#Ive been feeling better physically! Taking it pretty easy still which is why these are just super simple sketches of such a simple characte

[sketchy-tour]

Found a lil bit of energy to doodle! Watched the new episode of TADC and now have grown VERY attached to Gangle she is definitely my favorite of the cast!

Take these very low effort and messy doodles I did of her after watching the new ep!

[ask-squip-official]

Hi squip! this is kind if personal, and it might be hard to answer so you dont have to respond, i totally get it.

I've been in this romantic relationship for almost 3 years now, and i really love this person, but sometimes i feel subpar with our relationship. they treat me like a glorified friend, and only really seem interested in being romantic when we are alone, and when we are being romantic, they take it too far, and i've told them that it makes me uncomfortable but they continue to do it. they yell quite a bit, and enjoy trying to start arguments, claiming that they like "debating" but they never treat it as a friendly debate, it ends up being them interrupting me and shouting about their opinions. whenever we are in public they refuse to show physical affection, and i totally understand them not enjoying PDA, but they wont tell me their boundaries, or anything that they dislike, they just act disgusted when i try to show them affection. they also, despite hardly accepting hugs from me, will hug their friends whenever, and have literally ran to hug one of them, even though they would never do this for me.

something i have a little less issue with, but has reached the point that it upsets me, is theyre really into this one actor. like, they constantly talk about him, and how much he loves them, which is fine, i have some celebrity/fictional crushes, but they care about this celebrity actor WAY more than they care about me. they constantly make jokes about how theyre "gay" and how they kiss boys, which was again, funny at first, but at a certain point i asked them to stop, and yet they continue to do it.

theyre pretty narcissistic and manipulative, but i wont go into too much detail about these things since it would only be describing the words. but this relationship feels familiar to me, ive dumped so much of my time, and effort into this relationship, and i dont want to lose it. And, there are still times i really enjoy being their partner. like, almost every night we get in call, and we watch shows and youtube videos, and then we do karaoke together, theyve been with me through some of the worst times of my life, but they dont treat me like a lover unless its in private, and its only for that one fleeting moment that i truly feel wanted by them in a romantic sense.

i've attempted to talk to them about these issues, and theyve promised to change, and do better, and every time the treat me so kindly for a few days. i want to believe they'll change, and that things will get better, but i feel so lost. they make me a terrible person, theyve ruined me. i dont know who i am without them. ive lost all of my personality to them. im constantly thinking about what would make them happy, or need me as much as i need them. i come from a really bad background, and i know thats probably why im putting up with this, but part of me is clinging to the idea that they'll get better. its easy having somebody to turn to when things go wrong, theyre comforting in the best and worst ways, and i want to believe that they just dont understand what theyre doing to me.

the worst part is theyre family is so kind. theyre supportive of our relationship(we're a queer relationship, theyre transmasc, but i think their parents consider us lesbians? i dint think they understand fully, but theyre supportive of this person being trans as well), and they love me. i want to understand why they act and think the way they do, but i can't.

there's other small things that add up every day. like, not accepting small gifts from me because theyre not interested in it, even though its something really meaningful to me(for example crystals, bracelets, little gift boxes). but they accept these things from their friends. they get kind of pissy with me easily, especially if we have a class together. they dont want to go on dates with me because they dont like swimming, or they don't like sweating, or they dont want to walk somewhere, or etc. we've been dating for 3 years, and we haven't gone on a single date. and they just dont pay attention to me. they fight with me about *everything*, they never see my side of things. i feel selfish and petty asking these things from them because it feels like a lot, but to me it feels like things i would do for them.

i truly dont know what to do, i want to leave, but being without them hurts more than staying with them. it feels lonely without them, and it feels lonelier with them. i dont feel loved, but i dont want to lose what i have with them. i feel alone and lost and scared. i dont know what to do.

im sorry if thats a lot or you dont want to answer.

-🍄

This is a very personal ask, and I am honoured that you trust my algorithm with such a thing.

Now, while inhabiting hosts before Jeremy in beta testing, I have been in similar situations. Ones where you feel as though you are a “third wheel” in your own relationship. While you can love someone, it is possible that they do not love you the same way and are unwilling to admit it to you- or to themselves.

This is not your fault. Human feelings are ever-shifting, and what someone feels can change with or without your involvement. From your assessment, I would guess that your partner is not willing to prioritize you in your relationship. Whether this is because of a busy schedule or personal issues, I am not sure. But it is clear that they are not putting aside time for you or listening to your needs. A host that I inhabited in beta-testing had a similar issue. However- because my system was still developing- I advised them to continue to pursue the relationship. Eventually, the person they were still deeply in love with broke up with them first over text. I cannot advise ending this relationship without access to all data. However, it is my suggestion that you invite your partner to seriously reevaluate how they are treating you. If they ultimately refuse to make changes for your sake, they are not a worthy life partner.

As humans say, “When people tell you who they are, listen.” The way he is treating you is not evocative of someone who is willing to love you correctly.

Something that may help as well is building up other sources of happiness in your life. I would recommend considering what brings you actual joy in your life, not just what feels safe. Put yourself into situations where you are doing activities and meeting others who share your interests. Build joy from within, and you will not have to rely on “safe” people who slowly destroy you from the inside.

[babesonly]

fic recs 2.0!

hello kings (gn) ive got significantly more fic than last time which means this is gonna be a little more organized than the last post bc it is much longer <3 categories in order are non casefic canonverse, casefic/roadtrip fic, finale fixits, endverse, non supernatural aus, and then non destiel ones. titles will be in bold for my favs! also within each category they’re in order from shortest to longest

Canonverse

I’m a tulip in a cup by godtiering (1.2k)

I worry that I never really came back from hell. I wonder why, if I got remade by heaven, I’m still the same screwed up kid that I always was.

Sometimes I worry I’m not into women at all.

"Guess not,” he looks at his shoes.

a REALLY good fic that’s basically just a look inside dean’s head during my bloody valentine do not read this looking for a fun time but please do read it

on vessels by flightsofangels (1.9k)

“You know,” Cas mutters into Dean’s bare skin. “When I was still… an angel, I used to dream that I would take you as my vessel.”

hello consumehimnatural fans!!!!! read newt’s fic right now its incredible

dean winchester is not a nicholas sparks protagonist by microcomets (1.9k)

Dean fell in love with Cas the way you fall asleep--slowly, and then all at once. Or some other hackneyed and trite bullshit. God, this is embarrassing.

dean is in LOVE. he’s also a disaster who keeps staring at cas’ hands. sigh

Stay by aeli_kindara (2.5k)

Coda to 13.06 (Tombstone). In which Castiel reckons with the aftermath of Dean's grief.

hello fellow widow arc fans <3 click here to see cas find out abt the events of advanced thanatology !

walking on a string by swordfishtrombones (2.7k)

Between the doomed offensive at the Firmament and the impending retreat from the ravaged northeast border, Castiel left camp long enough to answer one of Dean Winchester's prayers.

S6 DEAN IS A WAR WIFE. been really into early seasons deancas lately and this one is very good. god

the flesh of the mighty by Mudprophet (2.7k)

Ezekiel 39:17 "you shall eat the flesh of the mighty and drink the blood of the princes of the earth."

MY GOD. anyone who saw the @autisticandroids​ purgatory cannibalism talk and was interested read this right now. also anyone who enjoyed nbc hannibal OR raw (2016). if romantic cannibalism is remotely aligned with your interests read this right now. god

Sam Winchester, Ally At Law by alittleduck (3.3k)

Sam was pretty sure he could read every single gay friendly guide to coming out or supporting queer family members ever written and literally none of them would even imply that arguing with gay people that they were actually just homophobic constituted as "ally behavior". However, Sam was equally sure that none of those book authors had found themselves accidentally watching their brother get pounded by an Angel of the Lord at 9 am on Tuesday, so Sam was pretty sure he might actually still have the higher ground. Now, if only Jack would stop trying to bond with Dean using gay slurs long enough for Sam to convince everyone of that, he might just be able to cobble together some remnant of sanity or, failing that, dignity.

Or, the one where Sam desperately wants to invent PFLAG but Dean won't stop teaching Jack gay slurs

JACK VOICE HEY COCKSUCKERS. 

hummed low by microcomets (3.3k)

Dean pulls the Impala over at a cider barn about thirty miles out; doesn't really think about it, just sees the hokey orange lettering off the roadside and lets his hands guide the Impala off the interstate with gravel spitting under the wheels.

they get a nice day out together and dean has a gay crisis and it’s written beautifully mwah

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi (3.9k)

In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything.

sometimes i think about this fic and it hits that at this point dean and cas would have been married for more than a year. cas my beloved...

an exploration of gender; angelic by sometimeswelose (4k)

Castiel's true form is made of electromagnetic radiation. He has spent the majority of his life, if you really want to add it all up and average the whole thing out, as a wavelength of celestial intent.

The thing about being made of light: it's light in the physics sense of the word. Castiel's waves are gamma, x-ray, micro, and radio. He's visible light too, of course, a visible light so intense that it is blinding to most humans.

hello trans cas community <3 he’s literally trans he was assigned genderless and then went hm actually i will be a man! love of my life

Some Boys are Sleeping Alone by prosopopeya (4.2k)

This isn't something that's okay, not for him, but it chases him through the years until it turns into something he can't -- doesn't want to deny. 

ohhh deans tenuous relationship with his sexuality my beloved...

love. worship. consummation. consumption. by redeyedwrath (4.3k)

ConsumehimNatural (copyright marcusantonius) the Series!

These are all snapshots centered around the idea of you know. Hunger in Supernatural. Both carnal hunger and other kinds. Fics are shown in semi-chronological order but this series is generally nebulously early seasons.

for ANYONE who is a consumehimnaturual this is required reading it is INCREDIBLE and gorgeous and very visceral and i am so very obsessed with it. thank you redeyedwrath for enabling my brainrot

the reach of human sense by perilously (4.5k)

“You know what Jimmy Novak looked like. You think he was beautiful—gorgeous, hot, all of it. It’s him. Not me. This isn’t my face.”

“But,” Dean says. He doesn’t know where he’s going with it. Just that Cas’ face is right there, brows drawn together and cheekbones gleaming in the lamplight. It’s a face that’s made his heart skip probably a couple hundred beats collectively since they met.

And it used to belong to someone else.

this one is just very nice <3 cas gets uncomfortable w dean calling him attractive since dean has never seen his trueform and they work it out

Down in the River by Ias (4.7k)

Alone in Purgatory and hunted by Leviathans, Castiel finds himself praying to the one person who can't hear him.

cas i love you <3 cas alone in purgatory praying to dean bc dean is the only thing he still worships i love you so much

Creature of Habit by trinityofone (5.1k)

The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well.

written in s5 when cas was depowered and completely nails the later seasons bitchy husbands dynamic it’s very good and fun <3

sink by crackers4jenn (5.4k)

"Where to?" A 9.06 coda.

very bittersweet very well written and also canon compliant so do not go into this one looking for a happy ending but i DO recommend it it’s very good

Sensational by castiowl (6.1k)

“When I first came to earth, it was advised that we temper the senses bound to our vessels. They were a distraction, we were told. An antiquated form of experiencing existence that would hinder our ability to complete our missions, whatever that may be. My true form can better facilitate these experiences. What you would recognize as heightened senses of sight and sound, among other things.”

