handyhometips

[romiantic]

as a christian saying this, nobody is more of a bigot than Christians and then wanna cry wolf when they’re attacked

[bloodblanks]

when you’re sad

ft: eyeless jack, masky, hoodie, ticci toby, jeff the killer, ben drowned, slenderman

author's note: this fanfiction will contain mildly dark content, including mentions of violence, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

eyeless jack

jack is probably one of the best with feelings, even though he may not seem like it. he’s not just an expert with medical affairs, but he has also studied psychology.

so not only is he good at reading you like an open book—he can accurately guess how you feel based on your behaviour, body language, facial expressions and so on—he is also skilled at being compassionate and empathizing with you. and you appreciate it, because not only is he understanding but he’s also knowledgeable about your feelings and struggles.

it’s nice, being able to be vulnerable with jack and know that you’re in good hands

so when you’re sad, he can easily tell, he already knows without you needing to say it and that’s nice as well, it saved you the difficulty of having to initiate the conversation because he’ll ask you about it.

“what’s wrong, love?”

if you don’t want to talk about it though, that’s fine as well. jack won’t push, he won’t pry, he’ll just accept that you might have a hard time opening up about it and instead focus on just trying to comfort you.

his touch is gentle, his embrace is tender, and his care is apparent when he takes you into his arms, your head buried in his chest—if you wanted to cry into his shirt he wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

and he’ll stroke your hair slowly, running his fingers through each strand as he used his specialized hearing to listen for your pulse and your breathing, listen for it and hear it slow down to a normal pace before he’d let go.

if you wanted to talk about it though, jack would be all ears. he would calmly and patiently listen to every single one of your problems, no matter how long the list, and he’d know not to interrupt but he would still show that he was paying attention.

and if none of that was enough to make you feel better, then he’d take matters into his own hands, he’d figure out the answers to your problems.

and he’d fix them for you.

masky

tim was never good with anything delicate and fragile, which is what he considered you to be.

he was very rough, all harsh edges and blunt words. and in general, he was just a bitter, sarcastic, temperamental man. god knows how he ended up with a pretty little thing like you, but he somehow did, and now he was in very big trouble for it.

see, something had obviously upset you, because you had come home that day, and instantly tim could sense the despondent attitude you gave off. something was wrong, alright, but what the fuck was he supposed to do about it?

when something bothered him, he would usually just go for a smoke, or punch someone in the face, maybe go for a murder or two if his mood was particularly foul. but he knew that wouldn’t do, not here, not with you. you needed something else, something along the lines of care and comfort, and he was responsible for providing that.

he’d view it as a hinderance, a bother almost, but not enough to not do it or complain about it, just enough that he’d be hesitant and drag his feet a bit when he’d go over to you, awkwardly wrap his arms around you in a tender hug. he’d give you some reassuring pats on the back, before asking, in that gruff voice he always used whenever he felt uncomfortable or awkward, “what’s going on, darling?”

he wouldn’t ever say it to you, but he actually preferred it if you didn’t tell him what was happening. you telling him would mean that he would have to talk about it, something he preferred far less to simply patting your back, rubbing your shoulders and caressing your face, just simple touches in an attempt to give you reassurance and comfort of sorts.

if he did have to talk about it, he’d keep it simple.

“oh princess, everything’s going to be okay.”

he wasn’t sure if it would be okay, but fuck it, he had to tell you something, and that was better than nothing. but if it really wasn’t okay and sometimes, you’d insist on that being the case, then tim would be at a loss of what to do. at that point, he’d probably just offer to take you out to a diner, grab some pancakes and whatnot, his treat, of course.

tim really didn’t like having to deal with things like this, but goddammit, because he did in fact like you. and it was weird for him to feel this way, but at the end of the day, all of this only bothered him because he just wanted things to be okay.

he just wanted you to be okay.

hoodie

brian was an interesting guy. he was anything and everything at once. sweet and charming, sly and manipulative, soft and sensitive, the list goes on.

but what really stood out about him was just how loving and caring he could be. which automatically makes him one of the best people to go to for comfort.

key word, comfort, and not overall, because while brian was smart and cunning, he wasn’t the best at solving problems that didn’t involve manipulating someone. nor was he really the type to uh, murder anyone that hurts you. not that he wasn’t protective or anything, he was, but he just… wasn’t like that. and plus he didn’t think it’d actually help the situation, only likely make it worse.

however, he was a very good listener, he’ll pay close attention to every word that comes out of your mouth, even when it’d be unintelligible sobs and hiccups.

and this is where brian’s silver tongue came into play.

he’d know just the exact right things to say to soothe you and calm you down. he’d know just the exact right things to say to show that he understood, that you weren’t alone, and that he cared. he’s very good at just being kind and supportive. and it never failed to bring you comfort, knowing that no matter what happens, there would always be at least one person that would have your back.

so no matter how sad you are, no matter what went wrong in your life, you’d know that he’ll always be there for you. you’d know that you’d always have someone who cares, who loves you for who you are and who would take good care of you. you’d know that you were in good hands, you’d know that you could trust him and you’d just know that you were safe.

and that in some odd way, everything was going to be okay. as long as you had him, and you always will.

he’d make sure you never forget that.

ticci toby

physical pain? nope.

but toby sure as hell understood emotional pain.

if anyone had emotional baggage and trauma, it would be him, with having had a deceased sister and an abusive, neglectful father and a doormat of a mother. and of course, there was the fact that he had borderline personality disorder, making emotions all the more volatile and difficult to handle for him.

yeah, toby was an emotional wreck. so, it was easy for him to be empathetic towards whatever pain and suffering you were going through.

however, toby was kind of awkward.

he understood, he related, and he empathized, but he didn’t really know what to do with that. he wouldn’t know what exactly the right words to say would be, nor the appropriate actions to take in order to comfort you. instead, he’d crack a few jokes, make a couple sarcastic, satirical comments in regards to the situation, hoping that it’d help in some weird way. and sometimes, it would.

during the times in which that failed, though, toby had a plan b. and that was well, good ol’ netflix. yup, toby would drag you over to the sofa—cuddles and watching netflix together. 

he’s a pretty touchy person in general, but this would be on a whole other level. he’d be practically wrapped around you the way a koala would to a tree, cradling you so close to him that you’d swear he was cutting off your circulation. but it did feel nice, and you did feel cared for.

even if toby was a bit odd about it.

jeff the killer

emotions are not jeff’s forte.

in fact, he’s probably as horrible at dealing with them as can be.

honestly, he was actually a somewhat emotional person himself, a ball of bitter teen angst and hormones, but he didn’t like that at all. no, he didn’t like being that. so instead, he’d kill his emotions just like he would his victims. instead replacing anything and everything he feels with a cold, hard, and downright psychopathic exterior.

yeah, jeff really didn’t like facing his own emotions. so when he’s met with yours, well, he has no idea what to do.

yeah, you were his darling and everything, yeah, he wanted you. but no, he did not want to deal with whatever the fuck you were feeling right now, with your cracking voice and saddened sniffling sounds.

he’d decide the best thing to do would be to ignore it, and wait for it to pass. and usually, you would get over it, just like he’d hoped for.

however, sometimes there would be a rather serious problem at hand, and you wouldn’t just ‘get over it’. the issue would persist, and you would stay upset, and jeff wasn’t stupid even though he sometimes pretended to be. he’d know.

at that point, jeff would be forced to deal with it, and he’d force himself to hesitantly ask you just what was going on

when you’d tell him, he’d try to help, but his answer to almost any issue you could have would be well, violence. just kill whoever or whatever was making you upset and problem solved, right? that was his answer to anything.

if you rejected that, though, insisting that it wouldn’t actually help, then jeff would feel really forced into a corner. emotionally support you? okay, but how?

he’d be harsh, saying things like, “big deal”, “who cares”, “just forget about it” and so on. but it wasn’t with bad intentions, and it wasn’t because he didn’t care, per se. it was just the best he could manage, and his idea of trying to comfort you.

nonetheless, jeff tends to shut out his own emotions, so don’t be surprised when he does the same with yours.

ben drowned

as soon as you stepped into the home, he’d know that something was wrong, because even if he wasn’t at the front door and instead upstairs or something, he’d still see that something was wrong from your expression. maybe it was the bloodshot eyes from crying, maybe it was the puffiness or maybe it was just the fact that he knew you well enough to know your facial expressions.

but he’d have seen it right away. he liked watching the security cameras, after all.

so by the time you had made your way upstairs and into his bedroom in search for him, he’d already be waiting there with a collection of various snacks, sweets, blankets and pillows.

as soon as the two of you made eye contact, he’d ask you, “hey, what’s wrong?” and listen carefully as you explained what was going on.

now, ben was no expert with people or psychology or anything along those lines. it wasn’t the bane of his existence by any means, but he just possessed no particular talent or aptitude with it, either. so talking to him often resulted in him nodding along while providing comments such as “damn, i’m sorry to hear that”, “that really sucks”, and so on.

sure, they sounded pretty generic, but they were genuine, he meant every word he said to you because he really did feel bad for you knowing that someone or something had upset you.

ben is empathetic, but he isn’t the most sensitive person. however, he was good at being able to relate, and he liked to talk, anyway, so he’d happily discuss the situation with you, and more often than not, he would tell stories of his own of similar events, in order to help you feel less alone in your struggles

of course, all the while he’d be offering you the snacks he had gathered, wrapping you up in blankets and snuggling up with you. he’d ask if you wanted to put on a show, or play a game—he’d even let you win, he was nice like that—anything to distract you from your sadness.

ben may not be psychiatrist material, but he was a good friend, and an equally caring partner.

slenderman

did i say jack was the best with emotions?

slender might contest that, actually.

after all, the eldritch entity has been alive for centuries—he has such a vast array of knowledge, especially about humans. from the first days of psychology, to freud, to modern day science, he’s seen and read it all.

he’s very interested in and knowledgeable about how humans behave, so it’s no surprise to him, only a shame when he sees you sad, something clearly on your mind.

and to be completely honest? slender didn’t even need to learn psychology, after all, he could literally read minds, he was telepathic. so, the second something is wrong, there’s no hiding it from him, he knows. you wouldn’t have to talk about it, you wouldn’t have to say a word, the second you got near his presence he’d be able to read all your thoughts and he’d be able to assess the situation.

of course, he always gave you the option to talk about it if that’s what you wanted to do. just because he already knew didn’t mean that he minded listening to you say what was on your mind, still. he could offer an ear to listen, always.

but since there was usually not the need for that, he’d just move to take you into his chest, wrapping his long, slender arms around you. while he was holding you, he’d let out his tentacles, each of them doing their own task of comforting you. one tangled in your hair, smoothing it out, one cupping your cheek, stroking it, another patting your back to soothe you, and the rest just wrapped around your body alongside his arms, giving you a sensation of being cocooned.

as he was comforting you, he’d have assessed the situation already, and would have figured out what the correct solution would be. and once you felt okay enough, and he would know exactly when that was, he’d tell you his thoughts, or he’d unwrap himself from you and excuse his presence. he’d leave to go and do whatever he needed to in order to make things better.

after all, he was powerful, and he’d use those powers to protect you.

