Star Trek on the science channel and listening to all his facts. She had already watched every episode with him in hotels across the US, but back then she didn’t get the commentary, he wanted her to enjoy it. Now he tells her all the little facts, he pauses and backs things up to show her continuity errors and he repeats all his favourite quotes and he smiles.

By the time they get to eating dinner, Spencer’s starving and actually excited for the meal. He eats a little too fast, she has to remind him to take his time, his stomach has been empty for too long and it’ll make him feel worse. He listens, enjoying it now that he slows down, appreciating the fact she took the time to care for him.

When she gets into bed beside him she can tell that he’s tense, “you can tell me everything on your mind or nothing at all. I’m here for what you need, I don’t expect anything from you.”

“Just cuddles? No talking? I’m not ready.”

“Sounds good,” she opens her arms and lets him settle into her embrace.

She rubs her hand over his back, bumping along the fabric of his T-shirt and attempting to soothe him before he sits up and takes it off, throwing it to the side and snuggling back in. It’s easier this way, she can feel the bumps on his skin as her fingers trace down his back and her nails lightly drag their way back up. Over and over she does it in a figure-eight motion, the infinity symbol, hoping He's aware enough to know she means she’s going to be there for him forever.

She can tell he’s asleep when his breathing changes, his body gets heavier and his hand drops from her side to the mattress.

“Dream of me?” She whispers against his hair, hoping his subconscious will listen. “I promise I’ll take care of you in there too.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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micromushroom · 3 years

Text

☼ BNHA Dorm Headcanons☼

Synopsis: What I think the dorms of characters would look like

Genre: Just general headcanons

W.K.: ~1.25k in all

C.W.: none

Characters ft: Bakugou, Tsuyu, & Shinsou

(~450 words)

This could go in so many different directions

My first thought is that if PlanetFitness™ was condensed it would be this man’s room

But honestly I see him more as a person to workout outside and do more active things whilst being productive

It’s canon that he likes hiking, so I feel like a lot of the equipment in his room would be based off of that

If anything, he probably has a few weights (like dumbbells) that are lying around

Has most definitely kicked one on accident at night walking around his room

I feel like it’s relatively plain but over time becomes more clustered

The Bakusquad will start randomly leaving or putting things in Bakugou’s room

It can be anything from Denki leaving little dollar store trinkets on Bakugou’s desk; to Kiri making random things out of garbage in class and putting it on Bakugou’s shelf

He doesn’t strike me as someone to have a lot of pictures or memorabilia, but there’s little pictures on the wall by his bed with sticky tack photos of his friends throughout the years

He’s an All Might fanboy at heart, but I doubt he has as much physical display of this as Midoriya

I headcanon that there’s posters and like some rare collectibles of action figures and merch

Inko made him a throw blanket as a kid for his birthday of All Might and he still has it at the end of his bed

Despite it being relatively clustered with small things in some places (again, courtesy of the Bakusquad), it’s still pretty clean and spacious

His curtains are usually closed, so the only possibility for plants that he could sustain are either fake or don’t survive for long

Since his parents are both fashion designers, his closet is full of clothing that he’ll probably never wear from name brands all over

His desk serves as a multiple purpose space: homework, charging station, and bookshelf

Bakugou’s bed is always made and—as much as I hate to say it—he probably only sleeps with two pillows—three on occasion

He has a speaker that he uses whenever he’s not doing homework, but it’s probably super loud (headcanoning that he’s partly deaf from his quirk)

His closet alone could be an entirely different post

Overall, Bakugou’s room is kind of dark and a tad bit more grunge themed

Kirishima leaves Bakugou lots of little notes saying things like are either:

“Hey Bakubro, can you help with math please? :D” to

“Remember to hydrate and take a break” with a little thumbs up doodle

Lots of self notes too reminding him of what he has to do and his schedule for the day

(~340 words)

Tsu canonically has all of the attributes—strengths and weaknesses—that a frog does

For this reason, I think that she has humidifiers and just temperature regulations throughout her room

Lots of plants and art prints, mainly from friends

Little lily pad shaped fairy lights strung across her room

I picture her room as having a lot of plants like ivy and vines, but also a lot of really exotic plants

Lots of pillows and blankets

Like at least five pillows and her bed is most definitely up against the wall

The blankets range from those really thin 50x50” ones to comforters to really fluffy and warm blankets

Hear me out—stuffed animals

I think that her friends go out with her to like, the mall, and end up coming back with a lot of stuffed animals

Throw pillows and rugs are main staples of Tsu’s room

Super comforting place and relaxing, but it can become kind of humid

Frequent naps at Tsu’s dorm bedroom have become so common that she has little bean bag seats that people sleep on

Color palette of greens and pinks

Think of a pastel version of kid core, with the mixed color fabrics

Her closet is also an entirely different post, but I’m picturing bucket hats and pastel overalls with different colors and patch sizes

You know those framed glass cases of bugs? Yes, those but a lot of them

Like they’re hanging up by pictures of her friends

Butterflies, iridescent winged beetles, etc.