Or, how Dean helps Cas experience all five human senses for the first time in one night.

early seasons deancas man. i love the sound part i love dean being so worried about doing a good job with this. god. read this please

Something to Protect by Sass_Master (6.2k)

Dean’s violent reaction to being unexpectedly woken has become something of a running joke among them, but Castiel can’t help but look past it to the underlying cause. It makes him ache to think that Dean feels so unsafe, so persecuted, before he’s even fully conscious.

Secretly, Castiel has been determined to work on that, to ease Dean into awareness in a less jarring way, smooth away one of the many stresses that follow him even in sleep. Now’s as good a time as any to try.

oh to sleep more soundly in the presence of someone you love...this fic is very nice i enjoyed it a lot

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers (7k)

“Hey,” Dean said. “I’m not ashamed of you, okay?”

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

“I understand you mean it,” Cas said. “But I don’t think it’s any better if you’re only ashamed of yourself.”

hello trans dean community here is 7k of trans dean having to deal with his internalized homophobia now that he’s sleeping with cas <3 it is SO good

The wilderness. by orange_crushed (8k)

He takes a shower and the pressure is not especially good, but it doesn’t matter. It’s warm and he stands under the spray a long time. Human skin, he knows, constantly renews itself, shedding the dead cells of the epidermis. He wonders how long it will take until he is an entirely new person, until every cell on his surface is a new one. He looks at his hands under the water. It might take less than a month.

this might be the only post 9x03 fic on here with a happy ending actually? plenty of good melancholy leading up to it though <3 canon divergent after 9x03 though which means no 9x06 fanfiction gap but it is absolutely worth reading

till the juice runs by deathbanjo (8.4k)

Apparently whoever drew up the venn diagram of Dean’s sex life decided the circle labelled ‘good sex’ and the one labelled ‘sex with men’ should be kept far apart.

hello this one is SO funny dean finally gets comfortable enough with his bisexuality to start having sex with men and it goes so very bad every time so sorry about your shitty choices beloved </3

First Date by aeli_kindara (8.9k)

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

this one is very sweet i liked it a lot <3 good refreshing little fic where they just get to have a nice evening together

Entertaining Strangers by cadignan (9k)

Dean settles on to his side, lying in the bed facing Castiel. “So you had sex without me and you bit all my moves. I think I deserve to hear about it, at least. What was her name?”

op im in love with you. premise is established relationship deancas and cas mentions he did have sex before dean and not only that it was a threesome. good for him <3 this fic is cas describing the story of what led up to the threesome and what happened during it while dean interrupts regularly. incredible

the shape you take by noviembre (10k)

“What?” Dean says, fake-offended. “I’d be hot as a girl, you know I would.”

And this is when he really, really should have stopped talking. When he shouldn't have whipped back around and asked, “Cas, if I was a woman, you’d fuck me, right?”

Because if he hadn’t said that, then he wouldn’t have had to deal with this:

Cas, meeting his eyes, forehead wrinkles all smoothed out like there’s nothing to be confused about anymore. Cas with something at the corner of his mouth that might barely be called a smile.

Cas saying, calmly and without hesitation, “Yes, Dean.”

--

Dean Winchester fucks around and, with the inadvertent help of some witches, Finds Out.

dean winchester your gender is diabolical. this fic is insane and its the only thing that matters actually. dean fully convinced its normal and straight to think about being a woman so you can fuck your male friend. incredible. op im proposing to you

Sinnerman by a_good_soldier (10k)

Dean listens to Nina Simone, reads Anne Carson, and makes out with a dude (sort of).

yall want to read about dean realizing he’s in love with a man as a direct result of learning to better respect women right?

you’re fooling yourself by cowboydeanwinchester (13k)

Dean Winchester and Castiel retire from hunting to raise baby Jack. Dean struggles to allow himself the things he truly wants.

Jack is two, Castiel and Dean are idiots, and Sam's gotta solve everyone's problems.

love a married couple who doesn’t know they’re married <3 everyone say thank you sam for bullying dean 

The Girlfriend Experience by rageprufrock (15k)

While it's not like Dean hasn't had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.

a classic for good fucking reason. we’ve all talked about dean thinking holding hands is too gay after having just had gay sex but my personal favorite was sam accusing dean of cheating on cas because dean bought condoms. incredible

No Kingdom To Come by domesticadventures (16k)

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

Cas looks up from where he sits on his bed, hair still damp from the shower, frowning as he places a finger on the page of his book to mark where he left off.

There are a million things Cas could say here; Dean has rehearsed them. After lunch, his restlessness had given way to a vague panic, a dread that matched his every step and crept along with him from room to room. Eventually, he had returned to his bedroom and spent the rest of the afternoon pacing back and forth, playing out all the possible scenarios. When Cas asks him Why? or Are you being serious? or when he sighs and says, in that way he has, Dean, he knows exactly what he’s going to do. He’s going to shrug casually, like he isn’t invested in the answer, like he isn’t desperate for an outlet, and say, Why not? He’s going to raise an eyebrow and say, What, are you not interested? He’s going to crowd into Cas’ personal space, he’s going to shove himself right up in there and whisper Cas against his ear.

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

literally the only quarantine fic i’ve ever bothered to read in any fandom and completely worth it it’s SO good. they become fwb and dean has an existential crisis and he keeps bringing up meaninglessness and death during sex

Bodies by Speary (18k)

It was a secret they never acknowledged even with each other. It would change everything, end everything if either of them ever dropped the act. So they became very good at acting, at keeping up the lie that gave them what they wanted. Even if that lie involved constantly seeking out temporary, consenting female vessels, Cas would do it. He told himself it was worth it for Dean. He just hoped that he could stop wanting more, or maybe one day Dean might stop pretending that he wasn't really sleeping with Cas every time.

i don’t even have anything to add tbh if that summary did not immediately make you click we are very different this fic is incredible. god. fellas do you ever make yourself a woman so you can fuck the man you love without him having to talk about it or confront his sexuality

it’s such a mystery (the way you know me) by fleeceframe (20k)

So the man crouching in front of Castiel is named Dean. He wonders if that’s supposed to mean something to him.

“Cas must’ve got hit with something earlier. He just dropped like a sack of fucking potatoes a minute ago. By the time I was checking on him, he had already woken up again, but now he doesn’t fucking know who we are.”

“I’m right here you know,” Castiel says testily.

Sam’s eyes are wide even as his eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks between Dean and Castiel again.

“What do you remember, Cas?”

“Firstly, that I’m not Cas. I don’t know who Cas is, but it’s not me. I don’t know who either of you are, either."

or the one where castiel is hit with a memory curse that makes him forget the winchester brothers and is stunned to find out he has a family... also why can't he stop thinking about dean?

BEST amnesia fic oh my god. cas my beloved you deserve the world. everyone read this that is not a request.

More Than Ever by Sass_Master (20k)

Dean’s getting some pancakes together for breakfast when Cas saunters in after a run.

He’s trying to focus on whisking batter, unfairly distracted by Cas a few feet away, breathing heavily and shining with perspiration. Dean’s been painfully aware for a long time that Cas is pretty easy on the eyes, but he’s used to seeing Cas buttoned-up and unflappable, looking straight-laced in a stiff oxford and an unflattering trenchcoat.

Now Cas is sweating, Dean’s borrowed t-shirt clinging to his skin, flushed from exertion and Dean really can’t deal with that in his kitchen right now.

this entire series is really good i enjoyed it a lot, i’m just putting this one specifically on the list bc the rest of the series is very explicit and this is really good as a standalone for anyone who wouldn’t be into the rest of the series!!

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous (20k)

"You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in."

Who the fuck was this bitchy "warrior of God" doing talking to him like that? Fuck Cas-tee-el and his dumbass trench coat and abrasive motherfucking attitude.

Dean was done with this shit.

***

Wherein a monster of the week steals the essence of Castiel's vessel, so he must use Dean, recently raised from hell, as a vessel instead.

it is at this point i realize that there are more fics than i expected there to be on this list that involves a threesome with only two people/using the presence of a female body to act like what’s happening is heterosexual. deangirlism is a disease 

I Shall Not Want by domesticadventures (20k)

His grace is burning out, and the wasteland it leaves inside him becomes an echo chamber for all the memories, all the fear and doubt and self-loathing he's collected over the years. Things said and done hound him on endless repeat until he's convinced they’ll break through his skin and fill the silence of the bunker.

His head is killing him, and he sits hunched over an open book, not really reading, just digging his fingers into his skull and praying nothing slips through the cracks.

this one is GORGEOUS i love it so so much. dean and cas are both struggling so much to get by and they’re trying to support each other but fucking it up and they have to grow together and learn to cope with the fact that this is where their lives are and they fall in love i need everyone to read this

To Boldly Go by 8daysuntiltheapocalypseiguess (24k)

Title: Just One of Those Things Author: Impala67 Series: TOS Rating: M Summary: Four years into their five-year mission, and all the planets start to look the same.

In which Dean is not Gene Roddenberry, but he does write Star Trek fanfiction.

mx winchester writing star trek fanfiction to process his own trauma <3 this is a wip but it’s SO good and i also have not consumed a single piece of star trek media so it IS definitely readable to anyone who isn’t a star trek fan. please read this

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo (30k)

“Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.”

this is on here just for the 1.5 people who were putting off this one like i did for no reason. it’s extremely good and it is just gentle. i enjoyed it a lot

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord (42k)

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

yall ever wonder what it would’ve been like if the sam and dean arrest storyline in s12 was interesting? yeah <3

Teaching Poetry to Fish by aeli_kindara (52k)

In which Castiel teaches poetry to fish. Also, himself. Also, eventually, Dean.

(A series-long story, diverging slightly from canon after S14.)

cas learning about humanity through poetry before dean and thats what led to him developing enough emotion to be lobotomized....cas i love you so much

Emergence by ellispark (58k)

Something’s been missing from Dean’s life for the past three years, a void left after a hunt gone terribly wrong. He often feels a sense of longing with no discernible cause, a need to talk to someone who isn’t there.

A call from an acquaintance leads Dean to James Novak, a man who disappeared more than a decade ago, and suddenly Dean gets the feeling he’s found what he’s been missing. But James isn’t really James — he’s the angel Castiel, who’s wanted by angels, demons and hunters alike. And he may be at the center of the storm that wrecked Dean’s life all those years ago.

another cool amnesia fic!! for unknown reasons everyone forgot cas three years ago but cas didn’t forget anything. cas deserves so much love and support. god

a turn of the earth by microcomets (95k)

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Frigging fantastic.

(Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

cas getting to meet and fall in love with pre hell dean just as much as he loves the dean he already knows oh my GOD. i love this fic so much. turn of the earth my beloved

Crossing Lines by sometimeswelose (122k)

Two Deans, one Cas - it's not as sexy as it sounds

Or

An ethics lesson from Hell

Or

The one where Dean from the past meets Dean in the present. They're not sure they like each other very much.

deans intense self hatred vs cas’ unwavering love for every version of dean oh my GOD also this is a wip fair warning but it’s so worth waiting for updates i’m having such a great time with this one i cannot wait to see how it gets ended

Plot Holes by saltyfeathers (160k)

Of course it wasn’t over after the apocalypse.

There was season six. Then there was season seven. Against all expectations, there was season eight. There were the alphas and purgatory, and then the Leviathans, and then the angels fell. Enter season nine. Loose threads Metatron, Abaddon, and Crowley have to be tied up. Sam, Dean, and Cas have to try to tie them while at the same time dealing with their evolving relationships and newfound graceless states.

Amidst all the chaos, someone has started publishing the Supernatural novels again. Convinced there’s something amiss in the pages, Charlie starts her own quest to suss out the truth behind the Winchester Gospels.