[hecksupremechips]

When I think about Mizuki in aini it’s like, I know something is just so off about her but I have trouble articulating it. It’s really frustrating cuz she was like my favorite character in the first game and when I play the first game I feel like I have a really good idea of who she is as a character. Like she acts strong and and hangs out with people much older than her and has to take on a fuck ton of responsibility but she’s also just a kid she cuddles with a rabbit toy she raises fish in the fridge she can be kinda gullible in the way that kids are and she doesn’t always understand more mature jokes. She acts sassy and hostile towards Date but she’s described as kinda and compassionate by Hitomi and she defends the weak and loves her friends deeply and thinks Aiba is cute. She pokes fun at Date for being grumpy at the shrine and then excitedly holds his hand and drags him over to the offering box to pray for his safety and she gets scared when there’s danger and she hugs Date for comfort but then tries to brush it off because she was taught to feel shame whenever she required basic attention and affection. She was hurt badly by her biological family and finds herself at home with Date despite her fears of him not caring for her. Like she’s a really solid well rounded character with strengths and weaknesses and her story makes me feel every possible emotion known to man

Then I play aini and I was soooo excited to see that Mizuki was gonna be a protagonist and that she had Aiba (its what made me buy the game immediately after finishing the first game lol) and then like. I honestly can’t tell you a damn thing about her character in aini. Like she’s the protagonist for half that game and I can’t think of any particular struggles she has as a character or like any moments where she stands out. It’s like, I know this is Mizuki she has the same basic features of that character but she’s not really given much? And anything new you learn about her is just like, retcons of her already established and well written backstory that just. Really didn’t need to be made and honestly they just kinda do a disservice to her character

Like first off there’s the Bibi twist which. Oof. I have some pretty complicated feelings about Bibi in general like okay. When she appears as the masked woman I was totally on board and thought she was really interesting and I was so prepared for her to be a favorite character her somnium is probably my favorite one in the game. And then she was revealed to be Mizuki. And it was revealed that we were playing as her for half of the B side of the story and we didn’t know it. Like, where to even begin. They stopped writing Bibi as her own character and she pretty much just became Mizuki except idk, she has a bigger grudge against Ryuki and has a heart condition I guess. And like I think it really speaks to how flat Mizuki was in this game if we can play as two completely different characters and have them be indistinguishable. Bibi shouldn’t be anything like Mizuki, they’ve lived completely different lives. And I hate the clone twist like good god I really hate the clone twist because IT ADDS NOTHING TO MIZUKIS CHARACTER OR HER CONFLICT. In fact it like, actively goes against her arc from the first game??? Cuz like half the point of Date and Mizuki’s relationship is there to show that family isn’t what you’re born with, it’s what you make. Both Date and Mizuki feel like their little family can’t exist because they’ve been taught, like most of us have, that biological family is the most important and real and valid way to have a family. You’re supposed to love and respect your biological parents because they MADE you, and Date has to live with the anguish that he can’t be Mizuki’s REAL father because they aren’t blood related. So like, to pull the rug away and go "oh yeah btw I guess Mizuki was adopted lol" it just completely erases what made her story so impactful to most people. And the clone reveal adds nothing like Mizuki doesn’t NEED this at all she wasn’t looking to discover the truth of her backstory because. There wasn’t any truths that needed to be discovered, we already know her deal and so does she. And her having a clone doesn’t really fit with the half to whole theme cuz like, she wasn’t looking for a fucking clone or like a secret sister or anything like that. It’s just stupid it’s so stupid

What Mizuki needed was like, a new actual conflict that required her to overcome challenges and grow as a character. A lot of people, myself included, have complained about how her relationship with Date just isn’t talked about hardly at all, how he went missing for 6 years and they didn’t even get a proper reunion and the game kinda mocks you for wanting one. We dont get any context as to how Mizuki coped during that time like she was completely alone for the most major years of her life she was separated from the one person who was her real family and we don’t know what she felt during all that cuz the game refuses to talk about it. And there isn’t much indication that the adults care about this either, Boss maybe has a soft spot for her but that’s kinda the extent of it, she makes a joke that Date is probably off chilling in a hot spring in Atami so clearly no one is giving Date’s disappearance the weight it deserves. So like, we have this potential thing we could work with here like why is Mizuki a detective now and why does she care about this case? Because her dad was taken by tearer and has been gone for 6 years and she’s been all alone and she wants to find him and find out if he’s even alive and she wants to kick tearers ass cuz he tore (hehe) her family apart. And this can also give her an actual connection to Ryuki too like Ryuki is the one who betrayed Date and knew some shit about tearer and saw what happened to Date and he just never told Mizuki the truth and she’s spent all this time looking for Date so this would be like, pretty major conflict when it all gets revealed. And it actually gives what Ryuki did actual consequences that affect him cuz honestly the fact that no one seems to care that much about Date’s disappearance makes Ryuki’s guilt and depression seem completely fucking useless lol. So here we go, that’s some conflict for Mizuki to have and it gives her a personal connection to the case, we can add more to it but really even this alone is way more than what she’s given in the actual game. And I think just the big problem with her in aini is I think the writers were too afraid to do anything that could ruin her character or cause her to change too much so they just like. Didn’t write anything that could allow her to develop and instead just fucked with already established information about her which. I honestly don’t know how that is seen as better??? In what fucking world. It just feels really pointless to have even made Mizuki a protagonist to begin with since they don’t really do anything with her and lol I think the writers realized this so that’s why like. Ryuki gets all the character conflict but makes lowkey no progress in the case and the real investigation doesn’t happen until the Mizuki side cuz they needed to make up for the fact they didn’t write anything for her alskla

So yeah just to wrap things up, Mizuki just didn’t get to be a character in aini and she wasn’t given any interesting conflict despite how easy it would’ve been cuz the writers were too scared of doing anything with this character that could ruin her but dude. Dont fucking make her the protagonist then if you’re too scared of doing anything with her. Don’t piss me off like that

[the-pale-chancellor]

I’m glad I get to talk about it with someone finally!

And while I do understand where you’re coming from for the most part, I do have a few rebuttals.

Also I must confess, I don’t speak Russian in any way shape or form. I’ve seen the subtitled earlier productions enough that I mostly know what’s going on, but I bet I’ve missed a couple things in this new show.

I’m gonna try to do it smart like you did and piece out my opinions.

First off

Characters: I know I’m in the minority but I actually LIKE most of what they did with Crysania. In my opinion from reading the books it felt like lazy writing for her to have no personality. As the female lead she needed to be fleshed out more. This Crysania gets to have emotions and a personality outside of feelings for Raistlin. It also feels like she is fully immersed in the more joyful and compassionate parts of her faith which make a lot more sense for her character instead of going from stoic and cold to insta love. Also the fact that it’s her singing at the end the poetic justice is just *chefs kiss!* GIRLY FINALLY GOT TO HAVE THE LAST WORD SHE DESERVES.

Raistlin honestly got more fleshed out as well. His one redeeming quality is that he shows compassion for those who are powerless and bullied by society. And he got to show off this quality quite a bit. As for what you said about the scene before the battle of Zhaman, I don’t see it quite as a Jesus thing so much as like him using his manipulative side to win himself a war, which is more or less what it’s always been in this show. Also they took out him assaulting Crysania which I appreciate. Also in the books Raistlin was pretty sick most of the time. So it’s accurate.

You’re right about the cabaret thing that’s weird. But does it bother me all that much? No not really. In the book if I remember correctly they were in a literal courtroom with Rasitlin on trial for his past so…..is it really and weirder?

Were the costumes bad? Yes. Was the set weird and sound quality bad? Yes. Did I find it weird the actress playing Crysania was blond? Yes . but none of those things really took away too much from it for me. I like seeing new actors get to play these parts. I don’t know if they’ll be other performances of this version, but if they can just iron out the technical issues and make some improvements costume wise I think it could get better!

Oh but Crysania still doesn't have emotions outside her love for Raistlin. All this cheerfullness may seem like her actually being fleshed out, helping and confronting the injustice (and yes, in the scenes with Istar she does just that, props to her, even tho if I remember correctly she kinda did the same in previous versions, might be wrong), bUT. When listening to what she's singing (and I am just conveying it because you don't know the language), she now doesn't go from cold to insta loving. She goes from seeing Raist for the first time and insta loving him, all her thoughts and songs are about how she could save him from like the very beginning of the musical and that's what bothers me. Yes, coldness seems lazy on her, but that happy babbling just feels wrong to me.

Of course you may like her new variation though! Everyone has different opinions and I believe yours is as valid here, just saying what I noticed :)

Also, about the Abyss part. Even though I didn't like cabaret, I, for some forsaken reason, adored the actual tango. The way Raist moved under control had something in it, but I remember similar thing with Egorov somewhere. Yet, God forbid me from talking any further because I will not stop internally laughing about 12th doc appearance of that man.

Overall: I'd say it wasn't all horrible, not at all. I'd put 6/10 for the whole thing, probably Saint-Petersburg's version is better as it was filmed 10 days after the YouTube one (and is actually on sale rn, but it costs 2000rub/~20$ so can't watch it). They need to polish things A LOT, but overall - fine enough.

Thank you for having a convo of opinions with me! Needed to share this with someone :)

[hannahlovesluca]

I heard u do Nijisanji matchups can i have one please 🥺

Nijisanji male romantic matchup plz

Gender: cis female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: heterosexual ally

Zodiac: Capricorn

Appearance: 5’2 African American hourglass body (although I’m more top heavy if you know what i mean) black curly wavy hair blackish brown eyes chubby cheeks wears glasses sometimes (im far sighted so it’s usually when driving in class or at the theater)

Mbti: infj

Enneagram: 2w1

Personality: kind smart funny motherly responsible empathetic anxious emotional moody perfectionist helpful people pleaser caring compassionate nerdy curious protective polite respectful indecisive fearful nervous introvert shy awkward clumsy low self esteem low confidence (more pertaining to my talents or personality then my looks) sassy sarcastic (I’m mainly these things with people i feel comfortable with like friends or family) soft spoken cute (my friends think im cute because i can be pretty innocent plus I’m small physically)

Likes: animals books reading writing fantasy magic sci fi anime music video games friends alone time learning personality quizzes sweets and bread helping being a part of something bigger than myself

Dislikes: spiders loud sounds people who harm others people who don’t take others into consideration (like make insensitive jokes or don’t consider the comfort of others or are mean just cause they can) people i care about not caring for themselves (im a hypocrite on this i take care of everyone else but not me) not being listened to weird holes and patterns math and tests (I’m being tested for a math disability and i have test anxiety)

Love language:

Giving: acts of service gift giving and physical affection (if they’re ok with it)

Receiving: words of affirmation and physical affection (although i can be shy about it)

Extra: i pace a lot i sing when im alone i talk to myself im a picky eater (mainly with textures) i have a cat i have minor ehlers danalos (a hyper mobility disorder) but it doesn’t hurt me like it does my sisters i get abdominal migraines which is basically like a migraine but instead of headaches it’s nausea

Thank you (lemme know if u wanna do a trade)

hello!!! honestly, you seem like such a great person!

i think you would do really well with…

Luca Kaneshiro!

Honestly, you guys have such diverse personalities that I genuinely just think you guys would get along great! Luca has stated before that he likes a more cat-like personality and shy people!