Like the wood around them is an orangish color and honestly I might just draw this up later

I cannot stress this enough, but pictures of her friends both in and out of school as well as pictures of her family and herself growing up

Post cards from all over pinned up on her walls and cork boards

Generic, I know, but frog themed little details that are mainly jokes

Music isn’t as loud or used as Bakugou, but when she does play music, it’s most likely a shared playlist that everyone created

(~490 words)

Straight up, grunge. kid. bedroom.

Gotta put aside my biases for him for the rest of this

Either looks like a vacant room or the pure embodiment of a teenage boy’s room

I’m going with the latter for the rest of this

Clothes and trash are just all over the floor, save for a few spaces

His bed has been made once, maybe twice

But it is the most comfortable shit you would ever sleep in

I speak from experience of my own bed

Posters line the wall so much to the point where there’s very little actual wall space

These range from prints he likes, bands, movies, heroes he admires Aizawa, to joke posters like, “Live, Laugh, Love <3” and, “~Home is where the heart grows fonder~”

The LED lights desperately need a battery change because it’s more of a dim light, but that’s for another time to change

Jackets and hoodies over his chairs

Has a little gaming station beside his desk

I choose to believe his gaming chair and setup itself is the biggest thing that he has splurged on

The side of his monitor and the top of his desk are covered in stickers he’s collected over the years

Tapestry over his bed

Vintage cassette and record albums

As cluttered as everything is, it’s still somewhat spacious because the clutter is grouped together to provide a walkway

Much like myself, his closet is somewhat bare because all of his clothing he wears is from piles of clean and dirty clothing on the floor

Signature purple and black bedding and overall theme

There’s always music, like no matter what, but the difference between Shinsou and Bakugou is that Shinsou’s music is usually quiet

Wide variety of music, but at night it’s his an entirely different playlist of Lofi

He may not sleep at night 9/10, but at least it isn’t as chaotic and exhausting

Collection of bottle caps and tabs by his bed

Water bottles are everywhere, but at least the majority of them are refilled

At this point I’m just naming off how my room is rn

Half of his chargers are broken or living on 1%

Hair ties that are clinging onto life have their own little dish on his desk

Usually the curtains and blinds are closed

On the back of his door there’s a coat rack that’s used exclusively for his bag and also the capture weapon

Weights and overall workout equipment are frequently used but also so easily lost

The Grind Never Stops

I think the only pictures he would have would be of like sneaked pictures of him and Aizawa training

Aizawa’s in the back doing whatever pose and Shinsou’s either hold up a blurry peace sign to the camera or painfully imitating it

They’re a little frayed at the edges most of the time, but it just makes them more sentimental and fit in with the aesthetic

11/10, would recommend vibing in his room

#bnha #bnha headcanons #boku no hero academia #mha headcanons #micro writes #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia tsuyu #bnha tsuyu #tsuyu asai #tsuyu x reader #mha shinsou #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #shinso hitoshi #shinsou x reader

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sepublic · 3 years

Text

Self-Perception with King

Anyhow, King’s story this episode just resonates with me and hits hard, and I think that adds to how I find its culmination and resolution to be deeply reassuring. Because sometimes, I DO think I’m exaggerating, sometimes I’m worried with Impostor Syndrome, that I’m secretly fake, that I’m not as clever as I think I am, or whatever- That maybe it’s not that deep.

Just… The way he’s clearly rethinking, questioning himself and everything, doubting his previous defiance towards others’ perception of him, no doubt taken from Eda herself! King is wondering if he’s wrong about himself after all, and everyone else is right? What if that’s really all there is to him, just the shallow, flat caricature they reduce him to and dismiss him as- And King is a delusional fool for thinking there was more to him than that, for believing in his depth?

Not just in terms of backstory, but in ability- Ability to take over a playground, or his skills as an author. Is King really just some big joke who’s trying too hard after all… And the way King is made out to be so much less than he really is, it’s like he’s being told it’s not that deep, that HE’s not that deep!

And I appreciate how Luz and the narrative validates King’s concerns, and telling him that it’s okay to keep trying, that he should believe in himself regardless- Because maybe there IS something there, or you can work to make it that way. Don’t let others mess with your perception and low-key gaslight you into questioning your own reality and resignation; You DO have agency and power and control in this world!