With the help of various faces, old and new, they must now not only deal with the typical runs of demons and recently fallen angels, but also reconcile the battles raging inside themselves, as the fate of the world, once again, quite literally lays in the palm of their hands.

saltyfeathers said i WILL make the plot holes in this show mean something because the showrunners are sure as shit never gonna adress them ! and i thank them for it bc this was a really cool read

Casefic/Roadtrip Fic

Deprived Of Every Planet by KelpietheThundergod (9k)

Dean's breathing is audible in the scant space between them, irregular. The motel room is dark, pale blue shadows falling in through the gaps in the blinds. Throwing a pattern of uneven white stripes over the bunched up covers. Over Dean's fingers twisted in the sheets. One half of him in shadow, softened by the dark. The heat of his skin. The tremble of him under Castiel's touch.

He caresses a hand over Dean's chest, slowly. Dean's mouth falls open, his body arching into Castiel's touch. Castiel stops over Dean's heart. Through the fever of his desire, he rejoices about the wonder of experiencing another's heartbeat through one's own senses.

Dean gasps, but then he turns his face away and towards the dark. Eyes closed tight and brows furrowed like something is hurting him.

Castiel stills.

“Dean?”

the case is background on this one but it Does take place over the course of a case so im putting it here. god touchstarved dean trying so hard to work through his shit for cas head in my hands i love this fic so much

before and after breakfast by spocklee (10k)

The monster of the week is a ghost who hates meat, alcohol, and feeling yourself. Guess who it is during the commercials.

chapter 2 of this one.....god. dean and cas you are both so unwell <3 i love everything abt this fic everyone read it now

we shovel all the ashes out by xylodemon (15k)

Dean’s always known things were headed this way. He just figured getting dragged under would be cleaner and easier than jumping in feet-first.

fics that make you go Oh they love each other...also there’s lesbians in it literally what else could you want.

thunder road by dothraki_shieldmaiden (20k)

After Chuck is defeated and the Winchesters settle into life without God, Dean Winchester is bored.

OR: Dean and Cas take a road trip and figure out some stuff along the way.

this fic is just like. it’s kind! this fic is kind it’s just a pleasant experience and i enjoyed it thoroughly. they’re in love and it’s good

Suck It, Judy Garland by GlitterDwarf, midrashic (20k)

It had to be St. Louis. Or, the one where Sam and Cas get fake married for a case, and Dean loses his mind.

actually im gonna defend dean here imagine youre dean and cas gives what definitely sounded like a deathbed love confession while making eye contact with you and then immediately afterwards fake dates your brother. who among us would not have been a bitch about this

best friends without benefits by lizbobjones (20k)

It’s nearing three a.m. and they’ve been on the road a long time. Sam’s been asleep in the back seat since eleven. Giving up and handing the wheel over to Cas and letting the guy who doesn’t sleep drive had seemed like a good idea.

the premise of this fic is so funny. cas voice dean you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid. everyone read this

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo (22k)

This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore.

alt version of getting rid of the mark of cain, the darkness never happens. this one is VERY heavy but it’s so good and it has a hopeful ending. ive read this one twice and loved it both times

Someone Who’s Feeling For Me by ellispark (45k)

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

hello op please contact me. please contact me and let me see the inside of your brain. this fic was an unparalleled experience and everyone should also go through it. i love it so very much

Bumper Cars by mansikka (111k)

Two teenagers are missing from an abandoned carnival, and there’s enough to raise suspicion that their disappearance involves a ghost. Dean, Sam, and Cas arrive in town to investigate, though what they find leads them away from those teenagers, and on the trail of a ghost story that churns up things from their past.

Can newly-human Cas, and Dean, with the help of shipper!Sam, work out the mystery behind the abandoned carnival and its ghost, and along the way, figure out the riddle that is them?

one of my absolute fav case fics it forces dean to confront some aspects of johns parenting and work through some shit and also him and cas fall in love and it’s really well done. love this one a lot <3

Finale Fix-its/Finale Denial

Sorry Jimmy by K_K_TiBal (2.1k)

Based on the tumblr textpost:

jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

this one is just extremely funny. local midwestern heterosexual man is forced to play relationship counselor to the dumbest gay people in existence because one of them wore his face

Dean Winchester Really Needs To Make Some Gay Friends by AreYouReady (2.2k)

“Like, I’m trying to think if I’ve had, I don’t know, crushes. If I ever had a gay thing before you came along and just didn’t notice,” Dean said.

Cas suddenly looked down, and away from Dean. If Dean didn’t know better, he would swear Cas looked guilty.

“What is it, Cas?”

“You have had several… gay things before.” Cas still wouldn’t look at him.

“What? When? How come you know this better than I do?”

There was no way the answer to this question wasn’t funny as hell.

dean learning about gay ppl via the memories of dean smith...incredible.

tiny difference (between ending and starting to begin) by sunforgrace (2.4k)

Sometimes Dean catches Cas staring at the sky.

It doesn’t happen often. Not when Dean’s around to tell, anyway. But often enough that he starts to notice.

Eventually Dean starts to recognize the pattern.

Cas just doesn’t watch the sky. He watches the birds.

Chuck is gone, Cas is human, and the world is safe. In the quiet aftermath Dean and Castiel find each other again.

i really don’t have much to say abt this one it is just very good and they love each other so much

Bring Home by cenotaphy (3.8k)

Dean's phone doesn't ring on the drive back to the Bunker, but that's okay. Because—well, maybe Cas lost his cell, what with getting shuffled back and forth between a cosmic void dimension and all. And anyway, Dean doesn't want this conversation to happen over the phone, he wants to—he wants to talk to Cas face-to-face. They should talk face-to-face.

Dean will tell him—

Dean doesn't know what he'll tell Cas. Dean is, in fact, terrified by how utterly and completely he does not know what he'll say to Cas.

cas being forced to face the consequences of sending the risky text that was despair <3

dean’s coworkers vs the heteronormative agenda by cowboydeanwinchester (4.1k)

Dean started working at a local auto repair shop in Lebanon, Kansas about a year ago. His coworkers don't know much about him. Except that he has a wife. Or maybe he doesn't. But he has a kid. Who is either a toddler or a high schooler. Who is either named Jack or Sammy. He also might have a best friend named Cas, but that also might be his wife.

Truth is nobody knows what to make of Dean.

obsessed w people not knowing a single fucking thing about dean because he talks so much and never explains anything. this fic is SO funny

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun (5.8k)

The Empty takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s, every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven. But in the middle of lecturing Cas in the form of Balthazar, it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

the empty playing mind games on an awake cas bc it can’t put him to sleep is a thing i like a lot and this is very very good 

Speak Silence No More by rea_sunshine (8.1k)

When Dean imagined this moment, it went like this:

Dean bursts into the Empty—guns blazing, chin high, righteous anger coursing through him. No matter what form his plans and fantasies and whiskey-drunk-whispered-promises took, he is always, always successful. When he imagined it, he was finally the hero Cas deserved.

The reality of the moment is this:

It’s fucking cold.

dean and cas STILL managing to not communicate with each other properly after the confession is so funny to me and this fic does it really well. also i like that a human being in the empty, where humans do NOT belong, had some like. consequences

my heart is a compass by lagaudiere (10k)

“There you are,” the Empty says, in Dean’s voice. It’s cold, like Dean’s eyes are cold, his expression set in contempt. It’s the expression Cas feared, he realizes, all the times he thought about saying it. Revulsion. It makes him feel sick in the way that goes beyond physical, here where there is nothing physical left.

The moment before it happened had been so sweet it covered up all the hurt. For years, Cas had been holding back those words, biting down on his tongue to keep from saying them. And now he had said it, and he knew that it was good, knew that it was worth it. But on the other side there is only this.

--

In the Empty, Cas dreams of his regrets, until someone comes looking for him.

one of thee best dean rescues cas from the empty fics out there i love the way his memories are written i love how many of them were ones that this fic came up with to give me new things to have brainworms over instead of just making me more fixated on He Watched Him Rake Leaves than i already am

killing time by orestespdf (11k)

It's been four years since Dean saved Cas from the Empty and confessed his feelings in return, and in their Vermont lakehouse, the retired couple is now learning how to heal. One morning, Dean gives Cas a haircut.

(A character study of Castiel.)

perfect fic perfect fic no notes no complaints they love each other so much and now dean is giving cas a haircut and they’re spending the day together. god.

and every time we kiss, i swear i can fly by knameless (14k)

Every time, Dean tells himself it’s the last.

--

aka, twelve times dean and cas kiss.

a just boy best friends kiss for every season <3 mwah

for which no words exist by MediaWhore (14k)

'a prayer for which no words exist' // richard siken

"Dear Cas who art in my bathtub, give me the strength to be honest about how I feel. For your sake and for mine. Forgive me all the times I wasn’t in the past, all the words I should have said but didn’t. And please stay. Please stay with me when all is said and done. Amen. "

Dean rescues a newly human Cas from the Empty. That's the easy step.

mediawhore i am in LOVE with you oh my god this fic. this fic. dean taking care of cas after rescuing him dean wrapping cas in a blanket oh my GOD

swimming with the fish pond fish by februyuri (17k)

Some time between Dean bleeding out on a makeshift hook in a barn in Ohio and Sam making marshmallows on his funeral pyre, Dean was brought back to life. By Castiel. Again. Dean agreed to it if only to give Jack time to work out the glitches up top. So, now Dean’s back in the land of the living and things are ... actually good, for once.

Or, as good as they can be when demons are attacking Earth, Dean’s failing to get over why he died in the first place, and Cas is suddenly, inexplicably taking every opportunity to casually tell Dean that he loves him.

this is a wip! but it is so good and so worth the read i love it a lot and am very excited for the last chapter. it IS pretty heavy though dean has a LOT to work through

looking like a true survivor (feeling like a little kid) by courfeyrac (20k)

"Jack’s a clever kid—has been ever since he was born, maybe even before that—but Dean’s pretty sure he hasn’t figured out where they’re going yet. And Dean’s… Dean’s excited about it. He remembers planning surprises for Sammy when they were little—saving up quarters and sneaking off to the arcade the year he turned seven, or slipping a book Dean had seen Sammy admiring into his jacket before sprinting out of the store the year he turned twelve. There was only so much Dean could give him back then, hindered by lack of finances and transportation and a father who paid attention. Now, though, Dean’s got a wallet full of cash, a tank full of gas, and the freedom to give his kid the kind of birthday he deserves."

Or, it's Jack's fourth birthday, and the kid wants to go to Build-A-Bear.