• He’s my oshi so im lowkey jealous but omg imagine him knowing about your disorder and carrying you/ giving you piggy back rides when you don’t feel so well or moving is extra hard for you <3

• he will make sure you’re always comfortable going on trips with him!! esp if youre a part of NIJISANJI and you have to go on a trip with him!!

• also, if you try to hide the fact that you’re not doing too well, he wont actually be mad, but he will pout and tell you to take care if yourself and run around the house doing things for you. (omg imagine him making you something to eat in a little apron AHHHHHH)

• Luca does NOT hide his feelings, he loves telling you just how much he loves you (although he will be flushged unless you’ve been together for awhile, even then he might still stutter), he has absolutely no problem with PDA and poor boy just wants to show the whole world how much he loves you - NIJI rules be damned.

• if he gets jealous, say another man is flirting w you or got you something NO HESITATION HE WILL WRAP HIS ARMS AROUND YOUR WAIST im kicking my feet oh my god

• SPEAKING OF WAIST. you have an hourglass body OH MY GOD HE LOVES YOUR HIPS SM. you guys are cuddling, his arms are wrapped around your hips. Waiting in line? Hand on your hip. ANYTHING - his hands are on your hips

• Luca does not understand how you genuinely like reading, however, he will absolutely let you read him to sleep if he cant sleep!

• speaking of sleep if he’s sick and you read or sing him to sleep he will actually melt oh my god please love on this man he will actually do anything for you

• “Y/N, why do you love me so much?”

I COULD WRITE SO MUCH MORE FOR THIS MAN PLSSSS IM IN LOVE

[celestie0]

ok i thought i would like kai and god how wrong i was ahhaha

when that thing with soccer ball happened i thought that satoru tried to intentionally kick it in kai’s face to create some distance between them💀 him being jealous and overprotective the whole chapter was so hot omg how do u make him so hot. 

i really don’t understand what kai’s goal was with that whole “interview”?? i mean i do but couldn’t he just tell her directly hey you’re just going to need to suck someone off if u want to succeed and not have her go through all of that and embarrass her?? or was the embarrassment the point?? also can we talk about how scary it is to go to a bar with 3 men that are basically strangers and shady asf, like i knew something was going to happen the moment that guy made a remark “you’re going to learn so much under him”. if i were her i would have went with satoru after he had pulled her over lolz but u can see how angry she was at him that she decided to ignore the red flags just to spite him

and the end with satoru saying that he’s going to help her and that she’s enough really shows the difference between him and kai. i hope the last 3 chapters are full of fluffff cause our girl has been going through itttt but i also hope she does make him beg and grovel just because of how bipolar he has been acting.

overall great chapter and definitely worth the wait!!! 

omg dear reader i love how fkn real u keep it always 😭🤣 AND THE LENGTH of ur asks im always so sobbed to see it 😭💕 thank u for taking the time

OMG pls tbvh i thought of that being the case (gojo kicking ball to kai) but changed my mind in the end loool but nah he was just distracted seein them tgthr. and aaa yea he was in overprotective mode this whole chap he just cant help getting involved w her 😭😭

yea i thought a lot ab kai’s motives in this chapter. he clearly likes/was attracted to her since the beginning, but when she rejected his kiss, he realized there’s not rly much to be built there (or in his mind she doesn’t “put out” easy 🙄),, so she lost favor w him and he pretended to look out for her just to be spiteful after that. i guess i liken it to guys that are only nice to girls if they’re attracted to them and/or provide them w something like sex or attention. i think in ch8 he was genuinely looking out for her (albeit not very compassionately), but after she rejected his kiss, he was like meh idc to be careful ab this anymore. but also, i think he himself didnt realize that she is pretty capable and actually has a decent resume/shot at the dreams he gave up on, so the more he learned ab it, the more insecure he became ab his own goals and also her rejection of him, and then bam he felt compelled to embarrass her (grade A asshole). but also, he got her hopes up w a decent sounding job, just to crush em, which he knew would add to the pain

and yea i think her red flag radar was goin off the whole time w kai and her friends but mannn i think she just was rly desperate given everything going on 😔 and yea i mean satoru was always gonna keep an eye on her for sure regardless, but she was angry w him, he was hurt by her, just not a good environment for mutual support and care to occur lmfao. ur so right tho that wld be such a terrifying situation to get yourself into

and i knowwwww reader went thru so fkn much this chapter i felt so bad 😭 but yeah there will probs be more than three chapters haha cuz i have a lot more stuff to cover, but it’s def satoru’s turn to obsessively pine over her lmao.

THANK YOU DEAR FOR THE ASK IM SORRY FOR MATCHING IT W AN EVEN LONGER ONE but your comments just spark sm of my thinking cells haha. hope to see you in the next one <333 💕💕💕

[kexing]

[if you find it creepy that I comment on your mental health notes like a creeper, please say so]

Hey MJ. I read your notes about making zero progress and going backwards. I don’t want to offer platitudes or condescend to you because i don’t know what your life is like and what you’re dealing with, but i wanted you to know that from this internet stranger’s perspective, you are brave and strong. Because i look at your blog, and i see someone who is kind and compassionate, who loves passionately and unapologetically, someone who is still hopeful. And to me, that takes courage, that takes emotional strength and resilience, to still see beauty in the darkness, to put yourself out there where others can see, to deliberately choose love and kindness over and over again.

Yours is the only blog i visit regularly because you are witty and talented and unhinged in the best kind of way, yes, but above all because your blog is a safe place for me. Last week i had to put down my 14-year-old cat. It was one of the hardest things i’ve ever had to do. I had a panic attack at work and had to take the rest of the day off. I got home and opened Tumblr and looked at your Dating Sim gif sets. And it just settled something deep inside me. I’m still a mess, but when i need a smile or to escape for a little while, your blog is my go-to. Think of the prettiest pink sky, the softest soft hug, that is what your blog is to me. And all you ever had to do is be your—talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique—self. 💖

[you said that you sometimes find motivation in fannish things but not so much in other things. someone i respect very much once said that to be a fan of / be obsessed with something, that is living with love. those who know love and those who don’t have very different qualities of life. i think it’s such a lovely way to describe hyperfixation: we are living with love]

i do not find it creepy, friend!! this is a public blog and i enjoy when people interact with my posts/tags. promise, it’s all fine! 🥰🥰🥰

hi! first of all, my DEEPEST condolences to you. i know how pets can be super important to us, my dog is already old and sometimes i try to prepare myself because i know sooner or later he’ll have to leave me. but i don’t think one can truly be ready for something like that. so i completely understand your struggle and even though it’s so incredibly hard, you’re dealing with it as best as you can and you’re sooo strong for that!! most days i don’t think i live on without my dog. god knows how exactly i’m going to do that akdkskdkks but we gotta live one day at a time and make the most of them. it’s all we really have!

so i’m sending you lots of hugs and positive energy!!

when you mentioned visiting my blog regularly and feeling a little better after seeing my our dating sim gifset, i legit started crying 😭😭😭 (granted, i cried a lot today but this is the first happy tears. so thank you!)

i mean, i do like sharing about my struggles sometimes because i don’t want people to think i’m just preaching toxic positivity and that i never go through tough times when that’s simply not true. i hit rock bottom every day but happiness is made of lil moments and i get to have many of those throughout the day as well, most of them here making and sharing things i love with my mutuals.

it’s just my choice to focus on the good moments instead of the bad ones and i want to be defined by my choices, not my struggles.

but i didn’t really expect to bring that kind of comfort to someone else and it really moves me that i can help you in any way, even if just for one second. losing a loved one is sooooooo hard, i’m happy that i can keep you company and that this can be a safe place for you, even if i didn’t know that. so thank you for telling me about it!!

we are living with love 🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭 that is so beautiful and so true!!!

and you know what? i can live without being loved but i simply cannot live without loving things and people but i wouldn’t have it any other way!!! while being loved is one of the most wonderful things ever, i get to have little pieces of everything that i love in me as well and that’s enough 🥰

thank you so much for reaching out!! for writing such lovely words, they really touched a very deeeeeeeeep part of my heart and i feel floored by your kindness.

takes a brave, strong and compassionate person to know what bravery, strength and compassion look like. so everything you see in me reflects exactly the type of person you are!! we’re all mirrors of our thoughts and actions!!!

i’m sure your cat had a lovely life and was very lucky to be loved by you!!!!!!!!!!

take care of yourself, angel!!!! love you ❤️💙

[aajjks]

TC!JK

“and now, one more promise i’d like to make to you” he says and you raise your eyebrow. curious as to what exactly could he promising you. your freedom? too soon? “i won’t force you to ever warm my bed. that is until you will beg for me to have you”

it almost sounds like a challenge because you warming his bed? does he mean intimacy? you’re not completely sure but you’re glad he at least knows what consent is considering he hasn’t cared about your consent until now. but begging? you?

you nod your head and give him a small smile. the rest of the day was easy after that. you both still continued to sleep in separate rooms but you were barely getting any sleep nowadays. the truth is, you kept having nightmares about your father’s disappointment in you.

you, who married his killer.

you, who gave up fighting and stayed.

you, who married the monster.

you, who shows him compassion when he isn’t compassionate himself.

he would berate you in your dreams and you’d feel awful. you would wake up in tears whispering “i’m sorry” over and over. the lack of sleep was evident on your face and when jungkook finally got to see you after having such a busy schedule, he was very concerned.

bags under your eyes (you haven’t been sleeping), tears staining your flush cheeks (you’ve been crying), your face blotchy (this has been happening for a while), and your body worn (you’re exhausted).

he came to see you on your first official day of being a queen and from what he’s seeing, everyone is running to you with all kinds of information and you’re barely keeping up. no one bothers to ask if you’re okay, just stacking it all on you.

“move quickly, queen y/n! you’re moving too slow”

“ugh, do you even know what you’re doing?”

“great, now the king is going to be upset”

“you can’t do anything right”

“were you even studying? this is easy, queen y/n”

you’re trying, you really are. and when it becomes to much, you snap. “I CAN’T DO THIS!! please, just leave me alone!!” you cry out before running through the council, past jungkook, and back to her bedroom.

jungkook is angry, no, he’s LIVID. not only did he watch everyone insult you but they didn’t even bother to ask whether you in a well enough condition to tend to your duties.

after jungkook is finished cursing everyone out, he knocks gently on the door before entering. he hears your sniffles and the sight is disheartening.

there you are, face down in the pillows crying your head off. “j-jungkook?” you sit up and your face is covered in wet tears. you’re hyperventilating but it’s also the first time you’ve ever called him by his name.

“i…i…i k-keep h-having n-nightmares! he keeps saying it’s my fault! m-my dad. i..i feel so bad. i should’ve fought harder. i can’t s-sleep and i’m-i’m so tired. i just want to s-sleep. pl-please i need you. please don’t leave me here by myself. please stay with me”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms, and he hugs your shaking body, caressing your hair. Mumbling sweet nothings into your ear.

He would deal with those servants later.

“Baby calm down.. oh my God you’re burning.” as soon as your body comes in contact with his, he notices your burning temperature.

“Shh you’ve got to calm down… your father does not exist anymore.. and what happened to him is not your fault. It was never your fault… it’s all just nightmares… baby come on sit down.”

After holding you, for a few minutes, he sits you down, doing the same for him onto your bed, and he grabs your face gently, “do you know that it’s been so many years since my father has left this world, but he still- I still get nightmares about him… he tells me in my nightmares that I should’ve never existed or that youll never love me… o-or how it’s my fault that my mother is dead..”