King’s skills, his worth and value as a person, they’re all real- And he doesn’t need some cool backstory or lore or powers as a crutch for his own character, for his own individuality and who he is as a person. King isn’t very obvious both in general, as well as in terms of his depth and nuance, but it’s worth the effort to get to know him, and Luz reminds him that he shouldn’t ever have to downplay himself in order to avoid unrealistic, exaggerated expectations and entitlement of automatic greatness.

He really does have an inferiority complex and think he’s secretly a failure; King feels like worthless garbage, and that he has to justify himself with greatness, because all of the passive-aggressive treatment, the little micro-aggressions across the years, they really piled up to tear down his self-esteem, and that’s only across eight years! People treating him like a toy or slave to buy when not once does King ever agree to nor present himself as such, they just assume and override his autonomy.

It means a lot to me that King can be told that there IS something to him, that he shouldn’t let others define him that way; THEY don’t know him, but he does! And yeah it’s terrifying when he has that crisis that maybe he doesn’t really know himself after all, that others know him better than he does… But in this case, I think King really does need to cut himself some slack because he IS a child, and I say this in a way that argues for goodness and protection and relief, and not to dismiss!

Plus, it’s the people who actually love and care for, and respect King, that know who he is- And THEY know that, Luz and Eda, because of what King does. They can remind himself that he does have a pretty good idea of who he is, or at least help him get there, because it is okay to ask for help. King’s friends know him, not these strangers, they don’t understand him, and King doesn’t need to waste time trying to make them understand if they’re really committed to not doing so.

All he needs is for himself to know who he is, himself and those he does trust, those whose opinions he actually values, who actually mean a lot to him! And I think that’s really beautiful, and such a wonderful lesson of self-affirmation and identity, of self-determination, deciding who you are, and trusting in yourself and others, in your own perception of yourself…

Not letting guilt nor doubt, nor exaggeration performed in compensation of all that, to cloud your perception- Just clear your mind and vision, and see yourself for who you are… And/or figure that out, BUILD that person personally if you’re not entirely sure! And yes, it’s okay to rely on your friends as mirrors for self-reflection- They’re there for you and they believe in you for a reason.

If they can see the worth in King, why can’t he do the same for himself? Their opinions mean a lot to him, he trusts their judgment- And if their judgment says King is a lot, he likely is! And King’s judgment… THAT is also worth a lot too, and I really look forward to seeing how he reorganizes his self-awareness, his perception of himself and reality, based on who he really is, and not either by his own doubt, nor in specific reaction to it through gilded, misguided arrogance.

King knows who he is… And the fact that he’s also becoming friends with GUS, who IS self-assured about who he is, he says as much in Hooty’s Moving Hassle that he knows what he’s all about; They’re both the younger kids of their group, small and feeling like they’re overlooked? Gus has Illusions, which deal all in perceptions, its symbol is a Mirror, representing self-reflection… Yet Gus has a clear understanding and view of himself, and I think it’s wonderful that he can help King with that, and vice-versa!

It’s just… A very self-affirming message of identity, and knowing who you are; Discovering that, making that, whichever! And that identity, no matter how unusual, is perfectly worthwhile and respectable. With all of King’s themes of identity, I have to wonder about him and masks honestly- And if his skull face, resembling a mask, IS in fact his actual face, if there’s any symbolism to that or if I’m overthinking, I dunno! I’m having a lot of fun and this whole episode’s message was so, SO incredibly reassuring and validating to me, and I hope it is to others who also self-doubt, and can see themselves in King.

He still hesitates at the end, he briefly pauses when Luz asks him if being her friend is enough for him- King IS someone who can potentially relapse, and you know what? Nobody’s perfect. We sometimes make mistakes, confidently say one thing and then suddenly doubt it later, progress isn’t linear. King is confused, but that’s okay, he’s still figuring himself out, people are ever-changing, and that doesn’t mean what’s there ISN’T real. People are allowed to make mistakes, what’s important is that King keeps trying and remembering who he is and wants to be, no matter the distraction.

#the owl house #ramblings #meta #character analysis #king clawthorne

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jeremy-ken-anderson · 2 years

Text

Credit for Trying

Do we give a series credit for justifying their use of a kind of garbage trope?

Sure, why not. They use it, but it fits better.

How Not to Summon a Demon Lord has the harem trope where there are a bunch of fawning women and a guy who doesn’t act on masculine impulses in spite of a) being interested in women and b) being surrounded by fawning women.

This trope can be infuriating; From a logical standpoint it just doesn’t hold up. The logic supporting it is all external - It’s that if he picks one girl the romantic subplot is functionally done, and if he picks all the girls then censors will get involved - and this kind of out-of-story logic comes off very similar to being able to see the boom mic in the corner of the screen during a drama, or the wires during a kung fu epic.