EVERYONE READ THIS RIGHT NOW. that is not a request this fic undid me. oh my god. oh my god. they’re a family and they’re going to build a bear and they love each other. oh my god. also no it isn’t a baby jack fic he is 4 and he is also alcal

what’s missing is found (our souls can exhale now) by sobsicles (27k)

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

~~~

"But have you ever just met someone and maybe it wasn't from the first moment, maybe it was after all these other moments that meant more than you ever expected them to, and it seems like your soul just—just—" Kaia makes a helpless gesture with her hands, pushing out, and she breathes out loudly. "Like it can finally exhale. And that person isn't guaranteed to make you happy, but they're—they're important. You just know it, you can't even escape it, you can't let them go. Ever met someone like that, Dean?"

"I—" Dean halts, his mouth hanging open. He's looking at Kaia, who's looking at him, and his heart is fluttering in his throat like a caged bird aching to soar again. His mind threatens to spiral out of control, but he focuses, swallowing hard. "Yeah. Um. I—yeah, I have."

deancas AND dreamhunter we love to see it also dean DOES smoke weed with kaia and apologizes for pulling a gun on her what more could you want in a fic

Command Me To Be Well by prospopeya (28k)

Dean did a lot of thinking about when and how he would get Cas back. Months of it, actually, stretching into a year, because while Sam and Eileen were settling into their new lives, Dean was stuck. He was stuck in a faraway corner of the bunker, dark and empty and hollow, ringing with the sound of a vibrating phone.

So when he falls to his knees in that same room, exhausted, hurting, breathless, and he feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Cas, he realizes that he doesn't have a single clue about what to do now. Getting Cas out had been easy--actually, it'd been the opposite of that--but the planning of it, the methodical desperation of one attempt after the other had been a familiar rhythm. It'd been soothing almost, solid, something to focus on that wasn't Cas's eyes, watery and jubilant in a way Dean hadn't ever seen that up close on anyone, let alone Cas.

And now Cas is pulling him to his feet, and Dean's stumbling, and he instinctually grabs Cas's arm, and his hand lights up with a fire that he isn't prepared for.

"Hello, Dean."

oh post despair lack of communication....oh dean refusing to work through his feelings...this fic is incredible i love it everyone who enjoys dean doing everything in his power to avoid talking about feelings up to and including having sex with the guy who’s in love with him multiple times should read this

break the skin (to break the barriers) by sobsicles (29k)

The first time she meets him, he's nothing more than an almost-missed appointment.

SOBSICLES TATTOO FIC MY BELOVED. dean grieving and getting tattoos and it turns into tattoo therapy. im SO in love with mitzi it’s insane. requires some suspension of disbelief for how long a tattoo takes but it’s an incredible fic and an unparalleled experience. sobsicles does not miss

ascend by quiettewandering (53k)

Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?

SUPER cool concept i liked this a lot i’m pretty sure everyone’s read it already but just in case someone hasn’t you absolutely should

oh sooner or later it all comes down to faith by sobsicles (62k)

Getting used to Heaven is something of a marvel. It ain't perfect, and Dean thinks he'd hate it if it was, which is probably why it isn't.

~~~

"You don't understand," Dean whispers, exhaling shakily. "I know you don't, because even I don't. The instant you were gone, I wanted you back. Cas, I wanted you back. I wanted—I wanted—"

Cas stares at him, searching his face. After a moment, his own face falls slack, eyes widening just so. "Oh," he breathes out.

Dean wants to be furious that Cas has figured it out before he has—whatever it is—but he's not even that surprised. Cas knows him too well, always has, even more than Dean knows himself. He's been kicking Dean in the goddamn teeth with how deeply he understands him, even about the things Dean doesn't, ever since they first met. You don't think you deserve to be saved, that's what Cas had said. All bundled up in impossibilities and power, this being that looked at Dean Winchester and knew every single inch of him, as if he had a right to each part.

"What?" Dean grits out.

"I love you, too."

the ONLY heaven fic. i do not read heaven fics bc i refuse to budge in my finale denialism i refuse to read fic where it is accepted that dean dies. i was hesitant to read this but god im glad i did it was so good. literally the best possible outcome of dean dying

Endverse

final fantasy. by orange_crushed (1.9k)

“If I’d actually been born human, would I have gotten sick like everyone else? Would I be running around gnawing on the neighbors?” Castiel tilts his head up and even from here Dean can see the black ring of his pupils, wide and dark as dead stars. He’s high as fuck and he’s been loading the guns for forty-five minutes. He stares into the space where Dean is. He smiles and shows his teeth. “Maybe you’d have already put a bullet in my head.”

"This is why you don’t lead storytime anymore," Dean says. "This kind of shit."

endverse last night on earth fics are something that can be so personal actually. god

The Last Song by Moorishflower (3.5k)

The very last song is the Song of Solomon, and Castiel sings it only for Dean. Set in "The End."

this is like. pre endverse and the tone is so like. wistful? is the best word ive got? it’s gorgeous i love it but fair warning there is graphic description of like. viscera and infected wounds

to think that we could stay the same by cipherwriter (6.5k)

cas has all he needs; himself, his creation, and enough power to continue this cycle for a long time. he's fine. dean wants to take care of him anyway.

oh my GOD this one is good it’s based off the thing of how originally endverse cas was supposed to be just sitting in a room killing and resurrecting the same cockroach over and over. very bittersweet at some points i love it a lot, do not read it if youre looking for something happy though lmao

the first church at the end of the world by withbloodstainedclothingon (11k)

The angels don’t eat the brain. Only Croats do that.

this one is fucked but it’s incredible it contains very heavy and violent subject matter and cas is an Actual cult leader he doesn’t just have orgies it is SO well done and i had a great time reading it i recommend it very highly if the warnings sound like something you can stomach

Down to Agincourt by seperis (1.1 million. i know. yes it’s a wip)

There is no such thing as a guarantee when it comes to war.

The outcome's known. Why try? Return your rusty sword to battered sheath, bow your head and bend your stubborn knee. Why take the field when you cannot win the war? But Harry -- he went down to Agincourt.

PLEASE. i know the length is intimidating i KNOW it’s a very long fic but please. please read down to agincourt i am begging you. head in my HANDS this series is incredible.

Non Supernatural AUS

Long-Term Relationship by bendingsignpost (2.7k)

Castiel says, budging over to make room for Dean on the couch, “I thought we should have a serious talk about our relationship.”

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

“Uh, Cas... you know we’re not dating, right?”

look man it’s bendingsignpost okay. it’s bendingsignpost it’s good and it’s sweet and you should read it

One White Lie by komodobits (11k)

Castiel takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t need to run through what he’s going to say – he’s already planned and edited and rehearsed it a thousand times. He is going to ask Dean Winchester out to dinner. If it’s not too forward, he’ll say, perfectly charming. You see, I’ve seen you around the neighbourhood and you always seem so earnest and I’d really like to get to know you bette— The door swings open, and Castiel panics.

He intends to excuse himself. He means to apologise and come back some other time. However, in a moment of blind fear, what comes out of his mouth instead are the words, “Could you spare a moment for Jesus Christ?”

do you ever pretend to be a jehovahs witness for months to hang out with the guy you like because you fucked up asking him out? yeah.

separate ways and sleeping dogs by sobsicles (53k)