“I understand you my love.. I really do I’m not trying to make this about myself, but you’re not alone.”

Jungkook presses a gentle kiss on your cheek. Holding so tenderly against him….

[cmaangle]

PERCEPTIONS FROM A DADDY DOM: MY LITTLE, MY HEART - by James Stead

I’ve received more than a few requests for the little companion to Daddy is God… or at Least He Should be. Every dynamic is different, so I will try and paint in broad strokes.

What is a little? In DDlg, a little is at the heart of everything else: submissive. Being submissive can be limited to sex, but in the realm of BDSM, sex isn’t always included. There are non-sexual relationships. A lifestyle submissive versus a bedroom submissive is going to very wildly in how they express their submission, but at the core of who they are, the submissive is consensually obedient and compliant to their partner and is someone that has exchanged part or full control of their daily lives to their Dominant. They crave, need, desire to serve and to be used. They strive to please their Dom in all things, just not sexually. It is not uncommon for a submissive to feel utterly devastated when they perceive a failing or disappoint in their Dominant.

Littles are more than just submissive. Littles also embody the pure childlike youthfulness and innocence of their inner child. They look to their Daddies/Mommies for guidance, leadership and even friendship. They desire to be looked after, cared for, and protected. Some littles age regress. Some littles engage in age play. Some littles do neither. That doesn’t matter. At their core of who they are, they express their truest self with childlike qualities.

Littles should be needy. What? How crazy is that? One of the common worries that you can see a little express is that they’re too needy. To that, I say bullshit. Daddies need your neediness. Through your neediness, you express the need and want for your caregiver. You cannot be too much. It is okay to express it. After a long and hard day, by all means, crawl into your Daddy’s lap and just be. Decompress. Let the worries and stress and fears fade away. What’s that? You think you’re too big for Daddy’s lap? Nonsense. Curl up on the couch or bed and lay your head on his lap. He will play with your hair and let you unwind. You’re home now. You’re safe.

Littles should be expressive. Tell us what you’re feeling. It’s okay to struggle with the words. It’s okay to be non-verbal. You can still relate to us what you’re needing or feeling. Littles, just like Daddies, should be patient and kind. Sometimes, we have a hard time understanding when you reach states on non-verbal expression. Even if we have to turn it into a guessing game, we’ll get to the root of it. Just as much as you want to be cared for, we want to care for you. So tell us. Express yourself how best you can. Tell us about your exciting day. Let us know why you’re sad. Share with your Daddy your inner fears. We’re gonna talk through it. We’ll listen. Your Daddy is going to validate you. And it’s okay to cry. We’ve got tissues, hankies, or you can even soak Daddy’s shirt in your tears. It’s going to be okay.

Littles should be supportive, compassionate and affectionate. Your Daddy needs your help too. Be his safe place. His peace. His happy place. For many Daddies, you are who we will turn to when the world has worn us down. Cuddle him. Lay his head on your lap. Give him all the kisses. You should reciprocate the love your receive from caregiving to your caregiver. Saying thank you goes a long way, showing it goes even further. Use your love languages and show him what he means to you. Through your affection, however you express it, you validate your Daddy.

Good littles include their Daddies in the journeys. A good Daddy is going to want you to show us what you like, are interested in, and what makes you happy. You wanna go on crazy adventures to the zoo or park? So do we! We are just as much invested into your little self as you are and we’re going to support it. Whether it’s helping you achieve your goals or coloring with you in littlespace, we want to be there.

Good littles are good girls. Now, before I get burned at the stake or skewered with a pitchfork, calm down. I’m not saying you can’t be bratty, for those of you that feel the need to brat. That’s not what I’m speaking to. Good littles are good girls. You want to please your Daddy. How you do it is entirely up to you. At the root of DDlg, every little wants their Daddy’s approval. That means there are rules, protocol or structure set in place and those rules are to be followed. The structure that is set in place should always be to support you. To bring your best self out to the forefront. You may not always see it and that’s okay. Your Daddy most certainly does.

DDlg is the most pure, loving and symbiotic lifestyle dynamic I’ve even seen. Both partners need the other so completely and fully to be able to express their true selves and in the expressions of their roles are able to find the fulfillment of their need and love. DDlg is highly individualized and complex when you get into the individual dynamics, but at the end of the day, it boils down to a girl loving her Daddy and a Daddy loving his girl.

[dandelion-eyelashes-sf]

Yeah but you cant use the “you owe ppl shit” when you have unspoken expectations that i never agreed to tf

Like this sucks, when ppl want something of you / from you that you already said and showed you cant give them

Like why tf were we friends then- if u wanted more?????? Just fuckin leave me alone

I still dont think you’re entitled, even tho my friends do

I think youre hurt and sad and angry and think that you are right/correct

Half a year may be long to you but its not to me

And also, we werent besties like that, where i would share deeply about my internal gpings on. You noticed and didnt think: hm, if its not reciprocated, then that means it wont be reciprocated. Instead you kept on probing. Like wtf u think u were gonna find??

I want to be rid of this anger and frustration— literally taking up so much mental space and energy

And it was all so unexpected cuz i thought we were good, i thought we were friends, i thought we were casual

I trusted you to be truthful about that and now youre hurt cuz u lied?

Even if i did think you were entitled, why would that be so bad?

It seems like ur un-happy and unsatisfied with anything i gave, so why tf were u here, then???

I accepted you as the person you are and i tried to accommodate your communication style

But you dont give me the same understanding when i goof and dont answer an invitation, like youre not my only friend and youre not my priority?????????? When did i say you were? When did i show you in my actions that you were????????

It was lopsided cuz you were more available, but when did i agree to be the same level of available? It was lopsided cuz i worked to understand you and accept, and you didnt.

What the fuck did u even like about me if all you wanted was me to do more, give more, reciprocate the ways you were showing attention?????

And then you say you got co-dependent tendencies. Like bro work on that shit and dont make it my problem.

Ive been tryna be compassionate and not dismiss your feeling but when i express mine you get all mad and hurt????

Just not the same and i dont wanna be friends no more. Idk if ur gonna wantto anyway. Which if u dont, then good- it saves us an awkward conversation where u want a friendship and i dont.

God cant do nothin w scorpios tf lol

Ok i think im good i think im ready to release this shit cuz its FUCKING RIDICULOUS

Fuccccck lol how did i end up here? Blind-sighted by this bullshit.

Anyway anyway i release it all (it may come back but itll be less and less each time)

Im frustrated and thats ok cuz it dont make sense

Im angry cuz I ACTUALLY WAS CONSISTENTLY SHOWING WHO AND HOW I AM AND WHAT I WANTED and she ignored that shit

I angry and hurt cuz i thought i had a friend but turns out she wanted more from me

And aint that typical - how do i avoid this situation in the future?

Im sad cuz it was fun while it lasted but not so sad to miss it or want it back

But as i reflect on my other friends who love me and know me and accept me and remind who i am and remind me im loved as i am, i realize that this friendship was never gonna end up at that level

Not with her pining for something that would never come, not with her ignoring my words about being casual, not her ignoring what tf i show her when i wasnt as available as her in any sense off the word, not with her tryna get me to open up and then asking if she makes me anxious and how can she make me more comfortable? Girl pls wake up to reality

The friends I instantly clicked with and the friends who grew into what we are , both types of friendships were borne out of mutual understanding and acceptance of who we are. Safety came from experience and time and showing up for each other/ letting each other in. Idk , you cant force that.

Anyway, this situation sucks but ive made up my mind that im outtie and im not gonna engage with anymore nonsense.

[relationaltherapist]

Conclusion to the Noble Renaissance

Nobility is witnessed in your compassionate exchanges amid prejudice. It is rarely photographed, but you don’t care about that.

Nobility can always be found in you. The rest doesn’t matter anymore; you see reality but you’re focused on heaven coming down, so none of this matters. For you have a tough mind yet a tender heart. An unshakable faith that does not bend, that has an ever-fixed mark outside of circumstance, disappointment, or betrayal.

If you don’t realize He died for you to be dead to your old ways, then peace is at stake. Love is at stake. What Christ died for is at stake. You are noble toward injustice. You take on the hits, the brunt of pain. You stand for those who have no voice. You do not retreat into the shadows or stay silent. You speak with truth that is always laced with kindness. A truth that seeks to ask questions, to understand above your own idiosyncrasies.

Only peace is found in the river of your life, even in a season of pain. You protect your heart in all matters. If the cruel continue to berate you, you still open your arms to them, with a self-respect that doesn’t allow curses to cross your threshold.

You are generous to the core, never weighing the amount you give by what’s in your wallet or what another did, but more by what is in your heart, what is in His wallet.

You are noble in perseverance. Yet you are courageous enough to be honest with people. You let them into the rawness of confusion.

You are noble in integrity. Your integrity surpasses the value of oil. You stand for veracity above all matters. Always understanding that whatever you pour into the world, into another, He has already poured into you. You love Him too much to align with anything else but His Kingdom come. And in this you are eager to see how, in your brave honesty, He will show up. Because your faith is so strong that you know He will show up.

You are noble in humility. Always centered in your voice being heard by Him, you don’t need the entire world to hear it also. You show up every day; come rain, shine, or rejection, you show up. You are so kind to yourself, you never have to run from you. You keep running to Him and in that you run to yourself. Ever able to be confronted with your failings, your mishaps, but knowing your strength never rides on your successes. That’s the beauty of you. Your identity is always centered on how much He loves you.

And in your humility, people feel safe with you. You are approachable enough to share their souls with. Therefore you have the gift of counsel. The gift of vulnerability that always invites more wisdom.

You sacrifice for peace, for love, for your family, for the stranger. Because it’s who you are. Your vision is for the long haul, for the legacy after you. You are highly favored because of how much you sacrifice. You are the most generous and, therefore, the most abundant in gift giving. You do not weigh how much someone should be worth sacrificing for. For it’s all discussed and attributed in the secret place. You give your time, capacity, energy, finances, heart, fears, focus—your all.

You are noble in courage. You are the bravest in the room. Therefore, the most powerful to speak. Others talk of your bravery, your strength, and when they ask for a crate of it from you, you point to the heavens and tell them heaven is waiting to give them courage, if only they would ask. You are a freedom fighter who is motivated by what grieves the Lord. You fight on His behalf, co-laboring yet always taking ownership for every step you take.

You are mighty in prayer, contending incessantly to heal the sick, raise the dead, deliver people from demons, and cleanse the lepers.

You are noble in wisdom. You are full of compassion because you read everyone through Christ’s eyes. You took on the steadfastness of the Word over the ever-changing tides of culture. You care for the individual, the one, and seek God’s wisdom in every case before seeking the counsel of another. You are always teachable. This is how your wounds became your wisdom.

And all these virtues take place because you are a son, a daughter, a child of God. Your kindness is as perennial as the grass because you stay so close to your Father; you thrive most in His arms. His belief in you sustains you in the fiercest storms. It is here that you actually grew up more, that autonomy, faith, courage, courtesy, and wisdom were now easy to carry out because you belong. You are no longer codependent but interdependent with God and all His children. You are at peace with all.