But HNtSaDL explains it. Thing 1: He’s role-playing as a villain, but very badly. So he’s domineering but not hurtful, aggressive but only dangerous to the girls’ enemies. In short, if they’re naive he comes off as a noble hero with a booming voice and if they’re savvy he comes off as a useful ally with a weird RP habit. It makes sense that each of these girls pursues him (also, multiple of them have their own agendas and are attempting to seduce him to use him, which is a level of harem-character initiative that is depressingly rare in the genre). Thing 2: Hidden beneath the role-play, he’s just plain horrible with people. He’s a shut-in who doesn’t know how to interact and essentially he’s so invested in his character that he’s terrified of anything that goes outside the Demon Lord behavior set - so because he never roleplayed anything erotic during his MMO play sessions, even though he does clearly have sexual appetites he feels confused and unsafe when things get into erotic territory.

Because the character is propping up his entire identity on a character he played in what was probably a PG (and only really PG because of violence) game, Diablo feels like he has to shut down sexual encounters or he’ll get into deeply unknown situations, and one of the core jokes of the series is that he’s a neurotic shut-in pretending to be a brash badass and it’s working but the pretending isn’t undoing any of his neuroses.

Is the series treating women well? No. No, it is not. As I said, it’s nice that there are women who are determined to seduce him so he can guard their city-state or the like, and I appreciate that they have their own goals, but the bulk of the female cast is either sycophantic or immediately disposable (you can tell they’re about to be disposed of in a scene or two because they do “corruption-face,” which most of you who watch anime - particularly harem anime - probably know what I’m talking about even if you haven’t heard of it being termed this way before) and men besides protag-kun are either forgettably bland or they’re evil and thus even more disposable than the non-harem women.

BUT. Its use of the “guy doesn’t pursue the piles of women surrounding him” aspect of the trope is possibly better-justified than any I’ve seen anywhere else.

#how not to summon a demon lord #anime #review

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astermacguffin · 3 years

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Sorry for churning out another self-indulgent AU that will take me forever to work on, but I'm obsessed with the concept of a destiel enemies-to-lovers logician AU. (Yes I already have a joenicky/kaysanova version of this and frankly I don't care lol)

LISTEN. I know it's more popular to put Dean in professions that get his hands involved (mechanic, baker, etc.) rather than very conceptual/academic professions BUT. Dean would absolutely love the elegant simplicity of formal logic.

Easy, guaranteed, and clear-cut answers that you get out of following simple rules? Dean would LOVE that after having such a difficult and complicated life.

I think Dean would specialize in the large family of modal logics, specifically deontic logic—the logic of obligations. Dean "miserable pile of familial obligations" would unfortunately enjoy this field. (No, he won't be an ethicist because he has fucked up ethics; moral philosophy won't fix him. Maybe some therapy and gay sex will.)

Castiel, on the other hand, is a logician/theologian/metaphysicist. He went to college for a religious studies degree but it turns out he likes the application of logic in God-talk more than the God-talk itself, so he switched specializations. He's one of the leading scholars in process theology, liberation theology, and the controversies surrounding S5 modal logics and the modal ontological argument.

So. Dean and Cas are both modal logicians with different specializations. Here's what happens:

They both have presentations for a logic conference the next day, so they go to a bar to unwind and maybe get laid.

They meet, have a one-night stand, and part ways.

Turns out they're both attending the same conference. They're not fully convinced with each other's ideas. Their playful bickering in the snacks table eventually devolves into a full-on fight. Someone has to physically restrain them.

Their rivalry eventually gets notorious in academic circles. They perform "academic fistfights" by constantly writing critical response papers to each other's works. There's wikipedia articles documenting their extensive history of flirt-fighting and the surprising amount of new literature written because of their public feud.

To be clear, they're not writing garbage work just to dunk on each other. They're genuinely contributing to the academic discourse. But if you look at their bibliography of works, the staggering amount of stuff they've written about or in response to the other is...alarming.

Absolutely no one discourages their fights because (1) it's entertaining and (2) it's producing a godawful amount of insightful literature. There's bets about when they're going to fuck it out (because no one knows about their one-night stand except maybe Sam, who finds this entire thing stupid but amusing).

One time, they get drunk in an afterparty. Cue some aggressive and very homoerotic banter. This eventually devolves into an elaborate game of gay chicken. Whoever gives up first must write an article where they support the thesis of the other.

They're both "you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid" at each other. They constantly flirt and seduce one another, waiting for the other one to finally give in. They do this in conferences as well.

Fellow logicians almost prefer the shouting and near fist-fights over their very inappropriate flirty banter in public. No one dares ban them in events because (1) again, they're entertaining, and (2) they're big-name academics.

Since they're both fucking competitive, they constantly try to one-up each other. They ask each other to go out in dates and stuff. Eventually, they start to genuinely learn things about each other and go "huh. You're not so bad after all."