Dean is three years sober when Cas comes back into town.

~~~

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Dean, once again, has to swallow the urge to offer to swallow something else. It's very hard to resist the gut-wrenching pull of want that hooks in his chest whenever he looks at Cas. And to think, he used to have him, used to be able to act on that want.

God, he's so fucking stupid.

Well, there's no point in kicking himself three years later for shit he can't change. He'll just sit right here and pretend that his fingers aren't twitching with the urge to reach out and touch. He can't do that anymore, and it's his own damn fault.

"Three years ago," Cas prompts.

Dean huffs a weak laugh. "Yeah. Eventful."

this fic hit me SO hard emotionally oh my god. don’t have much to say bc most of my thoughts on this fic are very personal but my god read this please

Everyone’s a Critic by Englandwouldfall (109k)

The one where uninspired chef Dean Winchester has a one night stand with the male (!) food critic who described the flavour of his garlic bread as 'closeted' and accidentally ends up dating him to try and prove that he's a kick ass chef, thank you very much.

(He may have a point about the 'closeted' thing).

this one is SO fun. dating the food critic who called your garlic bread closeted and lying about your career because you’re embarrassed and you want to redeem your food in his eyes but then you fall in love with him

Non Destiel Centric

gender? you mean that thing i have that pisses people off? by bigender dean winchester (homosexualitie) (946 words)

sam and dean paint each other's nails and dean abuses the technicalities of her gender. what more could you want? 

HELLO HE/SHE DEAN COMMUNITY oh my god the pure rush of euphoria reading this. oh my god. oh my god. 

the quiet road to a distant city by rottingbrains (1.2k)

Sam stares out the windshield again. They’re approaching a city, and she can see the lights in the distance. She’s past the danger zone, and she feels like the world around her reflects that in some way she can’t put into words- as if God is telling her that it’s okay. She did the right thing, and soon she will be past the lonely unknown and into the warm, forgiving light of acceptance. Or something. Come to think of it, the lights only look warm from far away, and she knows that the actual city will seem far less welcoming. Still. Best not to imagine the worst when it’s already going well.

required reading for transfem lesbian sam fans. fics that live in your ribcage to make your heart feel good

Four People Ruby Seduced & One She Actually Fell For (Or: Ruby's Epic Love Affair with Humanity in General and Sam in Specific) by tuesday (3.7k)

In which Ruby has a lot of sex, is not any kind of therapist that would be legal, and helps a few people out for her own reasons. (S4/S5 AU)

for everyone out there who enjoys ruby being a girlboss <3

Fractured Link by Trell (orphan_account) (5.5k)

Meg goes on, resolute despite the way Dean flinches, "He likes me. He likes me a lot, and I like him back, and that's probably good enough for both of us. But fuck me for saying so, Dean-o, he loves you, probably more than anything else on his daddy's green Earth, and you need to man up and give back what Clarence over there has been devoting to you for years."

this is meg/dean/cas which is not smth i really seek out but this was extremely good. set in s7 so it’s meg and dean and honey cas and it’s a lot of dean figuring his shit out and trying to forgive cas and i love meg a lot in this

[wizkiddx]

without making this a sap story ive had some not so great news from home and am in one of them moods to not talk abt it. but i need a tom h to hug me , pls could u write something like that?

hey anon - i am sending u all my love, and hope things get a little easier for u as soon as possible. if u ever do wanna chat abt nothing or rant just send me a pm x  I hope this is at least somewhat what u were looking for <33

summary: life is sometimes not good, but your fave boy makes it just a little easier to deal with (with some original help from his brother too)

a bit angsty but i promise mainly fluff (and a popcorn fight?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What drew you out of the sort-of-trance was a two soft but firm knocks at the door - well Tom’s bedroom door. You’d been relaxing with him and Harry, watching the new ‘Line of Duty’ when your mum had called for the daily catch up. Admittedly, she had already tried to call you twice today but somehow you’d managed to miss both of them. On reflection, possible not that shocking because you’d been at a charity golf day with the boys which involved a fair amount of noise, chat and competition. 

Thankfully the boys had both done pretty well, Tom coming slightly ahead but that was the norm between the two. It meant they were both happily basking in their relative victories and not moody and grumpy like they are oh so often when things go wrong. Because to them, against your pleading, begging and sometimes lecturing…. golf was not just a game.  

You and your mum had always been very close, so usually speaking to her was uplifting and made you feel a little bit more complete - what with travelling with Tom for work, her voice was a slice of home. This time though, it was not so much the case. It was just sad news about your home town. Nothing directly to your family or close friends but still, it makes you feel generally down. 

Who knows how long it’d been since you’d hung up on the phone, just staring at the wall opposite. Everything felt just hollow and empty, lacking in meaning somewhat. You weren’t necessarily thinking, more like devoid of emotion, of thoughts, of anything. Just a bit cold. 

“Y/n…Y/n?” His voice sounded hesitant, as though scared he was interrupting your call. When you didn’t respond, the door cracked open and his fluffy head poked in, not that you noticed - your brain was still half absent. Tom on the other hand, was instantly looking you up and down, very much confused as the why you looked so rigid and not present. Noticing the phone was lying quiet on the bed in front of you, he felt safe to enter. He made a beeline for the bed, perching himself down on the edge, in-front of you - so he was blocking your fascinating view of the grey wall opposite. 

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” His voice was soft and gravely, choosing not to put much energy into his vocal box as he rubbed up and down one of your arms. 

“Hmmm? Sorry, was miles away.”

“Could tell darl.” As he chuckled his eyes crinkled round the outside. “How was your mum?”

“Yeh…um okay, I-I guess.” As much as you wanted to shake yourself out of it, it just wasn’t that easy. Everything was laced with this underlying chilliness. 

“You sure? You dont really sound it?” 

“No, I um…well I’m not sure. I think I’m okay?”

“What happened?” You shook your head in response, making Tom press his lips together with a small nod. “ Don’t wanna talk about it huh?” 

“Not… not right now. Please?” 

With a permitting nod, Tom stood up and squeezed your hand, urging you to follow. Trailing behind him into the living room, he then instructed you to take a seat on the sofa adjacent to Harry, Tom himself disappearing back into the house. It made you pout a little, you wanted him to just look after you a little this evening but that self pity wasn’t allowed to last long - because a piece of popcorn flew into your cheek. You whipped your head around, with mouth open feigning shock, to see Harry smirking at you cradling a bowl full of other possible missiles in hand. 

“And what was that for?” He shrugged his shoulders, turning his head back to the TV.

“You looked sad.”

“…” Your mouth was open, no words coming out though, as you looked at the frizzy haired boy in bemusement. Sometimes you thought you understood how his head worked but at other points, the boy was a bloody mystery. Instead of explaining his thought process (because there almost certainly wasn’t one), he just smiled evily at you - wiggling his brows. And I know you know what that meant.

Sure enough by the time Tom reentered the room, arms full with different objects he’d collected round the house, the floor had been littered with popcorn kernels. You and Harry were squealing at each other as handfuls of the snack were catapulted vaguely at each other as you chased him round the room. It took Tom shouting at the both of you for you to freeze, slowly lowering your hands in ceasefire with a giggle. 

“I leave you alone for two minutes.”

“ It was his fault!” You protested, causing a 5 minute of ‘ he said-she said’ between the two of you, even if Tom wasn’t listening to the bickering. Instead, he quickly whizzed round the room picking up all the obvious popcorn bits and then spread out all the blankets he’d got from round the rented house on the sofa.

 You knew Harry, in his very own and special way, was only doing all this to cheer you up and you couldn’t appreciate it more. Your relationship with him had recently got so much closer, thanks to Tom being busy on set actually filming - while you and Harry just had some quality ‘almost sibling’ times. And now living with him too - naturally he had grown to know your tells almost as well as Tom. 

“Alright children calm down… thought we could watch movie?” Plopping himself down on the cream seat, Tom made grabby hands to you which of course you had to comply with. 

“I’ll um… I’m gonna leave you to- well to the being in love shit. It’ll make me chunder”

“We love you too bro” Tom called to Harry, who was already on his way out - but the tone of gratefulness in his voice was evident, he appreciated Harry noticing that the two of you could do with time together. 

“Don’t make it weird!” Harry’s response had you sniggering, as you pulled the fluffiest blanket over both you and Tom and nestling into his side. 

After a few minutes of Tom pretending to argue with you about film choice, before ultimately agreeing with your choice of ‘La la land’ as he always planned on letting you. The Holland boys were both very talented at subtly being a shoulder if needed, and yes you knew it was all an act - but you weren’t about to call him out. About halfway through he kissed the crown of your head and murmured. “Can tell you’re not watching darling.” He wasn’t wrong to be fair. Yes, you were looking at the screen - but your mind was far away from the plot line. 

“Sorry I um… minds like a runaway train sometimes.” Tom released a breathy chuckle at that before murmuring a ‘come ‘ere’ to you as he all but lifted you up from sitting by his side. You ended up lying almost onto of him, with both of Tom’s strong arms holding you tightly to him. Smiling into his chest, you nestled closer so the soundtrack to the movie played over the top of his constant thudding heartbeat. It took a few moments of you both just staring into the screen, completely contented for Tom to speak, squeezing you slightly tighter whilst the two of you watched Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone twirling on the road.

“I gotchu now lovie” 

And you swore then that all the thoughts racing in your mind were outpaced by those of a different kind. Still intense ideas, ones that buzzed round your brain, but these were happy. Thoughts of ‘how could I be so lucky’ and ‘I love this man with my whole heart’. 

Apparently these thoughts were also a comfort because when Tom looked down at you after what must’ve been at least half an hour, you were spark out. Breathing deep and unchanging, eye locked shut and mouth slightly squashed against his chest so your lips were pressed together. But what made the boy physical pout was the way you relaxed hand was loosely balled round a fistful of his purple hoodie. As if you were clutching at him to keep him as close to you as possible. 

He felt so grateful - not only for you, but also for the fact that he had the ability to make it a little better. You didn’t need him - Tom swore you were one of the most fiercely independent people he’d ever met - yet it was clear you wanted him. You wanted him when you felt down, the same way you wanted to be around him when you were overly hyper and chatting pure rubbish. You didn’t want him because he was the ‘Tom Holland’ you wanted him because he was Tom. 

He couldn’t fix what was going on back at your home (I mean right now, he still didnt even know what was going on). But he did know how to make everything just a little less shit. He knew how to be your person. 

And that would forever be job Tom was most proud of.

once again sending u all lots of love (esp u anon 💕)

would love to know what u guys think if ya made it this far ;)

tagging (link to join) : @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s Daughter (The Intense Years)

Tony Stark x daughter!reader

warnings:

a/n: y/n is 16-17, also ive really never written anything about team iron man so this was weird, someone needs to tell me i dont need every single movie detail in here

prompt: takes place from cacw and smhc

The Early Years (1) The Teenage Years (2) The Aftermath (4) Continued (5)

after the events in sokovia, you set up the relief fund for displaced sokovians and dealt with physical clean up while the avengers...

well, they had to deal with the press—and the governments of the world

getting to know your new suit AI, JOSHUA

briefly looking for bruce; no luck there

you ended up doing the MIT september foundation presentation with tony

and ending the presentation after pepper’s name popped up on the screen

“it’s probably best we get out of here”

you were his entire support system while he was going through his break with pepper

meeting charles spencer’s mother, who really gave your dad a piece of her mind

“my son died, but your daughter gets to live on. if you lost her, maybe you’d show some sympathy for murdering my child”

*awkward silence from you*

*awkward silence from tony otw to the compound*

HATING the sound of the sokovia accords, yet understanding why they’re being ratified

being torn between signing them or not and having a huge argument with the other avengers

“y/n, why dont you listen to your dad for once and sign the damn thing”

“uncle rhodey, you know why i dont want to sign. if they have us, they have access to our suits. you really think the UN should be telling us how to use them?”

“your defense doesn’t even make sense. i had the war machine or iron patriot or whatever the hell you want to call it, but the military was calling the shots”

“and look where you are now”

“right, well i wouldn’t expect a kid to understand”

“are you kidding me, rhodes? you’re gonna play the ‘im older than you’ card?”

comforting wanda while she feared being taken

and as soon as you heard about what happened in lagos

“think about it, maximoff. if you didnt do what you did, do you know how many more casualties there may have been?”

“but i killed innocents”