You play often. Sons and daughters of God don’t control, manipulate, or find ways to rid people of free will. Holy Spirit has made you look in the mirror to remind you of who you are. And every time you made a noble move that reflected your original design, you discovered a gem, a dust of gold scattered over a new story line. Oh, how many souls are saved because of your childlike posture. And boy, do you have fun. Forever finding the joy in all.

God has recorded key stories in the Bible to inspire us with nobility because these virtues are already designed, embroidered, and threaded into our beings. You are already noble, for Christ’s crucifixion tells us so. We are poised with a design that lights up when we see His brilliance play out in stories. Because that’s home for us all.

Therefore, don’t disqualify who you are by what you’ve done or the choices you made—for He’s never disappointed. He is ever hopeful for your tomorrow. God gave us free will; He’s waiting for you to choose it. It is time that we as a church started echoing the true gospel, the simple, sovereign gospel…If we could only stop thinking and, therefore, acting through a shame-tinged lens.

He’s so proud, so besotted with you, because you caught His breath. He tells everyone about you. He shouts your name from the rooftops. He sees you coming along the horizon and is desperate to embrace you. He’s that’s beautiful. He’s that sensational. He’s that matchless. Today, He will celebrate you for trying at all.

May your shadows heal, may your tongue speak life, may your soul yearn for His version of justice, may your actions echo your prayers, may your hurts become a romance, may you remember His eternal perspective in all walks of life. May every individual Christian rise up to become a noble army of lovers. An entity that could create a bride worth marrying, a movement that reignites the soul to inspire—a Noble Renaissance.

[inconveniently-discorporated]

"I forgive you."

I love this scene. I really, really love this scene.

I relate a lot to Aziraphale, if you couldn't tell from my page theme. I love his bookshop, his style, his demeanor. I relate to the emotional terrorism from people who should be loving you, protecting you, forgiving you. I relate to loving someone who doesn't see in themselves the things I see in them. I relate to the flaws, saying things I don't mean when I'm hurt or scared, not speaking to someone because I've said my piece and now I feel hurt and I'm not going to say any more.

Their relationship obviously isn't perfect and neither are they. Neither am I, or my relationship, or anyone at all for that matter. I've seen a few different takes on this scene; some people think it's cold and weaponized forgiveness, where other people feel like it's his way of apologizing and saying "I still love you". I personally lean towards the latter.

When Aziraphale is telling Crowley that there is no "our side" and so on, what he's saying is, "This is all incredibly overwhelming and I'm scared and I'm panicking. I'm not ready to abandon everything I've ever known and I'm scared to face what could come after." I can relate to the moment immediately after where he has a look on his face that's basically, "Oh god, this really isn't what I wanted, why did I just do that? How did it escalate to this point?"

Side note: in the script book it's specifically noted that Crowley takes a deep breath as if he's going to keep talking, but then lets it all go with a cool "Right, have a nice doomsday." I like that scene too, even if the line stings. As hurt as he is, that's probably one of the less destructive ways he could've responded.

Back to when Crowley comes back and tries to get the angel to go off with him again, then says "How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?!". This is frankly where most of my disagreements break down into arguments. It's hard to respond to something like that without lashing out yourself, especially if you DID already lash out at that person. It's hard to just stay quiet, or say something neutral and walk away. It's hard to realize that the other person is saying, "I'm frustrated and I'm hurt, and this is how I'm showing it." Especially if neither of you ever had good examples of emotional regulation, or healthy disagreements (like, say, your ineffable mother throws you out the moment you disagree with her, or your perfect holier-than-thou family emotionally/literally beats you into falling in line).

So, I don't personally see someone who is cold. I see a lot of emotion in his eyes when he says it. He's already lashed out earlier, and it didn't do anything except make him feel awful. What I hear when I watch that scene is, "You've hurt me, you've done something that warrants needing forgiveness. But, I see that you're also coming from a place of pain, that's what you're trying to say to me right now. I'm letting you know that we can still come back from this, you're not unforgivable."

It honestly changed the way I approached disagreements, even when communication is starting to break down. I don't LITERALLY say, "I forgive you," because in a real-life argument that's probably a good way to upset someone (it certainly didn't help Crowley in the moment). But I do take a moment to stop before saying something I regret. More than that, I WANT to see the other perspective because I DO care about how they feel and why. I WANT to be compassionate and caring, I WANT the other person to know that I'm willing to step back so we can resolve things in a healthy way for both of us. So, I take the time to try to understand, and communicate that I understand, without being unfair to myself or compromising my own feelings.

No real-life relationship should be directly compared to a fictional one that is written to play out in a very specific way with an ideal ending. However, I do think this scene has inspired me to be closer to the person I want to be. It's something to think about, when I get frustrated and my first instinct is to say something that isn't what I actually mean or feel, it's just a reaction. And it's something to think about when someone else is emotional too.

So, there you go. That's why I love this scene so much. It reminds me to be kind to the people I love, even when they're not perfect. It reminds me to stop before I react, so that I don't say something hurtful to get across my feelings. It reminds me that the goal isn't to win or be the last one talking, the goal is to understand each other, so we can go from feeling at odds and feeling distant, back to doing this...

[iknewyoudunderstand]

omg thanks for understanding! I feel bad because I want to support everyone’s work but sometimes I can’t read it :/ but if you’re taking requests, what about Hotch accidentally walking in on Spencer talking to Penelope about his crush on Hotch?

“I know something you don’t know!”

“Statistically unlikely,” Spencer says, his voice thick from the early morning and the copious sugar in his coffee. “But it’s possible.”

Penelope, a shock of pink on an overall beige day at work, bounces on her toes. Her chunky jewelry clinks and clatters as she jumps around. If his brain wasn’t still sleep-addled, it would be too much for him, but he’s been up all night and his coffee hadn’t kicked in yet and he wasn’t prepared for a conversation so early in the morning. Right now, his senses are coasting on him barely being able to process the stimuli. The sun is barely even up. He has to summon a lot of energy to even make his mouth move.

“What do you know?”

“It’s a secret!”

He sighs. “Garcia, it’s 7:30 and you’re going a million miles an hour. Can you just tell me?”

She stops bouncing, arms dropping to her sides. Something like a scowl, an over-exaggerated imitation of Hotch, settles on her face. “Reid, that’s no fun.”

“Why does it have to be fun?”

“Because I love fun! Everyone knows this—it’s one of my best and most obvious features. Now ask me!”

“Ask you what?”

Penelope lets out a loud, put-upon sigh. “You’re killin’ me, whizz kid.”

“You’re killing me!”

“I would never.”

“What’s the secret?!”

“It’s your secret.” Her eyes flash and her smile turns devilish. “I know who you have a crush on!”

Spencer stops cold. “Garcia, I’m twenty-four. I-I don’t have a crush. I don’t have crushes. I haven’t had crushes since I was thirteen. No adult has crushes—”

“You absolutely have a crush. You’re stuttering, you’re doing that hand thing—” Spencer stuffs his hands in his pockets to stop himself from wringing them. “Uh huh. I’m not a profiler, but I know the signs! You have a crush.”

“So?” His voice cracks so loud he winces. “Listen, it… most adults spend a minimum of 1,680 hours in the office per year.” Penelope scoffs. “Exactly. So there’s not really anyone else for us. It’s very normal to be attracted to people you spend so much of your time with! There was a study in 1968 where college students were shown photos of faces, and some photos were shown up to twenty-five times while others were only shown once or twice, and the most liked faces were those that had been seen more. Prolonged exposure leads to increased attraction, so it’s normal that someone like Hotch would be—”

“You have a crush on Hotch?!”

Spencer throws his arms up. He probably won’t need a second cup of coffee, because he could run a marathon—as long as he is running in the complete opposite direction of this conversation. “Everyone has a crush on Hotch! It’s simple psychology! People are attracted to authority; in evolutionary terms, a person in a position of power is seen as someone with resources and abilities that will create viable offspring—” Garcia’s eyes go wide and Spencer feels like he’s dying. His face is so hot, sweat is beading on his upper lip. “Not that—I’m not saying that, I’m saying that’s where it comes from. It’s an instinctual attraction.”

“Spencer—”

“Plus, plus, I mean, he’s also… I mean, as a person, he’s…” The words are stuck behind his teeth and under his tongue. This is the first time he’s ever said any of this out loud, and these feelings have been rattling around in his head for so long it’s strange to let them out. “There’s obviously more dimension to him than just as an authority figure. He’s intelligent, he’s compassionate, he’s passionate… the intensity created in a work situation can mirror the intensity we experience in sexual relationships, so… oh, God—”

“Reid!” Penelope hisses. She grabs his arm, her fingernails sharp like talons, and stops his train wreck of thought.

“Everyone has a crush on me?” Hotch asks, his eyebrows almost at his hairline. Briefcase in hand, obviously having just walked in, Spencer can’t tell if he’s horrified or amused or concerned or any combination of those because Spencer cannot look at him. Spencer is five seconds away from curling up on the floor and transforming into a pile of confetti, with “IDIOT” inscribed on every shred of paper. Penelope seems to be five seconds away from hyperventilating. “I think that’s a little generous.”

“Hotch, I am so sorry—”

He holds up a hand. Spencer nearly swallows his tongue. Penelope’s nails just might draw blood.

“I’m very flattered,” Hotch says softly. “In the future, there are more appropriate places to have conversations such as these—as I have already told you several times, Garcia.”

“Sorry,” she squeaks.

“In the meantime, everyone will be here shortly; we’re being called in to Oregon for a series of missing children cases.” They lock eyes. As always, it sucks the air right out of his lungs. “If you feel comfortable, Reid, we can discuss this more once we return home.”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah.”

Hotch smiles. It’s small, but the hint of a dimple on his cheek and the crinkling at the corners of his eyes spell out genuine… something. Something genuine. Spencer refuses to let hope bubble up in his chest, just like he refuses every time they brush fingers or shoulders or Hotch looks at him for too long, or when he notices Hotch listening intently to his rambling or laughing at his obscure jokes. He squashes it down every time Hotch shows how much he cares—more than any boss would—and, yes, every time Hotch shows exactly how capable he is, in the field and at containing and responding to all Spencer’s chaos and fragility… that’s just who Hotch is. Everyone has a crush on Hotch because he does that for everyone. Spencer refuses to foster hope—but hope settles in him.

Hotch smiles at him, and then he walks away.

“What just happened?” Spencer asks.

“I think I just got you laid.”

[maxwell-grant]

Might I please ask if you have an opinion of DRACULA? (Either the novel itself or the adaptations); having read both this novel and FRANKENSTEIN, I'm tempted to agree with the reviewer who wrote that one of these is a Classic and the other is actually Fun to read ... (-;

(Art by Cinemamind)

I completely understand the sentiment of "one's a classic and the other's fun to read" and I don't necessarily disagree with it. I don't read Frankenstein for fun, I read it because it's the book closest to me and it's heartbreaking to think about and it's got one of my favorite characters ever in it and it's got a stake in my soul I gotta renew every year. Dracula, however? Dracula is a blast and it boggles the mind as to how every adaptation can be so crushingly lesser in nearly every aspect. My hardcover edition with annotations is one of my most prized possessions.