When they first collaborate and publish their joint work, everyone loses their mind. Are they friends now? Did they finally fuck? Both of them find the reactions very amusing.

Eventually, they start hanging out outside of their competitive dates and simply as friends. They still haven't kissed or fucked ever since. When they first both realize that they're falling in love, they're like: "Shit."

Unfortunately, they're in too deep. These bastards are too prideful to be the one to admit their feelings. Both Dean and Cas talk to their brothers about this. They're both told how stupid they are.

This all comes to a head when Cas finally gives in and fucks Dean. Cas is about to confess his feelings when Dean starts chuckling.

"What's so funny?" Cas asks. "Well, I mean. Guess I should expect that article soon, right?" Dean says in an attempt to hide his fears with playful banter. Cas squints at him. "What article?"

Dean stammers in response. "I–you know? The bet we made? The bet that started it all? That's... that's what this is all about, right?"

Cas' face shuts off, devoid of emotion. "Right. Yes. Why don't you leave now so I can start writing that, hmm?" The smile on his face is big, but Dean knows it's fake and wrong.

"Cas, wait—" "DEAN. Please. Leave my apartment." Reluctantly, Dean dresses up for his walk of shame, leaving the apartment.

The next morning, the article comes out. It's short and not written very well. Everyone is confused about the sudden drop in quality.

They stop writing response works to each other, which alerts the entire academic community. They also visibly avoid each other in conferences now. Their fellow academics take it back: they would prefer the insufferably horny flirting over this cold, silent treatment. Everyone feels the tension and it's not as lively anymore.

Cas is miserable because he thinks his feelings are unrequited. Dean feels miserable because Cas has since stopped replying to his texts and calls.

In his last-ditch attempt to get through Cas, Dean writes a celebratory primer, summarizing Cas' entire bibliography and important contributions to the field throughout his entire career. Interspersed in the writing are personal reflections on Cas' character as a thinker and a person, as well as little in-jokes meant only for Cas' eyes. It's the most sappy and gayass bibliographic summary ever written.

Cas, of course, reads this and understands the intent behind it. He finally calls Dean, they meet, they hash things out, admit their feelings, and finally kiss. Yada yada happy ending

Later on, when they finally publish their first joint work as a married couple, everyone loses their minds. Again.

#spn #destiel #destiel logican au #this was so much fun to write #destiel fic #aster writes

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metalheadkells · 3 years

Text

this draft is not even close to presentable yet but i have to give you something from it

“What’s it like, waking up every day and knowing you’re a fuckin’ legend?”

Em grimaces. “C’mon.”

“What? Why do you hate it so much when I say shit like that?”

“‘cause it makes you sound like a fanboy. Hold still.”

Em is in the middle of bandaging a gnarly cut Colson had inflicted upon himself while trying to unclog Em’s garbage disposal, against his insistence that he would call his guy to come fix it. Colson had, of course, used a knife for his ill-fated attempt. He simply can’t resist an opportunity to possibly do something (anything) that Em couldn’t do much better himself. It’s not the first time he’s accidentally gotten hurt as a result.

“Well, I was a fanboy, remember? For, like, most of my life? I was kinda in love with you when I was a kid.”

Ha, Colson thinks, self-reproachfully, coward.

Em finishes with the bandage, and sort of strokes a thumb over it for a second, before he releases Colson’s hand and says, quietly, “Glad you grew out of it.”

What does that mean, Colson desperately wishes he could scream at him, I want to know everything you’re thinking and feeling. I want to be inside you.

“Maybe I didn’t,” Colson says, adrenaline setting his body alight.

Em gives him a look like he’s sizing him up. “You did,” he says definitively, after a beat, “‘cause that version of me don’t exist no more.”

“What if I like this version of you better,” Colson mumbles, his heart caught in his throat.

Something flickers in Em’s eyes that Colson is too keyed-up to interpret.

“Why would you?” Em asks, looking like he genuinely doesn’t understand. “Most people - excluding friends and family - clearly miss that other guy.”

“Are we not friends?” The answer to this question is so important to Colson that he really doesn’t know what he’d do if Em said no, of course they’re not friends, and is Colson stupid or something? He’d probably straight-up die.

Em’s mouth twitches like it does when he’s trying his best not to smile.

Thank god.

“Sure we’re friends,” Em says, “but you don’t know me like that.”

“Let’s fix that, then,” Colson says, as confidently as if his pounding heart isn’t choking him as he speaks.

Em narrows his eyes at him. “I don’t get you. Why’re you tryin’ so hard?”

For a horrifying, fraught second, Colson thinks he’s about to fucking cry. And then Em adds, “I’m old news. And my life is definitely boring, compared to yours. There ain’t much for you to gain.”

“Besides the magic of your company, you mean?”