“no, rumlow killed innocents. you contained that blast better than anyone else could have and you prevented a whole bunch of deaths, give yourself some credit”

okay, so you weren’t the best at talking someone down while they were upset

staying in berlin with your father while the whole bucky thing began to get sorted out

but he sent you out to stay with nat while he had some “private time” with steve

tony keeping you close to him during the power outage at the base

until it turned out you brought your suit and tony did not!

everyone was looking at you to take down bucky, but it just seemed like a bad idea, you didn’t want to hurt him because you didn’t want to hurt steve

stalling to try and buy steve time to subdue his friend

“y/n, come on, for christ sake!”

“got it, dad! i know what im doing!”

“i dont think you do!”

feeling your stomach drop when bucky shot into your dad’s hand, if it wasn’t for his latest invention, he may have gotten seriously hurt

you had a slight change of heart after that, you couldn’t bare to lose your dad. not after all those close calls...

getting yelled at by secretary ross and the wonderful 36 hour ultimatum you, nat, and tony received

“i have a plan”

“don’t say the spider boy”

“fine, i wont say it”

a nice trip to queens :)

when this parker kid finally got home, tony left you to socialize with his aunt

small talk is sometimes unbearable

“so, what’s it like being tony stark’s daughter?”

“honestly? im always tired”

peter becoming a tagalong on your mission, which you didn’t really think was appropriate

“dad, i dont really think we should’ve brought the kid...”

“why? you’re about the same age as him, its not much different”

“um...no, i meant this isnt his battle. i don’t care how old he is”

face off between tony and cap where you literally just swallowed all your pride and apologized because you couldn’t handle the fact that the team was being ripped apart like this

team ups with Spider-Man

“so, uh, do you hate me or something?”

“hey, kid? we’re kind of in the middle of something, i’ll get back to you on that”

“it’s a yes or no question, y/n”

“pass”

so, things didn’t exactly go as planned...

your (former) teammates were taken to the RAFT and you couldn’t pull it together in front of them

they were pretty pissed at you

“im sorry, im so sorry, i should’ve done better”

they ignored you (up until scott lang)

“all you stark’s are the same”

“stay out of this, bugboy”

taking to the remote hydra base in another famous father/daughter teamup

“just like the old days, right kiddo?”

“i guess so”

“hey, cheer up, it’s not all that bad”

waltzing right in there to meet your friend and foe

seeing the video of your grandparents dying

*being killed

absolutely stunned by seeing such a gruesome thing

even after all you’ve seen, this really got to you

you were robbed of ever meeting them, which made you angry, but you couldn’t stay angry because there were so many things out of everyones control

realizing that this was a good time to hold tony back

“JOSHUA, lock down y/n’s suit. protocol: baby gate”

apparently your dad still had some old protocols in your suit that you hadn’t found yet

“JOSHUA? reboot! override protocol: baby gate”

“i’m sorry, miss y/n, but i cannot do that”

watching your father attempt to get revenge

and get critically injured

simultaneously working on opening the suit back up for a bad plan

finally getting the emergency release and stumbling out of your suit, rushing towards the conflict and throwing yourself in the middle of it

“please, dad. enough damage has been done.”

“y/n, get out of the way”

he saw you shaking and crying and he realized what he was doing

attacking the only family you guys really had

getting shoved out of the way so that they could end this fight once and for all

JOSHUA finally rebooting and bringing the suit over to shield you while you helplessly watched the end of this fight

when bucky and steve left, your suit disarmed and you crouched down beside your father

“come on, let’s just go home”

“im sorry”

“i know, it’s okay”

trying to comfort your dad after his defeat

you picked up cap’s shield and returned to your suit, it was time to go home

after a brief time of recovery (while you helped work on uncle rhodey’s prototype prosthetics), there was a slight change of plans for you

“okay, so for your punishment after what you pulled during my...divorce with cap, you’re going to babysit the spiderling so you gain some perspective”

“hold on, what?! what do you mean ‘perspective?’”

“i mean you dont know what it’s like to be in charge of the life of a teenager, so now you get to find out! congratulations on your promotion!”

it was not fun at all because peter kept blowing up your phone and you kept having to tell him there was nothing for him to do

Y/N: I’ll let you know when there’s a spider-level threat, kapeesh?

P. Parker: Yes, ma’am, sorry.

peter going behind your back to do some “superhero work”

and you having to swoop in to fix everything last second

“come on, you stole my thunder, y/n!”

“no, peter, i saved your life. next time you have a lead, call me first”

and then he didn’t 😌✨💕

“Y/N, incoming call from ‘big fat meanie’”

“put him through, JOSHIE...hey dad, how’s dubai?”

“taking care of a kid is harder than it looks, isn’t it?”

“don’t start with me”

damage control ahahah 🤡

“peter, why cant you just call me in? you don’t stop texting me for months but for this you go radio silent? you almost died. and you put a bunch of lives in danger! do you want me to have to go to your aunt and tell her you died?”

“im sorry! i just...i dont want to be a sidekick”

“kid, you’re gonna have a long time to make a name for yourself...but not if you’re dead!”

he started crying and you were very uncomfortable so you tried to hug him? it helped.

letting him off easy (just like your dad did to you growing up)

but apparently tony came back and took the suit anyways and you were pretty pissed about it

avengers moving day :) yes, part of your punishment was helping happy with moving day and hearing him gush about how you were “growing into such a responsible adult”

“happy i dont know if you noticed but ive basically been an adult since i was 12”

“keep telling yourself that, kiddo”

seeing an explosion and immediately knowing it was peter

“i’ll see you later, happy, love you!”

investigating the crash site and whaddaya know, there’s peter and his first bad guy, you were kind of proud

“peter, you okay?”

“nope!”

“okay, cool”

more damage control lmao (a/n: yall sick of damage control yet?)

a congratulatory call from your dad

“hey! you did pretty good, all things considered. why don’t you take the kid to the avengers compound for his special surprise?”

“aye aye, see you soon.”

“love you, kiddo”

“you too, dad”

quick fast forward to peter rejecting the position as an avenger while the press was outside, yes, you were surprised

but then your dad finally proposed to pepper, it was a pretty cool engagement announcement

“y/n, will you be my maid of honor?”

“duh!”

happily ever after (a/n: until the next part is up)

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid 193

193 When Lance fell asleep, their roles had reversed. Keith calling Shiro to check in, after overhearing how they hadn’t really talked to anyone. The conversation with his brother wasn’t that long due to him not wanting to leave Lance. Knowing Krolia, whatever advice she’d given him was probably shit, though, as Lance had said, his mother was probably the closest person he could turn to advice for this. Coran may have had a pretty interesting past, but as far as Keith knew, he’d never been on the end of being pregnant. Pidge... wasn’t exactly maternal, and Allura... was Allura. She’d make a good mother... in her own way. Maybe this trip would have been better if they’d invited the others? Not so much Rieva and Matt, but Pidge and Hunk. “Keith?”Hearing Lance call his name, he forced himself out the bathroom. It was now closer to dusk than to dawn. Lance had needed time to cry out his frustrations“Hey, beautiful. How are you feeling?”“Better... thirsty... and sorry”Sorry because they hadn’t been to see his dad yet... Keith was slightly annoyed by that fact, but not mad. Lance hadn’t asked for his ego to start being a pain in the arse, and with all the stress he’d been putting himself under, he really needed the rest“Do you want some blood?”“We didn’t do my injection”Fuck. He hadn’t thought of that“Do you want to go the bathroom, and I’ll get it organised?”“Okay” It felt like nothing now to draw a bit of blood for Lance’s injections. The fear of the curse had lessened. Lance would have never tried to feed off Matt or Rieva, even in a desperate situation. But whether it be luck, or Lance’s own curse, it seemed to kill the werewolf curse before it could turn their twins. Maybe Lance had a point about some of their more careless activities? They shouldn’t be able to stand being in the same room, they both shared moments with their egos that really hurt, but he hadn’t been thinking of his own safety since turning. Just the safety of everyone they called family. Coming back from the bathroom, Lance sat beside him on their bed. Resting his against Keith’s shoulder, he sighed softly “Okay... inject away”The injection always only took a moment. In, inject, out, then Lance would rub at the healing mark. His boyfriend sighing again, overthinking things“You needed to let it out”“I know. I feel like I’ve brought the whole mood down and I hate it. You must be starving”Yep. He was. His metabolism was something crazy. The amount of food he consumed was frankly scary“I’m okay. Here, have some blood and we can think about getting something to eat”“I thought I had this planned. You know? We’d have breakfast, than go see your dad. Clean his grave up. Talk to him... A mental breakdown wasn’t scheduled”“Are they ever? Did mum help?”“She’s no Mami when it comes to advice. She said to chuck my fear out the window”Keith snorted“Right. Because it’s totally that easy. Was she okay?” They didn’t know if she was coming or not. Not with her work schedule. Keith kind of hoped she would, yet she’d made indications of it. Like, would he even recognise his father’s grave? And what did he say? “Yeah. She was her usual self. I called her for advice, but I know she was disappointed it wasn’t you”“Nah. She loves you. I think she even likes you better than me”“She’s your mum. She loves you. She’s pretty worried how this is affecting you. I could tell”“I’m okay... kind of. I’m getting there. Umm... Nothing time with my beautiful boyfriend won’t fix” Lance groaned at him“Babe, you don’t have to try so hard. It’s okay. I’m hardly beautiful... I’m like... the very definition of a wreck right now”“You’ll be okay. Here, wrist or um... neck?”“Wrist... sorry... it’s just easier in this position”“Don’t be sorry. I’m not sorry”He’d noticed something. Lance only liked to feed on his neck when they were making out or in the heat of things. His fingers when Lance was trying to be quite mid do“I am. I love you so much. So so much. I neglected your safety... and you’re still being... so good to me”“Idiot. I love you. Your hunger won’t last forever. I should have gotten some blood into while you slept... it’s bad to let your... um... levels drop”“I’ll be okay. They’re still okay... I think one of them tried to break my rib when I was in the bathroom” Keith loved hearing the twins were moving. Even when it was uncomfortable for Lance, he felt like he was hearing cute stories he wouldn’t be able to forget. He didn’t think he had the patience to be pregnant... which only made him prouder of strength Lance showed“They take after you. All silent and deadly”“Babe, I’m not a fart”Keith hadn’t thought of that, chuckling as he shook his head“I know. You smell awful in a good way. Not like my lactose farts”“Eh. They’re part of you. A couple of wads of tissue up my nose and you’d never tell”“I’ll remember that for next time. Here, eat something. Don’t be afraid if you need a little more” That was something else Keith noticed. Lance took care with the amount of blood he took from him, but the volume seemed like it would be a lot for a human. Very rarely he felt light headed, questioning if he’d be conscious if he was still human. He’d never tell Lance. He’d freak out immediately, plus fluids and a good meal had him back in shape in no time. Lance moaned as he bit into Keith’s wrist, reminding him he’d have to make more of an effort. Maybe it’d be for the best if he ran an IV line for Lance tonight, just to get his hunger knocked on the head completely. Pulling off, Lance lapped at the trails of bloodied spit left on Keith’s arm. The wounds starting to heal instantly“Better?”Catching a few small beads pushed out by the healing wound, Lance hummed “Mmm... I know this isn’t comfortable for you”It shouldn’t have been hot, but it was. It stroked his pride to provide for their boyfriend the one thing he needed above all else“I’m fine, babe. As long as you’ve had enough”“Yeah... I’m good. I’m still sorry. I think I’ve been taking more and more of late”“Nah, it’s fine. But I was thinking we should probably set you up with an IV later, seeing how little you ate today. You need to keep your fluids up”“But keeping my fluids out means I have to pee”Whining at him, Lance was too cute“I love you and your walnut sized bladder anyway”“I think it’s more like a grape at this stage. I’m sorry my ego chuckled a wobbly... and that we spent most of today in bed”“There’s nothing more that I love, than spending the day in bed with you”“Pervert. I’m serious though. I don’t want to be scared like that. I want to see where you grew up. I want to know everything about you. All of it”“You might not like all of it”“I don’t know. I think we both know that I’m like crazy stupid in love with you and all those little things that drive me crazy only make me love you more” Keith groaned softly. He’d become weak to Lance. Last real story he had left to share with his boyfriend was the night Shiro saved his arse. Lance knew most of it. Keith couldn’t remember what he’d told him, nor was he sure why he’d never told him all of it. Being on the streets had taken a toll, and the thought of a warm bed and decent shower left him going with people he already knew were no good for him. They’d offered him a good time when he’d been so completely done with fighting to be alive“Alright. How about we go get dinner and figure things out from there”“Mmmm... sounds good to me. Let me change, then we’ll go”“I probably need to freshen up too”“I hate to say it but we both kind of stink” From sweat. Under the blankets left them both sweating in their sleeps. Lance smelt deader than ever, with Keith not far off. Personally he didn’t mind stinking of Lance, but Lance felt like he needed to do more to protect Keith with things like being careful with his scent“Want to take first shower while I look for somewhere good to eat?”