It's interesting that people tend to talk about Frankenstein and Dracula like Frankenstein was cutting edge sci-fi while Dracula was archaic and folkloric, when it's really the other way around. Frankenstein is the story of an arrogant dipshit rejecting modern science and thinking to unearth outdated knowledge soon blossoming into a vicious cycle of savagery, where as Dracula is the story of an ancient predator adapting and trying to take over current society and fought by a ragtag team of upstanding citizens using modern tactics to stave him off and eventually fight him, desperately struggling to stay ahead of the curve as he wisens to their tactics.

This book was really ahead of it's time in so many ways. I could easily see excerpts of it, particularly the Demeter journals and Renfield's story, taking off as internet creepypastas or found footage horror films. Dracula's a story about a group of characters playing detective as they update their blog entries about the coming of an initially incomprehensible horror taking over their lives. It's a story that could work regardless of Victorian or vampire trappings, and we know this because Blair Witch Project and Marble Hornets are some of the biggest horror successes of the past decades, all of which follow the same general idea, except in Dracula, they don't just discover the true nature of the horror, they also start fighting back and ultimately destroy it.

Dracula's obviously a great villain, that goes without saying. I don't actually tend to take Dracula seriously much of the time because I'm very fond of comedy takes on Dracula and vampires, but that doesn't at all diminish his impact in the original book. He's barely in the novel for much of it which makes his every appearence Count, and the atmosphere as well as the many, many forms he can show up or be suggested at really help solidify what an incredible presence he can be.

He's the strange ruler in a foreign country, he's the kooky old man with weird customs, he's the creepy house owner tormenting a hapless guest, he's a barbarian who lives in nostalgia. He's the wind on your window, a dog on the street, a bat in your windshield, a storm on your ship. He's a predator in every way possible, he's a handsome aristocrat, he's a tragic victim of his own monstrous nature, he's a demon who threatens to consume all mankind, he's the fucker who assaulted your loved one and has to go down hard by machete right now.

Even if we just threw out the 124 years of Dracula's history out, we'd still have enough material in the book not just for a great villain, but dozens of great villains and characters who could take just about any of these traits and run with them. And still, the thing that really, really stuck out to me about Dracula wasn't him, it was the other characters

Art by Kiwi

Dracula's cast is so, so underrated, so unfortunately sidelined as a result of adaptations that only care about The Count and try to give him all the dramatic weight and characterization and sideline all the other characters as merely bit players. Stories that twist Jonathan into a useless fop or an active jerk on the idea that he's the "boring" one, that diminish Renfield's story into just being a hapless and insane goon of Dracula, that make Van Helsing the only character who's even capable of putting up a fight and make him a generic badass, that completely neglect Quincy Morris even though he's great and everyone who discovers him is aghast at discovering "holy shit there's a COWBOY in Dracula?" like yes, there is, and he's incredible and everyone should love him and everyone WOULD love him if only the adaptations remembered he exists.

Adaptations that completely sideline Mina when, and I can't stress this enough, she is the most competent character in the book, one of the greatest pop culture detectives, a wonderful and compassionate and incredibly strong and intelligent character and the main reason why they even managed to win against the Count in the first place, and arguably the closest thing the book even has to a protagonist or hero. I'm not gonna go too into it here but, even putting aside the sheer awfulness of adaptations that try and force a romance between The Count and Mina, seriously fuck off with that, why is it that pretty much every "official" adaptation has had considerably less feminist interpretations of Mina than the source material written in the 1880s? It's a complete travesty (and yes, I'm including LOEG Mina in this, anyone who likes the book and character could have done that concept better)

I enjoy aspects of Dracula adaptations, mostly regarding certain actors's takes on the characters like Bela Lugosi (the only saving grace of that movie, honestly, but rightfully considered the iconic performance), or Peter Cushing as Van Helsing. I very much enjoy the Dracula adaptation Orson Welles did because it at least tried to stay faithful to the book. But regardless of their individual quality, I don't have much to say about Dracula adaptations that try to adapt the book other than "WHY in christ aren't you just sticking to what's in the book? Do you not see how GREAT it is, all the great things about it that are just waiting to be rediscovered and loved by new audiences? STOP WHATEVER IT IS YOU'RE DOING WITH MINA FOR THE LOVE OF GOD-"

So yeah I definitely got thoughts on Dracula. Utterly adore the book but thinking about how much of it's greatness has been lost in the adaptations kinda makes me a little angry. Of course, this doesn't extend to adaptations that tell different stories or just put Dracula into existing stories or reinterpret it. I love Nosferatu and Castlevania Dracula and Hellsing Dracula and Billy & Mandy Dracula and Sesame Street Dracula. Dracula's basically become a sub-category of monster in it's own right and there's no such think as too many monsters, or too many Draculas

I'm very glad that Dracula's public domain because it means not only can he just show up anywhere, but it also means that just about anyone can pen their own Dracula stories. Still, it would be nice if the other great characters of Dracula got brought along for the ride on a couple of those.

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

Taste of a memory

Yelena belova x reader, one shot, mentions of missions during the red room, hopeful ending as usual, what is a pryanik

"Babe, what are you hiding there?"

When you came into the kitchen Yelena frantically hid something in a brown paper bag.

"How was your day, princess?" She tried to change the subject while weirdly holding the bag behind her back.

"You're distracting me?" You laughed and held out a hand, "Come on, babe."

"It's... it's nothing." She shook her head.

You couldn't help but be completely enamoured by this woman. Usually so fierce and strong, protective and confident. Almost a grown up. But now she was like a helpless kid, covering something she was, judging by the eyes... ashamed of.

"Are you sure?" You sounded softer. And your hand that was still hanging in the air gently landed on her shoulder. "Whatever it is, it's fine."

Yelana nodded. You sounded reassuring, you sounded familiar and cozy. And she immediately wanted to lean in your touch.

"It's fine." She echoed.

"You want to spend some time alone?"

Of course you didn't want to let her go. But it's how it worked with Yelena. Sometimes you had to let her reflect on the situation and make her own conclusions. You were the same. Of course later you would talk. Except once. You never talked about her sister's death. With this she wasn't ready to open up yet.

You let her leave the room. But before that made sure to touch the bare skin of her arm. Burn it, remind her she wasn't alone.

She was quiet for the rest of the day and the next day and the day after. You were there for her. Surrounding with attention, hugging with love, reassuring with affection.

You remembered how you sucked at it at first. Being in a relationship. In fact you both sucked. But she needed you more and in time you found that in yourself. You were the one who showed her how to resolve conflicts and stop when needed. But Yelena was the one who had to work harder, overcoming her insecurities.

You were ready for her reaction to whatever happened between you two, but you didn't want to, you hoped that those days were long gone.

In a week Yelena came to you herself. You had a stressful day with the marketing report you had to present. And when you came home you just poured yourself some whiskey and mindlessly were watching something on hbo max. It didn't help that you had a headache.

She sat near you and took your glass. "One of those days, princess?"

"Unfortunately."

She moved closer. She was ready. You placed your head on her lap and allowed her to massage your temples.

You were hesitant, you couldn't relax.

"Something's wrong?" Of course she noticed that you still were tense. Usually it took you just a few minutes to let go of everything.

"No, migraine is just stronger this time."

"You're an awful liar, princess".

You squinted. "Is it a bad thing?"

"No," She sighed. "Not really. I appreciate that we're being honest with each other. It's about what happened in the kitchen?"

"Babe, if you don't want to talk, I understand." You tried to stand up but Yelena didn't let you.

"I know. Tomorrow. I promise." She kissed your forehead.

You didn't sleep well that night. Subconsciously trying to get closer to your woman. Yelena didn't sleep at all.

When you woke up she was already gone. But when you returned from work she was at home.

You saw the same brown paper back on the kitchen table.

"Привет (hey)." Yelena greeted you. But she sounded different. Colder. "How's your migraine?"

"Thanks, it's a..." You couldn't stop staring at the bag. "It's fine."

"Curious?"

"Nope, if you think I shouldn't be." Weak attempt at a joke. But Yelena appreciated that. It was hard to keep her distance with you if you were trying to break the ice.

"Come here." You obliged. Once you were within her reach, she caught in a hug. "Promise me, nothing between us will change."

"Promise, babe."

Yelena looked right into your eyes. You weren't lying. You simply couldn't. You didn't know how to. She let you sit while she remained standing.

"I told you about my upbringing. Мои корни (my roots). My purpose." She heard your sigh and corrected herself. "My previous purpose. Previous life."

"Yes."

"Well, I never told you about my first mission. When I was 12. I had to go undercover to gather intelligence."

"Who could you possibly be when you're only 12."

"I was supposed to get certain documents from an engineer. And his wife often helped homeless children. It was just 10 years after the Soviet Union collapsed. And in Russia itself not everything was alright. Especially in further regions. For example in Tula."

"You were supposed to be one of the homeless kids god knows where?" You heard stories like this before from her. But when you're only 12? You couldn't believe it.

"Yeah. I had to take advantage of a good hearted woman. Get into her house. And steal the documents. Standard operation for a widow this age." She stopped for a second recalling details of that assignment. Her torn clothes, smell of dirt she had in her face, hunger in the eyes of the other kids. "But during those missions a certain approach had to be used. Chemical control had to be reduced for a child to have a more authentic behaviour. On such cases the Res room relied on propaganda they still were using on young agents."

You tried to remain stoic. But your eyes were already tearful.

"Oh, princess." Yelena brushed them away with her thumbs. "No need for that. It was such a long time ago. Don't weep for my past. Anyway, I succeeded, she noticed me. Every day I was with the kids, but every night I was back at the base. It wasn't that bad. And in time that compassionate woman let me into her house. She allowed me to eat there and get warm. She learned my name, my backstory. And with the mind controlling not being there I felt something for her. Then I didn't know what it was. But now I know it was love and gratitude."

Yelena stared for a few minutes blankly. Feeling those sensations long forgotten. Feeling the hope she had to stay in that family.

"But I was programmed. I was serving. I had no other choice. And in a few months I found the documents. When the family wasn't at home, I broke into the apartment and stole them. But on my way to the car, that woman saw me. She saw their folder. She understood. And that was the first time I've seen the exact moment I've destroyed a person. Not physically, sure. But she thought of me as a daughter, as a member of the family. But that's not all."

She leaned to you for a kiss. Cold, detached, calculated.

"I fucked up on my first mission. Of course I was punished. But I didn't care. With the chemical I only cared about the less than stellar result. And in a few years I accidently discovered that the red room killed her, because she saw my face. I... of course now I repent. But what's the use of that. She is just one of many."

"It was never your fault."

"It's complicated. You know that better than anyone. And that feeling that I understand now, it even had a taste and a smell then. Cause Людмила (Lyudmila) was giving me a certain thing that Tula was famous for." She gestured to the bag. "Пряник (pryanik)"

You opened it. And there it was. Made from flour and honey. Sweet and aromatic.

"I buy myself one once a year. To..." She shrugged. "I don't even know why. Maybe to get that childish feeling of hope back. Is it weird?"

"No, of course not."

"Yeah, I guess." She muttered to herself.

"It is not weird. I understand. I mean. I think I do. It's normal to try to relive memories.' You stood up and poured yourself some water.

"Very bitter sweet ones. But you know. Now it's easier for me. With you and Fanny....'' Yelena almost had a shadow of a smile. "Try it."

"Sure." You took a bite of this pryanik. "Well, it's really sweet."