Colson has no clue where his brain is pulling these bold quips from, considering it feels like a pile of formless sludge up there.

Em actually laughs, then hides his mouth behind his palm, amusement shining through in his voice when he says, “Magic, huh?”

Colson grins uncontrollably. “Hell yeah, dude. You teach me something new every time we talk; it’s fuckin’... incredible. And you’re so fucking funny? It’s crazy how many people don’t know that. But at the same time, I’m kinda happy about it, ‘cause, like, I feel like I wanna keep you all to myself sometimes.”

Oops. Too far.

Em is making this expression that Colson can only describe as constipated, and he’s just about to open his mouth to frantically backpedal, when Em says, “You’re pretty funny yourself.”

“Yeah?” Colson tries not to sound too starved for validation, he really does.

“Yeah. You got jokes.” Em pauses, then adds, “You’re weirdly easy to talk to, you know that? One of these days, I’m gonna spill some deep dark secret to you without thinkin’ twice, and you’ll go to the tabloids with it after you dump my ass, and I’ll feel like the world’s biggest idiot.”

“Oh,” Colson says dumbly, struggling to process everything Em just said.

Dump my ass. Odd choice of words, right? And also, what deep dark secret?

“You really think I’m easy to talk to?” Colson finally registers the compliment in the midst of his internal hemming and hawing, and it makes his ears grow hot and his face prickle.

“Too easy,” Em confirms. “I dunno where the time goes, when we’re together.”

Together, Colson thinks, digging his fingernails into the skin of his own palms to tether himself to earth. It’s such a loaded word.

He’s just being nice. Don’t read so much into it.

“I feel that too,” Colson says breathlessly, “I never wanna leave.”

Em changes the subject so deftly that it takes Colson like a full minute to catch up, but there’s so much going on in his head that he would have been totally lost regardless.

#emgk #mine #m: fic #someone help meeeeee get over my writer's bloooock #rough draft hell

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riddleblack246 · 4 years

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For @scoobydean and @destielsecretsanta2020

“This could be nice for Jack.”

“’My First Christmas’. Cas, this is meant for babies.”

“It’s still his first Christmas with us.”

“That mean we should get one for you too?”

“If you’d like.”

Read below for some Team Free Will 3.0 holiday head canons~!

After everything goes down with Jack makes use of his new abilities, Sam and Dean are much more willing to fight to keep him with them. He initially wonders if it is because he’s “useful” to them now. The brothers promptly inform him that no, it’s because this is the first time where they can all feel safe enough to take a breath. Sure, they’re still hunters. But after everything they’ve been through, they all deserve a chance to enjoy life without constantly looking over their shoulders. And so Jack stays.

As promised, he brought back those that were loved and lost. Obviously everyone is relieved and thankful, but that is most clearly seen in the return of Eileen and Castiel. Sam and Eileen are quick to pick up where they left off. Castiel, however, is a bit more hesitant. He didn’t expect to ever see Dean again. He truly thought he wouldn’t have to know Dean’s feelings and when he confessed, he felt he could live with that. But now he’s suddenly back in this world, aware of his existence and the knowledge that he told the man he’d been in love with for over a decade how he felt. But Dean doesn’t allow him to panic for long. Enveloping Cas in his arms, he’s squeezing the angel’s vessel so tightly that he can barely get out the words. Nonetheless, he does and finally returns the sentiment that Castiel never expected to hear.

“I love you too, Cas.”

And now to dig into holiday centric joys!

By the time Christmas rolls around, the bunker’s primary couples have developed a sense of routine. Eileen has finally moved in and Dean and Castiel have eased into a comfortable romantic domesticity. And for the first time in a while, there are no hunts to investigate or major threats to take on, and the Winchesters found themselves able to celebrate the holidays in a way that they hadn’t had a chance to in some time (save for the Mrs. Butters stint).

On the first of December, Dean sits down in the library and begins to make a list, trying to figure out exactly what was expected of a traditional Christmas. When Sam catches him, he expects scoffs of disagreement or just bored indifference. Instead, he supplies the idea of inviting some people to the bunker.

“What, Sammy? You want to throw a Christmas rager?” (The statement does earn him an eye roll)

“No. I just thought it might be nice. See everyone together.”

Neither of them explicitly say why it would be nice, but they know the relief that would come with seeing each person they never expected to see again. Dean tasks his brother with making a guest list and sending out an e-mail to those on it (because Dean draws the line at trying to make actual invitations).

The response is overwhelmingly positive and soon enough, they’re fielding constant texts from Garth, asking if it would be okay to bring his kids, and e-mails from Donna, offering to bake a multitude of requested holiday treats.