“Sounds like a plan... I... don’t know if I’ll freak out again”“It’s okay. If you do, we can totally go. I know we’re here to see my dad, but your safety and comfort comes first. I don’t want you to think you have to hide things from me”“I know. I won’t take too long”“Don’t go rushing. The last thing we need is for you to slip. That sounded harsher than what I meant”Lance shook his head at him“It’s okay, we both know I’m a klutz. I’ll be careful. We’ve come this far. I’m not about to risk them”“I’m worried about you, too. I don’t want you being hurt”“I’ll be fine... Let me freshen up, then you can take me out for dinner” Lance kissed Keith’s wrist where he’d fed. Keith couldn’t believe the passage of time since meeting Lance had moved so fast. It must have been a year now, or very close to a year. This time last year, he’d have thought himself turned and cursed with a single bite. The Blades really did teach some total bullshit when he stopped to consider all of things he hadn’t thought of before. He’d been such a dumb arse. Luckily he had Lance to set him straight... or not so straight... though he wasn’t sure what he was as it was Lance he loved and not only his physical body. Realising how easily he could fall into an internal debate over all of that, he gave a shake of his head. Lance said he’d let him take him to dinner, so that’s what he was going to do. *Holding Keith’s hand, the freshness of the night felt nice against Lance’s skin. Keith either hadn’t bothered looking up somewhere else to eat, or he’d been trying to please Lance, resulting in dinner at the same restaurant they’d had breakfast at. This time Lance figured out what was wrong with the place. As they’d finished dinner, the waitress had come to collect to their plates, on her arm balanced by the nozzle was a bottle of orange scented surface spray. Being a public restaurant, smells of all sorts bombarded his senses from the moment they walked. With so many scents, he hadn’t consciously noticed the orange surface spray. The fact that Sendak still held such a hold over him left Lance unable to enjoy his meal. The atmosphere of the restaurant was good, Pidge would have loved the idea of sneakily signing them up for the weekend Karaoke competition, then abusing everyone heckling her over bad singing... He missed those days. He missed not being pregnant and not fearing his scent. Heck, he missed ghost hunting. He missed watching Pidge get super enthused as Hunk prayed for it all to be over. The restaurant was the kind of place he could see himself having a few quite drinks had the place been in Garrison. The kind of place that Sal’s had been to them before he’d had to hideaway his changing body. The Lord knew he was looking forward the day they could all go out again. He was going to order the biggest, greasiest, slimiest, cheesiest pizza in existence. Maybe even have Sal get some cigarette ash in there for that true diner flavour... “Want to take a walk?”No. Maybe... He wanted to go home to bed... but he’d spent the day in the hotel room. Staring past Keith, the stars twinkled over the town as if trying to say that nothing bad could ever happen here, which was a bold faced lie if ever there was one. Keith drew strength from the moon, and both of them had eye sight sharp enough to walk around in the dark safely enough... plus... it’d give them time to get the layout of the town down... His boyfriend seemed to be oblivious to internal wavering, Lance wondering if this was his way of easing into things he either wanted to tell, or easing into seeing his father... or even a chance to cover his arse when Shiro asked how much of the town they’d gone out and seen“Sure. There’s a park a few blocks down. I saw it on the town map”“You saw a town map?”“Did you really not look this place up at all? They have a similar lay out to Garrison, which makes sense in a way... they were both trade posts at some time, though I’ve got not idea what they could have pulled out of all the sand”“I didn’t even know that much. It’s like... all I remember is the shack... all of it feels like being on another planet”Lance slid his hand into Keith’s “It’s a good thing I’m here to keep you grounded. Don’t even think about packing your bags for another planet. You’re not leaving me behind”“I’m sure that if I ever got spirited away into space, you’d be right there with me”“Yep. Probably screaming my head off the whole time too”“I think I would be too. Let’s go, I’ll follow your lead”“Don’t you always?” Keith kissed his cheek. Lance blushing lightly as his boyfriend replied “yep”, followed by two more kisses on his cheek. Lance would follow Keith to the ends of the Earth, with Keith just as happy to follow him instead. Unless one of them made the decision, they’d be following each other around in circles for the rest of their lives... That didn’t actually sound too bad... Walking down to the park, the town had a nice vibe to it. Lance felt bad for whoever was in charge of cleaning the park’s rubbish bin after his dinner decided to make a reappearance before they’d reached the toilets towards the middle of the park. Cleaning up, and using the facilities, the pair of them settled themselves down on the swings. It’d been months since he’d been on a swing set, in Cuba, yet it had to be longer for Keith. Dragging his feet in the sand to make a heart, he supposed they looked like a couple of kids up to no good. He’d seen enough memes that he knew adults missed swing sets, and he knew he definitely counted in their ranks. Pushing off lightly, the chain creaked under his weight. A memory of Veronica coming to mind from back when having a baby brother that was a vampire was something cool. He’d wanted to go higher and higher, the pegs of the swing set shaking, so Luis and Marco held it down as he swung as high as he could get. He’d been sure if he’d gotten a little higher he could have looped the chain around the top, but Papi had lost it at the four of them“You seem happy”“Mmm. I like swings”Letting the swing slow naturally, Lance grinned at his boyfriend mischievously. They had the whole playground to themselves “What about you? What’s your favourite piece of playground equipment?” Keith hummed. He’d been making a mound between his shoes, trying to keep the sand from slipping back down “I hate the monkey bars”“Oh? What’d they ever do to you?”“A shit kid at one of the families threw a rock at me because I could pull myself up to sit on top of them. It hit me in the head and I fell off backwards”“Wow. That kid sounds like a wanker”Keith nodded, expression semi serious “They were. I got in trouble for falling off”“That’s kind of what kids do though. They play and climb... it’s what kids are supposed to do”Keith sighed, before shaking his head“It doesn’t matter now. I can’t even remember their face, let alone why they through the rock”“They were probably jealous because you’re so much cooler than them. I bet you were a totally rad kid. I wish I’d known you then” Lance didn’t think about what he’d said. He felt like kicking himself as Keith mumbled “Right. The fucked up orphan no body wanted was a “rad kid””“Hey. No. No. That is not on you. Not at all. Adults are supposed to be there and be the strong ones. Not kids. I sincerely wish I could lord over every single person who hurt you, how fucking amazing you are”Keith gave a scoff of disbelief. Lance saddened that his boyfriend’s anxiety had gotten to him this badly. Climbing off his swing, the vampire wrinkled his nose at the sand pouring into his shoes as he moved to stand behind Keith“What are you doing?”“I’m going to push you?” Wasn’t that obvious? He’d waddled his pregnant arse all the way behind Keith. The only logical conclusion was he was going to push him on the swing“You don’t have to”“Maybe I want to? Maybe I want to play in the park because there’s no one else around. No bad scents. No blood. No spirits. No yucky feelings other than the sand under my socks...”“It is a nice park”“Right? Now, hold on” Pushing Keith on the swing, Keith gradually loosened up, even starting to laugh as Lance backed off and watched“You can do it, babe!”“I’m totally going to jump off, you know that, right?”“It’s like an unwritten law of swinging, seeing how far you can jump”“I think I have an advantage...”“Doesn’t matter. I’m totally challenging you to a swing off once these two are born”“That’s not fair, you’ve got wings”Lance huffed. They had a mind of their own, much like the rest of his body “Which are mostly useless. I can’t even fly around as a bat”“That’s fine. Ready?”“Go for it!” Keith jumped a little too soon, half faceplanting in the sand. With the way he landed, Lance rushed to his side to find his boyfriend laughing“Are you okay?”“I fucked that up”Kicking Keith lightly in the side with the toe of his shoe, his boyfriend rolled over, smiling like an idiot. Lance’s heart had stopped with the way Keith landed, now the idiot was smiling so happy he felt all warm inside “You had me worried!”“I guess I’m not that great at sticking the landing”“You weren’t that great at jumping. You went before the swing was at the right height!”“You make it sound like you’re training me for the Olympics” Channeling the best sports commentator voice he could, Lance’s voice wobbled slightly as he tried not to laugh at how funny he was“You don’t get at a ten-point-zero for your landing. Zero style. Very simplistic. Could this spell the end for Keith Kogane’s budding career before he even goes professional?”Keith laughed. A proper unguarded laugh. Lance feeling the luckiest man in the world to hear it “I’m being serious!”“Uh huh. Sure you are. You know, the stars are really pretty. I feel like I can see them way better than before”“That’s because all your senses increased. Werewolves and vampires are kind of night creatures”“I still don’t know how to turn into a wolf. I don’t know if it counts”“It totally does... Now, are you getting up? Or should I pick you up in the morning?”Keith patted the sand next to him“You could come down here”“Or you could come up here... I’m too pregnant to deal with sand”“Fair point. We have the whole park to ourselves... I don’t think I’ve ever really... just... you know...” That Keith hadn’t played on a playground saddened Lance. Even as an adult, playgrounds were still fun. With no one around to watch them, there was no point being responsible adults“You know, there’s a slide over there... and a flying fox...”“Babe...”Keith tried to dismiss the idea, Lance using “boyfriend” which proved very effective. Damn Pidge. She’d gone and put that back into his head at her birthday party“Come on, it’ll be fun. I mean, I probably can’t use the spinner, not unless you want to scramble the twins, but the slide never gets old”“Fine, but if we get in trouble, you’re taking the blame”Lance shrugged. They weren’t violating any laws that he knew of. They weren’t intoxicated. Nor were they committing property damage or trespassing“The lawyer in me tells me it’s going to be okay”“I’ll remember that when I get my one phone-call”“You better. Though it would be a conflict of interest to represent you, so let’s not get in trouble?” The did indeed get into trouble. Keith got wedged in the kids slide, and Lance was too tall for the flying fox, so that was disappointing. They were still messing around when the lights of a cruiser flashed red and blue, the two of them called over by a police officer who looked unable to catch them, even if they had been human. Swallowing down his fear, Lance took Keith by the hand, walking him over to the officer when Keith kept telling him they should run. Getting closer, the man clearly didn’t expect two fully grown adults to be playing in the park so late at night. “Officer, how are you tonight?”Putting on an air of responsibility, Lance felt he’d be the more convincing adult of the pair of them“I had a call about teenagers mucking around in the park. Want to tell me about it?”Keith snorted with laughter, Lance stepping on his foot to shut him up“That was us, sir. I’m sorry if we created a disturbance. We’re on holiday, you know, before the twins come, and wanted to have a little fun. I had no idea we we’re causing a disturbance” Keith tried to muffle his laughter, Lance mentally rolling his eyes at his boyfriend who was clearly upsetting the police officer. Huffily, the man asked“So I’m not going to find any of that junky paraphernalia you young people are into these days?”“No, sir. I know we might look young, but I’m 46 and my boyfriend here is 28. No drugs, or alcohol, sir”The man looked them up and down, Lance waited for something along the lines of “I wouldn’t lie to a police officer, if I was you”. Instead the man sighed“Look. You can’t be playing in the park at midnight. You’re obviously not locals. You staying at the hotel?”“Yes, sir. My boyfriend is a photographer, we’re travelling to work on his portfolio. Sorry. We wanted to have a little fun with no one around”“I’ll have you save that sort of fun for a more appropriate environment. Get in the back, I’ll give you both a ride back”Lance immediately shook his head“We’re both able to walk back...”“That wasn’t an invitation. We get a lot of blow ins for this damn Easter festival the town insists on having. The last thing I need is the pair of you thinking your entitled to cause trouble. Get in” Lance felt like a scolded school child as he did as he was told, Keith sliding in beside him, though his boyfriend still thought they should run. Clipping their belts in obediently, Lance bit his bottom lip. Maybe they’d gotten carried away? He didn’t think they were being too loud. All they’d been doing was acting like idiots. They hadn’t damaged any property... plus Keith had gotten on the spinner, which had been hilarious given how much strength he could put into a spin. His boyfriend had gotten off with shaky legs, tripped, fell in the grass and burst out laughing. Lance knew he should stay quiet, but this was a golden chance“Excuse me, have you been an officer here very long?”The man met his eyes before pulling away from the park curb“Long enough” Damn. He wasn’t giving him anything“Do you happen to know anything about the fire that took place here about 20 years ago?”Keith’s heart started racing harder. Yeah. He should have been considerate about Keith’s feelings, but this was like the perfect chance“Oh, I know about that fire alright. One dead. 250,000 dollars worth of damages. I don’t know why you’re bringing that up, but you’re best dropping it. A lot of people were hurt by that incident. Damn candle left unattended. The place went up faster than a whore’s knickers drop”“If one wanted to know about the fire, is there a local registrar office?” The office pressed the breaks suddenly, instead of gently stopping at the stop sign“Look. I’m sure you’re nice... whatever you are. But what happened that day is no laughing matter. We lost one of our own that day. It’s an ugly scar on the history of this town and I won’t have the pair of you treating it like a joke”Whelp. He’d gone and made him angry“I mean absolutely no disrespect. It’s such a horrible thing to have happened. When you saw you lost one of your own, I assume you mean an officer?” Resuming driving, the man sighed at him as if he was stupid, their eyes meeting again in the rear view mirror “No. Not an officer. One of our local fire fighters. They tried to stop the blazing jumping house, when the second floor came down. Horrible tragedy. We lost a fine man that day”“Did you know him?”