"It's supposed to be, princess." She sounded playfully annoyed. "Appreciate it."

"I do. And you know, I guess I can cook it for you." You said carefully.

"Well, that definitely makes the sensation far less bitter. Promise?"

"Promise."

Of course it wasn't the end of the conversation. You were returning to this topic time and time again. Working it through, searching for an answer. At times it was ugly, at times it was tearful, at times annoying. But you were ready for that,both of you. Oh, and you kept your promise. You learned to bake for her.

[dothwrites]

15.19--freedom

“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose/Nothing, don’t mean nothing if it ain’t free, no, no”--Janis Joplin

---

Freedom. 

Dean rolls the word around on the tip of his tongue and tastes how it feels. Freedom. 

It’s a strange concept, especially since he always assumed that he was. Ever since Apocalypse Version 1.0 was averted, Michael and Lucifer locked in the cage, thanks very much, he’s always assumed that he was the one calling the shots. No matter how badly he fucked up (and he fucked up a lot), he could at least take comfort in the fact that those were his choices. No one’s hand up Dean Winchester’s ass, no siree. 

And then Chuck came and ripped that certainty away from him in one quick motion and then...everything was suspect. Sam, Mom, Jack...Cas. Every word, every action, every emotion... He couldn’t trust anything, so he trusted nothing.

He still wakes up from nightmares with those words echoing in his head: You’re dead to me. He bolts upright, almost puking, because he can’t believe his past self, he can’t believe that those words came out of his mouth, to Cas, to Cas of all people--

He splashes water on his face and notices that his hand is shaking. His stomach churns in warning, but he doesn’t think he’s going to puke. However, he also doesn’t think he’s going back to sleep tonight. 

He and Sam are in the bunker, but he knows they won’t stay. It’s too empty now, their voices echoing through the halls and rooms. Maybe once, he would have been all right with that, would have even enjoyed it, but now, he can’t bear it. He remembers all too well how it felt to have Jack’s voice bouncing through the kitchen as he talked about the latest movie they had watched, or how it felt to just feel Cas behind him as he moved through the kitchen. 

Every time he makes his breakfast, he’s reminded of what he lost. Every time he and Sam come back to the bunker, there’s the sinking disappointment to find themselves alone once more. Dean ends up spending most of his days in his room because anywhere else freaks him out. He can’t stop whipping his head to look over his shoulder, halfway convinced that he’ll find someone standing behind him. He’s always disappointed when he finds himself alone. 

He and Sam are going to leave the bunker behind. He doesn’t know when and he doesn’t know what for, but he knows that it’s going to happen. 

He asks Sam one afternoon why he hasn’t left yet. Eileen is waiting for him, biding her time a hell of a lot more patiently than Dean would, and Sam still isn’t going to her and starting the American dream life. And one afternoon, Dean either runs out of fucks and gathers up his last little shreds of courage, and asks him. 

“So when are you going to move in with Eileen? I can’t imagine that she’s going to wait for your gigantor ass forever.” 

Sam looks at him from across the table. There’s a book open in front of him, but Dean doesn’t think that he’s read a word. He knows that he’s been stuck on the same screen on his phone for several minutes. Without the pressing urgency of saving the world, things just seem so...pointless. Which is not necessarily bad. But it means that he and Sam spend a lot of slow, lingering afternoons like this, with just the two of them wandering through the bunker and occasionally bouncing off of each other like two very faulty pinballs stuck in a malfunctioning machine. 

“She’s fine,” Sam says, which isn’t an answer. “She understands what’s happening.” 

Dean’s glad that someone understands because he surely has no fucking clue.

---

His life falls into a kind of routine. Wake up, make breakfast. Find pointless chores to do around the bunker. Make lunch. Watch some bullshit shows on TV. Make dinner. Have a beer. Fall asleep. 

He feels like the worst kind of retiree, devoid of purpose. 

Sure, there are occasional hunts, but he doesn’t feel the need to go on them. The world is turning, same as it always did, and there are other hunters in the world. If that’s one thing that he learned through these past years, it’s that he doesn’t have to do everything. 

(Plus, he and Sam literally defeated God, so he thinks they deserve some time off.)

The forced retirement doesn’t make him happy. The bunker is the cleanest that it’s ever been and he doesn’t feel happy about it. There’s a gaping hole in his chest that’s shaped like the rest of his family, and he can’t sleep at night. He makes dinner and all he can think about are the empty places at the table. 

Sam sticks his head into Dean’s room. It’s a regular day, though Dean doesn’t bother to note either the actual date or the day of the week anymore. Time blends together in an endless cycle of waking, chores, and sleeping, because without a purpose to hold him together, he’s slowly falling apart. 

“I’m going to head out,” Sam says. Dean notices that he doesn’t put a timeline on his departure. “You should get out too.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows but doesn’t ask the obvious question: Where would he go? Sam, slightly chagrined, scuffs his feet against the floor. “Maybe go see Jody, Donna, and the girls? See if Charlie and Stevie want a third on their hunt? Bobby said something about building up his library here.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, with absolutely no intention of following through on any of those suggestions. He’s not quite wallowing in his own grief and filth (every time he tries to crawl back into a bottle, he just remembers the pinched look at the corners of Cas’ eyes whenever he would find Dean halfway through a bender, and that memory effectively nixes any desire he might have had to crawl into the nearest bottle), but he’s not exactly the poster boy for healthy coping strategies either. 

“Dean.” 

Dean hates that note in Sam’s voice, the oh-so-soft and sensitive tone that could soothe widows and lull children. He hates even more that it’s being turned on him, hates most of all that he derives comfort from it. 

“I don’t get it,” Dean finally says, because if Sam is leaving then he might be losing his chance to ask his question aloud. “I don’t get...I mean, Jack could have brought him back. He could have done it. I could have asked him. I was right fucking there, and I didn’t ask.” 

He’s dissected those moments in his head until there’s nothing left, and he’s forced to cobble them back together like some Frankenstein of memories just so he can take them apart all over again. Why didn’t he ask Jack to bring Cas back? Why didn’t Jack do it of his own free will? Jack knew how he much he needed Cas; hell, Jack brought him back once before when he wasn’t God. So why couldn’t he do it then, when Dean needed him the most? 

“I don’t know,” Sam says, still in that same soft voice. “Maybe...maybe it was like Mom? I mean, Cas made his choice. For better or worse, he made it, and maybe Jack thinks that we need to respect it?” 

A thick lump rises in his throat. Cas’ face replays in his nightmares, tear-stricken and yet smiling, peace and grief shining in his eyes. I love you. Like it was the easiest thing in the world to say at that moment. Like it was all he’d ever wanted to say. 

“I never...” Dean swallows, but he doesn’t manage to chase away the horrid feeling rising in his chest. “I never said it back to him, Sam. I never...all those times he said it to us, and I never...he died, thinking that no one loved him. The one thing I want, I know I can’t have, is what he said to me.” 

Dean doesn’t necessarily have a list of his regrets (there are too many to really list), but if he did, then he knows this would be at the top of it. Cas sacrificed himself, Cas let himself get taken, Cas died, and all to save someone who he believed didn’t love him back. 

How could he not know? 

Dean knows he’s not necessarily Mr. Subtle; he knows Sam knows. Their enemies damn sure have seemed to figure out through the years exactly where Dean’s heart lies. How could Cas, as brilliant as he was, as insightful, as compassionate as he was, not understand that Dean’s been lost on him, quite possible since the first time he walked through those barn doors? 

Sam’s face goes on a journey and it ends up at about the same place that Dean feels. Maybe now Sam understands why it’s so much effort for him to just make it out of his room. 

“He thought it was worth it,” Sam finally says. “Even if he thought...At the end, it was still worth it to him.” 

You were still worth it, is left unsaid, but Dean hears the echo nonetheless. There’s an accusation there which he doesn’t want to confront, but he has to nonetheless. 

“I can’t stay here anymore,” Sam finally says. “I can’t...” When he looks at Dean, his eyes are glistening. There’s a plea for understanding in his face. “There’s a whole world out there that I haven’t gotten to see since...since Stanford really. Since ever. I can finally go out there and walk around and not worry that something’s going to come after me. I can finally...” Sam rubs a corner of his shirt between his fingers. “You always said that I wanted a normal life, and I did, for a while. Then, when I figured that it was never going to happen, I stopped myself from wanting it, because what was the point? When everything we had got ripped away from us, what was the point of anything? But now...” 

“If you start now, then you can probably make Des Moines by night,” Dean offers. It’s all he can say, but it’s enough. 

Sam smiles, his eyes glassy. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

It’s not a goodbye, but it is. It’s the bonds of desperation and codependency snapping and shattering and reforming into something else. Dean doesn’t know how to love his brother in this new world. All he knows is that Sam deserves to live the life he’s deserved. 

Dean closes his eyes. 

When he opens them, Sam is gone.

---

That night, he goes up on the roof of the bunker. It’s cold, but not unbearable. There’s a light drizzle falling which strengthens to a gentle shower the longer he stays outside. 

Dean closes his eyes and looks up at the sky. Out here, the stars shine clearer than ever before, visible even through the rainclouds. 

He can’t help but think of Jack. His son. He can say those words now, acknowledge that Jack gave him everything he really wanted; the chance at a family, the chance to erase some of his father’s sins. Jack was gentle, he was kind, he was loving, he was theirs. And then he was gone. 

Cas, Jack, Sam...

“What am I supposed to do?” Dean asks the rain, the same wild pain rising up in his throat. “What am I supposed to do now?” 

---

He makes it back inside, damp and cold, and strips himself. He should shower, but he can’t be bothered, so he falls into bed naked and shivering. Not like it matters; no one is around to see him anyway. He falls into a fitful doze and is only awakened hours later by the soft sounds of someone moving around his room. 

He bolts upright, snatching his gun out from underneath his pillow, because old habits die never. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes as his heartbeat catches up with his adrenaline. “Sam?” he asks, and then, more tentatively, “Jack?” 

His desk lamp blazes into the life with a soft snap. Dean’s heart leaps into his throat. 

Cas smiles at him, the same as always, sadness always lurking in his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. Dean finally understands why he looks that way. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says. The sound of his voice sends shivers down Dean’s spine, but the hair on his arms doesn’t rise. Dean understands then. 

“This is a dream.” He lowers the gun. His heart slows to normal and disappointment is bitter in his mouth. “You’re not really here.” 

Cas’ mouth lifts in a lopsided smile. “It’s as real as you make it.” 

“Don’t fucking Dumbledore me,” Dean mutters. He rubs at his temples. Somehow, even lucid dreaming has lost its appeal. Talking to Cas isn’t appealing when he knows that he’s just talking to his own subconscious. 

“I fail to see what a fictional wizard of questionable sexuality has to do with this.” 

“Good to know that my subconscious has your sense of humor down.” Dean glares at Cas. “Why the fuck are you here, anyway? It’s a dick move, even for my brain.” 

“Maybe because I’m the person you want to see? I don’t know. It’s your head, not mine.”

“Yeah. No offense, but I think I’m just going to go back to sleep. Or wake up. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I don’t need to see you anymore. It’s just...It really hurts, all right?” 

“I’m not real, so you’re not really hurting my feelings.” 