Amidst holiday planning, the group allows themselves to give into expectations of the season. Jack and Castiel are largely in the dark of what is or isn’t part of the holidays and while Dean, Sam, and Eileen aren’t the most immersed, they do have an idea of what is to be done and are admittedly eager to dive in.

One of the first things on Dean’s list is to decorate a tree. He even insists on cutting one down himself, as aside from various times he had to cut and sharpen his own stakes, it’s something he’s never had a chance to do. Sam, reluctant to join him, tells his brother to have fun. In the spirit of “giving”, Dean bring Cas and Jack along, assuring Sam and Eileen that they’ll “be a while ;)”. They return some hours later with a tree that rivals the Rockefeller Center and relief in the fact that they have two celestial beings to transport something of that size. Decorating it is another story.

After digging through the bunker and finding that, no, the Men of Letters did not hoard Christmas ornaments or wreaths or any such things among their piles of artifacts and cursed objects, the groups decides to get a little shopping done. They initially hit a big box store for a bunch of basics - lights, tinsel, various colored balls (Dean makes several jokes about this), but as the month goes on, all of them are guilty of picking up random items to decorate with while out.

Eileen delightedly shows her boys a Christmas pyramid she bought and is quick to tell Jack that he can’t light it whenever he wants, as forgetting about it could result in burning down the bunker.

Sam buys all of them advent calendars, each dedicated specifically to every member of the bunker. Dean doesn’t comment on Sam’s shift toward the holiday spirit, not only because he’s happy that his brother has allowed himself to be more joyfully invested in things, but also because every day for the month he gets to appreciate a new and weird specialty bottle of hot sauce. Sam’s own contains different types of tea, Eileen’s has jam, Jack’s has little LEGO figures, and Castiel’s has coffee.

Jack nearly gives Dean a heart attack one morning when the man wakes up to find a nutcracker as tall as he is in the crow’s nest. Jack tells him all about finding it in a shop he and Castiel passed when getting supplies and insisting that it was a perfect thing to have for the bunker. Dean looks to Castiel and knows the angel would have been too soft to say no. Then again, he knows he would have been just as guilty.

Castiel begins buying ornaments for people in the bunker. Even with Dean teasing him about it, he does buy a “my first Christmas” ornament and puts a photo of Jack inside that Eileen helped him print out. He finds that he is particularly fond of ornaments that contain photos and begins to buy ones for that explicit purpose.

Dean doesn’t necessarily have a type of decoration that he finds himself buying outside of what they have, but he is fond of the lights. He usually insists they stay on as long as allotted, urging whoever is the last to go to bed to turn them off (though it’s usually himself).

When it does snow, Dean is eventually irritable about it with Sam and Eileen in a similar boat, though to a lesser degree. Shoveling snow out of the way of the bunker’s entrance is a pain in the ass and none of them love the chore of getting treads on their respective tires. But seeing Jack’s fascination with it - and realizing that it’s his first time encountering snow, they find themselves softening.

After getting help in clearing access to the bunker, the group spends much of the day outside. There is an unspoken agreement that they want Jack to experience all the great enjoyments of snow and it honestly brings out the kid in them too. They build a mediocre snowman (Sam takes the heat for his poor artistic skills), make snow angels (the jokes about Castiel doing so get old within five minutes), have a snowball fight (Eileen is fucking ruthless and not above putting snow down jackets), and creating makeshift sleds to race. The sledding is what ultimately makes them go back inside. Garbage can lids are hard to steer and after Dean eats it by running into a tree and loosing a tooth, even Cas fixing it doesn’t resolve the choice to go in. Nonetheless, the accident doesn’t stall the mood, as Dean insists on introducing Jack to one more awesome component of the Traditional Snow Day - the hot chocolate at the end. Said hot cocoa almost results in a fight when, after Dean makes enough for all of them, Castiel reluctantly admits that he doesn’t care for it, and Dean and Jack nearly come to childish blows over who gets his mug. Later that evening, Castiel makes sure to thank Dean privately for allowing Jack to have it. ;)

Now, when it comes to cooking, Dean likes to consider himself pretty well-versed. Baking is another story. The preciseness that’s required is what gets him. Sure, he can be meticulous, but he’s always been more of a “little of this, a bunch of that” kind of guy over exact measurements, which leaves a lot more room for error when it comes to baking. But after going on a “Gilmore Girls” binge with Castiel (the couple constantly debates the superior show of the former and “Dr. Sexy, M.D.”), he can’t help imagining a scene of tenderly showing Cas how to roll out dough and mussing some flour in his hair and watching the angel lick the spoon in a way that borders on pornographic. The day after watching, he’s searching for cookie recipes and telling Castiel to dig out some aprons.