“Good. Well, now that we have that sorted out.” Dean punches his pillow as a punishment for betraying him, before he turns back to Cas. “I miss you,” he says, because he’s weak and always has been. 

“Dean.” The sound of Cas’ voice always manages to make Dean stop and now is no different. He turns around and looks at Cas. 

Somehow, Cas looks more solid around the edges. The lines around his eyes are more pronounced, and if Dean turns his head at just the right angle, he thinks he can see grey silvering at Cas’ temple. 

“Sam was right,” Cas says. “I made a choice. That’s what this was all about, ever since the beginning. Making choices, running our own course, picking our own path.” 

“Yeah, thanks for rubbing it in,” Dean mutters. The last thing he needs is his subconscious reminding him that once again, Cas decided that he wasn’t good enough to stay with. 

“But that doesn’t mean that you can’t make a choice as well,” Cas continues, ignoring him. “There’s nothing to stop you. You can make whatever choices you want and take the consequences that come with them. And if you make the right choices, then maybe...” Cas bites his lip, looking almost nervous. “Then maybe I can make some choices too.” 

Dean opens his mouth to argue--Cas is dead, the time for making decisions has come and gone--but his subconscious is a dick, and before he can say anything, his dream fades away in a wash of black. 

---

Dean wakes up energized. His eyes open into the same room, but it’s different somehow. It’s ridiculous, because the bunker is underground, but it’s almost like he sees the sun shining through his windows. Even the air tastes different. For the first time in weeks, he gets out of bed without dreading every step away from his mattress. 

He glances at his phone. There’s a message from Sam along with a picture. In it, Eileen and Sam smile at the camera, their heads pressed together at the temple. There’s still a shadow of sadness in their eyes--they’ve all lost too much to be truly carefree ever again--but they look good. Happy. Whole. 

Cas’ words echo back at him, both from the dream and from those last, horrible, terrifying moments. 

Everything you did, you did for love. 

You can make a choice. 

Dean starts towards the library. 

---

It takes him three weeks of almost non-stop research to cobble together enough spells to make something that has the potential to work. This isn’t his strength; Sam is much more suited for this type of work, but he won’t bring Sam in on this. If this thing goes really damn badly, then it has the potential to wipe him off the face of the earth, goodbye Dean Winchester. If this thing does what he’s halfway expecting it to, which is nothing, then he’ll have gotten Sam’s hopes up for nothing. He’s not going to expose Sam to either danger or disappointment, not when Sam’s finally managed to get to some kind of happiness. 

If everything goes well...

Dean won’t let himself think about that. 

He spends two days smoothing out the kinks in the spell, double and triple checking his translations. He gathers his ingredients, and then spends another hour pacing around the library. His stomach is roiling, and his nerves are jittery. He can’t bear to stop, but he can’t bear to move forward. 

The memory of Cas’ smile spurs him into action. Cas went to his death a willing martyr for a man who he believed didn’t love him back. He can’t let that stand. If anything else, Cas has to know. 

The drive to Pontiac, Illinois takes him the better part of a day. The impala springs forward across the asphalt, almost like she’s eager to eat up the miles after her forced retirement. Dean pushes hard down on the gas pedal, urging her forward. One way or another, this is going to come to an end tonight. 

It takes him a while to find the barn. The last time he was here, he wasn’t in his right mind, still reeling from the horrors of Hell and the confusion of finding himself alive. He’d been scared and angry, lost and so very alone. And then an angel had walked through the door and told him that good things happened, that he deserved to be saved. The last little bit might have been a line fed to Cas by a bunch of dickhead superiors, but the sentiment behind it had stayed long after those superiors were all dead. 

They replaced the doors which Cas shattered and painted over the walls which Dean and Bobby covered with sigils, but if Dean looks carefully, he can see the shadows of them behind the new coat of whitewash. He touches them gently for a second, remembering Bobby and all of the years which led him back to this place. Then he pulls out his can of spray paint and proceeds to deface the barn all over again. 

When he’s done, he sets up the ingredients on the table. The table is where it was all those years ago, facing the doors to the barn. He doesn’t quite believe that Cas is going to pull the same trick, storming through the doors in a shower of sparks, but he can always hope. 

“God...Jack,” Dean corrects himself with a wry twist of his mouth, “I really hope this works. Cas, wherever you are, I really hope you have your ears on.” 

Dean looks at his translations and begins to speak. He’s hoping that intention counts for something as his tongue stumbles over the unfamiliar words. His heart beats an uncertain pulse in his chest. This has to work. It has to work. 

He puts every ounce of belief into his voice, every bit of the faith Cas once accused him of not having. I have faith, he thinks, putting force behind his voice, sending his words rocketing into the dimensions. I believe in us. 

What’s real? 

We are.

The last syllables roll over his tongue, followed immediately by a peal of thunder. The barn shivers, a ripple rolling through the air to settle over Dean’s skin. Electricity crackles in the air, filling him with potential. 

“Castiel?” he calls to the darkness. “Cas?” 

There’s no answer, but the spells and research had been unclear on whether or not there should be an answer. He would prefer knowing that Cas was listening, but in absence of certainty, he’ll have to have faith. 

“Cas, I really hope you can hear me,” he says. The words bring back the memories of Purgatory and a time when he and Cas could barely look at each other. He pushes those memories away and concentrates on the truth he can feel in his heart, the same truth which has guided him through the years and all the way from Lebanon, Kansas to the small barn where it all began all those years ago. 

“I know you made your choice. I know you were happy. But...it’s not the same without you. I’m not the same without you. I wake up and think about you, and you’re the last thing I think about before I go to sleep at night. Every moment, you’re there because you’re not there. I look at all the places you’re missing and I can’t help but think that everything would be better if you were there.”

Dean swallows. “I miss you,” he confesses to the night. “Cas, I miss you so much. And I want you to come back. Not because I need you or because there’s something to fight against, but just because I miss you and life is better when you’re around.” He thinks of what Sam told him before he went. “There’s a new world out there, and I can’t think of who I would rather explore it with than you, but in order to do that, you’ve got to make a choice, all right?” 

His heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might explode out of his chest. “I want to share my life with you. I want to figure out this world together. I want to be able to look at you and hold you and experience everything with you. Cas, I want to tell you what I should have told you every single day for years. I’m sorry that I never told you while you were with me. And I’m sorry that the first time I say it, I’m not going to be looking at you, but it wouldn’t be our lives if something about this wasn’t shitty, right?” 

Dean takes a deep breath. “I love you, Cas. Not because of what you can do or how useful you are. I love you because of who you are and how hard you try. And I want to say it to you, every single day, for years to come. I’ve made my choice, Cas. Now you just need to make yours.” 

Silence overtakes the barn. The only sound is the faint whistling of the wind through the slats of the barn and the quick rasp of his breathing. There’s no flap of wings, no deep voice growling in his ears, no pop of electricity. 

“Please, Cas,” Dean whispers, closing his eyes to try and stop the burning behind them. “Please.” 

Thunder rolls through the barn, shaking through the wood down to the dirt floor. Dean’s head jerks upright as he scans the barn. “Cas?” he calls, hardly daring to hope. “Castiel?” 

A thin, golden thread rips open in the air before him. It looks almost exactly like the rifts between worlds which Jack used to create, but that’s not possible. 

It’s not possible, but Dean dares to hope anyway. 

“Castiel? Cas?” 

A single hand reaches out through the golden tear, and then Dean is moving, he’s practically tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach the rift. “Cas, Cas, please,” he’s saying, not quite aware of the words which are tumbling from his mouth. “Please.” 

Until his fingers grip the hand, he’s not sure that it’s real, but that’s solid flesh and bone underneath his palm. Dean pulls, feeling resistance on the other end. “No,” he grunts, reaching into the rift. His hand touches skin, and his resolve grows. He didn’t come this far only to lose. They haven’t come this far only to fall apart. 

“I want you,” he says, as though the force of his words can rip through the veil. “Cas, please, come home, Cas, please--” 

With an almighty heave, he pulls once more and then he’s falling backward, another body tumbling against his in an ungainly pile of limbs and bodies. There’s skin and there’s warm, and there’s weight. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees the rift close up, as neatly as if it were never there at all. 

He doesn’t care about that. He can’t, not now. 

Dean looks down at the body sprawled across his lap. There are miles upon miles of naked skin for him to peruse, and he hopes that he’ll be able to do so later at his leisure, but for now, all he can concentrate on are those two luminous eyes blinking up at him. 

“Cas?” Dean asks, hardly daring to believe. His hands cup Castiel’s face, fingers sweeping a few locks of dark hair off of his forehead. 

Castiel blinks at him, his dark eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. A slow smile creeps across his face, like the dawn spreading across the horizon. “Dean,” he says, his voice the same as it always was, but this time it’s better, because it’s a voice that Dean never thought he’d hear again. 

“Cas.” It’s the only word Dean seems capable of saying, but words don’t seem important anymore, not when he can lean forward and press his lips to Cas’, not when he can taste the small sigh of surprise on Cas’ lips. “Cas, I missed you so much, oh god, Cas, there’s so much I want to tell you, there’s so much I want to do--” 

Cas interrupts him with another kiss, his arms threading around Dean’s shoulders to pull him closer. Gentle fingers tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, and Dean thinks that he could live in this moment forever. 

But before he does that, there’s something else which needs to happen first. Dean pulls away, ignoring the small whine of protest from Cas. 

“Cas, there’s something I need to tell you,” he starts, only to be interrupted. 

“I know,” Cas says, his face splitting into a wide, gummy smile. No shadow lurks behind his eyes, no hint of tears glisten in his eyes. There’s just happiness, radiant and absolute, gleaming from his face. 

“I heard your prayer.” 

Maybe once upon a time, Dean would have been satisfied with that answer, but not anymore. 

“I love you,” Dean whispers, pressing the words into Cas’ skin with gentle kisses over his temple and cheeks. “I love you, I love you, I love you, and I’m going to tell you every day until you get sick of it.” 

“You’ll have to try for a very long time,” Castiel answers, his fingers tracing along Dean’s jaw. “I like hearing those words very much.” 

Dean can’t help but kiss him again. As he does so, he feels the lost and scattered pieces of his heart knitting back together until he can finally breathe for the first time in months. “Come on,” he says, once he surfaces for air. “Let’s go.” 

It only hits him then that Cas is naked. Apparently rebirth and snagging people out of alternate dimensions results in a distinct lack of clothing. Dean’s eyes want to travel over the skin revealed to him, but he waits. There will be time, he realizes with a tiny thrill of delight. He and Cas have all the time in the world.

He manages to find a blanket to wrap around Cas’ shoulders. It will do until they get out to the car where he has a spare set of clothes. For now, he helps Cas to his feet. Cas looks around him, his eyes wide and huge, as though he’s overwhelmed with the world around him. 

“Where are we headed?” Cas asks as they head towards the door. The Impala waits outside, beckoning them forward once more. 

Dean grins as the cool night air washes over them. It’s gentle and soft, eternity held in the breeze. There’s a world held within the palm of tonight, a world held within the rest of their lives. 

“Wherever we want,” he answers, stepping out of the shadow of the barn and into the world. 

As they walk towards the Impala, a light rain begins to fall. 

---

“Before, I wanted to say: "I found love!" But now, I want to say: "I found a person. And he belongs to me and I belong to him.”― C. JoyBell C.