As is the Winchester way, this expectation does not come to fruition. Cas, as he thought, didn’t know a thing about cooking or baking. But Dean pictured being able to guide him, to do all the romantic shit you see in Hallmark movies. Instead, the angel is complaining about not being able to just will the baked goods into existence, standing in the way when Dean needs to get any kind of ingredient, and getting flour on every fucking surface in the kitchen. Things reach a boiling point when Cas pulls the cookies out of the oven, sans oven mitts, and for a brief moment, Dean’s brain operates on a panic reflex and snatches the tray from his hands. The result is their hours of baking scattered all over the floor, a dented baking sheet, and second-degree burns on the hunter’s hands. He’s huffing and cursing and he fully expects Cas to scold him and point out the obvious fact that he’s an angel and such temperatures have no effect on him. But instead, he watched Castiel pulled his hands from the faucet (having immediately shoved them under there after he burned himself) and tenderly brushes his finger tips over the wounds. Dean feels the familiar sensation of healing flesh, something he hasn’t felt in a bit and he’s silent as Cas brings the newly healed skin to his lips and presses a kiss to his palms. The irritability baking had brought them is gone. Dean lets Cas wave the kitchen clean and they decide to just go out and buy Christmas cookies instead. Later that evening, Cas’ lips taste like ginger and Dean finds that the reality is way better than the fantasy.

They ultimately end up hosting the party that started their shift into the Christmas spirit a few days before the actual holiday. After all, they know most of their friends prefer flying over driving and it might be a lot to ask them to come out on the actual holiday. But their concerns of traffic and irritated guests soon fly out the window in the face of so many familiar… well, faces. Hugs never stop coming and despite everyone’s claim that gifts would not be necessary, everyone knows that’s bullshit and a pile beneath their ridiculous tree grows with every teasing comment and expression of happy holidays.

Speaking of the tree, Castiel is quite pleased with his holiday crafting and the other members of the bunker share that sentiment. Since the angel discovered the photo-insert ornaments, he had taken it upon himself to spend random periods during the month finding photographs of each important person in their lives that he could and putting them into such items. Everyone takes joy in searching for their own picture. Claire comments that he picked a terrible one of her, but Cas hears her quietly asking Dean if she could take it home with her, as it features her and Kaia pressed close in a hug. Charlie adores her’s and insists that she wants to make the same craft, but only if they do it together. Everyone quietly appreciates the ones made for those that aren’t present to appreciate them. Jack ensures that Mary’s ornament has prime placement. Eileen hugs Sam when she catches him looking at Kevin’s for a while. Dean makes a point to kiss Castiel privately after finding Bobby’s nestled among some tinsel. Everyone agrees that their the best decorations in the place.

Hunters and those that know them have never been known to operate on a normal schedule, so it is nearly three in the morning before the bunker clears out. Some have elected to drive home if the trip was relatively easy. Others have settled into the many spare rooms that the bunker holds. Once all the gifts have been opened, the eggnog’s been drunk, and everyone has eaten their weight in treats, only Dean and Cas remain in the quiet bunker. They sit together in the library, positioned on one of the many extended seats they’d brought out to fit their guests. The lights of the enormous tree are still on at Dean’s request and Castiel can’t help staring at the way the different colors still look so beautiful on him. He glances up at the other decorations strewn about. The bows, the poinsettias (Garth had brought something like ten of them), the holly, the- He spots a familiar item of decor. He’d seen Sam and Eileen equally position themselves under it in wait of their partner, always stopping them with the insistence that a kiss must be administered before they continue on their way about the bunker. Lazily, he nudges Dean and points to the archways between the crow’s nest and the hall that leads to the bedrooms.

“Is standing beneath that a requirement for kissing?”

Dean follows his finger and huff out a laugh. Even though they hadn’t been dating long, they’d been together for so many years that he knows the angel is teasing. He turns to meet his eyes, smiling at the way the lights almost change them from blue to a rainbow of color.

“What, you want to kiss under the mistletoe? Now?”

For a moment, it seems as if he’s considering the offer. But instead, he shakes his head and reaches a hand up to cup Dean’s cheek. He knows that he could have kiss Dean under there the same way Eileen and Sam do. But he knows they’re different. Dean is a lot of thing and as much as he would deny it, one of those things is private. Their relationship is simultaneously new and so so ingrained into their life. Affection was always something there, just beneath the surface. And while he had the thing he desired for so long, that doesn’t mean he feels the need to push Dean into a realm of affection that just isn’t fitting of who they are together. Leaning forward, he captures Dean’s lips in a kiss. He tastes like eggnog and candy cane.

Castiel understands all the more that happiness is in the being. And he no longer fears his joy. Because he can’t imagine being happier than holding Dean beneath these lights and knowing that they still have tomorrow and so many days to come. There is no better present than that.

#destielsecretsanta2020 #scoobydean #supernatural #Destiel #saileen #saleen #jack kline #my posts

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