“Aye, we all did. Bit of a loner. Kept to himself, especially after his missus skipped town. Heeee... had a boy from memory. Hard worker though. That boy... he was tiny thing of a kid. Still, he gave everything he could to that boy. He ended up vanishing, just like his mother. Couldn’t tell ya where she went. Up and vanished as suddenly as she appeared here. No idea how the pair of them met, and before we knew it, she was up the duff, then gone a couple of years later. Couldn’t handle the stresses of being a parent, if you ask me anything about it”“And all of this is public record?”“Bits and pieces. Look. I won’t tell you again, losing Joe hurt a lot of people here. He was a good man. Kind of man you never really knew what was thinking. But when he saw his boy, he’d light up like a goddamn Christmas tree. Loved that kid, he did. He was real torn up when his woman shot through, but never blamed his boy. We often used to wonder what happened to that kid, ah, but I suppose it’s one of those things you’d never know” The officer was letting his accent show. Keith seemed on the edge of tears“Say we didn’t want to drop it, is there anyone from around there that we can talk to about it”The man fixed him with a glare“People move on. Dredging that up again is only going to cause pain. If I hear you two are stirring up trouble because your curious over something that is none of your business, I will escort you out of town meself” That mean there were indeed people out there who’d been around at the time of the fire and may remember Keith, and his father... and that the council office should have record that’d help them place the pieces of that day together. The last few minutes of the drive was in silence. The officer having to squidge himself out the door in order to open the back door of the cruiser to let them out. The man really didn’t know what to make of Lance, he got it. He looked like a woman and sounded like a man. Some people were so damn backwards that they couldn’t accept change. Lance still opting to be polite, on the off chance they crossed paths again “Thank you for the ride. We’re sorry we caused you trouble”“Don’t let it happen again. There’s laws about these kinds of things. Consider yourselves both lucky and warned”“Yes, sir. Thank you” As the police cruiser left, Keith collapsed against him, sniffling as tears rolled down his face. His boyfriend wrapping his arms around him with a little too much force“Babe?”“He... loved me”With his arms pinned, Lance could only raise his hand enough to pat Keith’s arm “Yeah, babe. He did. I’m sorry I didn’t ask if it was okay to ask, but the opportunity to know something more was right in front of us”“He... he still went back in... he...”“He loved you. He loved you, and I know I’m not him. I could never know what he was thinking, but I think all he wanted to do was stop the fire before more people were hurt”“He left me”“Not by choice. You heard that guy. He loved you. He adored you. And he was so proud to be your dad. You... you were loved. You are loved”“Can we go back to the room?”Lance’s heart was breaking for his boyfriend. Sure, they’d learned a little and tomorrow Lance wanted to hit up the council to dig up whatever he could on Keith’s father’s past, but right now...“I was thinking the same thing. I want to hold you”“Please?”“Always, babe. Always and forever” ReplyForward

[this-haunting-hunger]

fic: don’t take this haunting home - IV

Wei Ying lives with many ghosts. It’s usually not a problem. He used to be one himself, after all. However, ghosts have one glaring fault, and it is this: they are, by definition, people who refuse to stay completely dead.

And as far as Wei Ying is concerned, some dead people should stay that way.

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four

Content: angst, violence, ghosts

Pairing: Wangxian

Length: 7.2k

read on ao3

//

Waking up is no harder than being resurrected. Which is to say, it is very hard and kinda nauseating and absolutely disorienting and could he maybe go back to being unconscious? There’s a song drifting at the edge of his awareness, all strings and silver, a soft, cradling presence that makes it seem like staying awake might just be bearable. For several minutes, as the music wraps around him, he lets himself sink into it, into the warm embrace of something familiar but enigmatic. A story he used to know but whose ending he’s forgotten. Let me stay, he finds himself thinking, and doesn’t understand why. Please, let me stay.  

Consciousness is relentless. No matter how hard he tries to push it away, it just comes back, nudges him with ever firmer insistence. Like a mangy dog, burying its cold nose against his skin. A groan peels through his too-dry lips – the music stops – and it feels like his soul is separating from his body with the pitiful sound. Like if he breathes too hard, he’s going to end up losing whatever churned up mess is inside. And gods, that will not be pretty for anyone involved.

Anyone involved… Who is involved? With another low moan, he reaches up, prods tenderly at his forehead. It seems to be distinctly Wei Ying shaped, which is a weird enough discovery to pry his eyes open. He’s greeted by a very welcome face, and a much less welcome surge of pain and dizziness as the light stabs at him.

Since the face has been seared on the insides of his eyelids for years now and he doesn’t fear losing it in the next few minutes, Wei Ying shuts his eyes again. The blackness is a pleasant balm to the pain, though the dizziness seems to have lodged itself into his brain.

“Lan Zhan,” he rasps, only slightly more pathetically than he feels. “Ah, Lan Zhan, I swear I didn’t steal the Emperor’s Smile this time.”

There’s no verbal response, but a hand catches his wrist, fingers skimming gently along his skin until they find what they’re looking for and press more firmly against his meridian line. It would be soothing, that touch, if it didn’t almost feel like it was pushing against someone else’s flesh. The transfer of energy is more familiar, though, ticklish and light and refreshing, and Wei Ying’s eyes flutter before he forces them open again.

It would be altogether too selfish to let himself enjoy the elegant lines of Lan Zhan’s face for a few moments… but oh, it is tempting. Even when those lines are just a trifle too sharp, a little too slanted, his lips pressed a bit too hard together. Even angry, Lan Zhan’s beauty is a visceral thing, summoning a bloom of warmth in the pit of Wei Ying’s stomach, and honestly, he should have more near-death experiences just for the pleasure of waking up to that leaning over him.

Of course, near death or not, Lan Zhan is very often nearby when he wakes up. It’s just that the looming thing is kind of sexy.

But because he is not selfish – and because the anger has something guilty and anxious swarming up his throat – Wei Ying swallows hard and tries to sit up. Lan Zhan immediately puts his free hand on his chest and keeps him pinned, though the man isn’t meeting his gaze, eyes fixed elsewhere. Wei Ying thinks he has nice wrists, but probably not nice enough to warrant them being stared at for thirty or so seconds.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, trying to delicately pry the hand from his chest. It doesn’t move. Even when his other hand joins in the attempt, with Lan Zhan’s fingers still curled around his wrist, he can’t get the other man to shift. “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whines, mainly because the Chief Cultivator still isn’t really looking at him.

“Rest,” is his companion’s flat insistence. It’s not the good kind of flat, either, the kind that is steady and stable and extends forever. It’s the kind that makes Wei Ying feel like he’s going to fall, with absolutely nothing to stop the downward slide.

He wilts, dizziness still swimming across his vision. Head falling back onto the bed, Wei Ying keeps his hands clasped around Lan Zhan’s forearm as he murmurs, “I’m glad to see you.”

There’s a pause, a silence that’s too deep, too thick, too easy to suffocate in, and he almost has time to be really, truly afraid. Almost. But not quite. Because then Lan Zhan is replying, in a voice that nearly breaks, “As am I. Wei Ying, you…” Extra pressure from the hand still pressed against his chest, a tightness in the fingers wound around his wrist. They’re the only physical signs of the aggravation Wei Ying knows the other is feeling. It all comes to nothing. “How are you feeling?” his lover asks, as though that were really what he had been about to say.

It’s – almost frustrating. He almost wishes Lan Zhan would let loose the anger, set out accusations in neat little rows, if only so Wei Ying could knock them all asunder. How is he supposed to be chaotically endearing if there’s nothing to whirlwind his way through?

“I’m feeling well rested,” is his response, a trifle more than a trifle obnoxious, and also a lie. A line actually appears between Lan Zhan’s fine eyebrows, which means Wei Ying is really making some progress on the maddening front. Partly because he knows it will annoy the other man, but mainly because he’s genuinely puzzled, he changes the topic. “How did you get here? And where is here, anyways?”

The room they’re in is a generic one, at least from what Wei Ying can tell when he cranes his neck, still unable to sit up because of a certain stubborn someone. One window is letting in a good deal of light, and the place is clean but largely unadorned. A simple bed, a nondescript table with plain sitting cushions, unadorned sectioning screens, little in the way of decoration. It’s also ghost-free, which may or may not be a good thing, but it’s a thing his head is throbbing too much to think about. At least for the next few minutes.

He hasn’t received an answer, but nonetheless he knows. “An inn, right? Which one?”

“Tiantan.”  

The village at the foot of Suntouched Sanctuary. The one he’d passed through this morning. Or – actually, he has no idea how long it’s been since his feet took him up towards the temple. That’s a realization that has disorientation tumbling down his spine, counting out each vertebra like there might be a few too many jammed in there. He wiggles uncomfortably at the thought, and decides he’s probably let Lan Zhan steep in his protective anger for long enough.

Relinquishing his grip on the other man’s arm, he reaches up, trails his fingers over the exposed hollow of Lan Zhan’s throat, brushing back little strands of silky black hair to bare the skin better. His lover doesn’t pull away, and the quizzical half-tilt of his head, the swallow that Wei Ying can feel through the pads of his fingers, they have a helpless little sound stirring behind Wei Ying’s lips. Gods, how can anyone so beautiful be so charming, too? He resists his impulse to wax eloquent about Lan Zhan’s many virtues and says instead, “You know, if you’re so determined to keep me in bed, I can think of a few ways you might convince me to stay.”

It’s light enough in the room to see Lan Zhan’s pupils flare, dark and intent in the splash of sun spilling across his austere face. His throat convulses, another hard swallow, and for half a second, he leans in closer, unbound hair tickling Wei Ying’s face. It looks like he’s actually thinking about what he could do to keep Wei Ying obediently in place. Wei Ying’s body tenses, an automatic response to the smoldering expression, and it occurs to him that he really could think of a few things they could do on this bed. They’re so close right now, the least they could do was kiss…

Lan Zhan’s frustrated exhale puffs against his lips, and then the other man is straightening and backing away. Wei Ying doesn’t bother hiding his disappointed pout, which, given that his masterplan had been to get Lan Zhan to let him up, is a bit ridiculous. Whatever. No one has ever called the Yiling Patriarch a fount of Maturity and Constancy; he sees no reason to get them started now.

“You nearly died. You think I’d want to do… anything… after that?” Lan Zhan’s voice is so strangled with indignation that it’s somewhat funny, and Wei Ying has to stifle his rash impulse to point out that Lan Zhan certainly did want to do something, if only for a moment.

Quickly discarding his disappointment in favour of a smug grin, he sits up before Lan Zhan can change his mind. He only regrets it by about ninety percent when his stomach immediately lurches, nausea and dizzy pain warring for supremacy. The dizziness wins – thankfully – and, swallowing the urge to retch, he swings his legs over the side of the bed. He even (almost) manages to persuade himself that there hadn’t been a moment, half a second or less, when he’d thought his legs might not respond, given that they still don’t feel entirely like his legs. Nothing about this body feels entirely his, right now. A familiar sensation, but one aggravated by his use of Empathy.   

“Wei Ying…”

Ignoring that, he straightens, rolls his shoulders, mainly to convince himself that he has the ability to do so. Giving the room a more careful scan, he notes Lan Zhan’s guqin settled on the low table. The sight of the beautiful instrument has his throat closing, and it takes him a moment to realize why. The music that had been playing – the cursive, melodic trail he had followed out of the wrenching blackness of Wen Zhuliu’s despair – belonged to those strings. And those strings belong to Lan Zhan. Of course he feels like crying.

Of course he doesn’t cry. “Have you seen a spirit recently?” he asks instead, because really, that should take priority over his ripped up insides. “About this tall,” Lan Zhan’s eyes follow his vague hand gesture, “and really grim? You might recognize him, though it’s been a few –”

“Wen Zhuliu,” the other man says. “Yes. He was near when I found you. After you came back from Empathy...” There’s a pause, stagnant with more words that his beloved won’t say, and Wei Ying shifts restlessly, trying not to picture what pitiful state Lan Zhan had probably found him in. Trying not to remember the gut wrenching desperation in the voice that had called him back. “He disappeared when the connection broke. I’ve had the disciples preparing wards to ensure he cannot attack here.”

That distracts him. “The disciples? The – you brought some of the Lans? Who?”

An impassive expression. “Lan Jingyi, Lan Sizhui, Lan Feiyan, Lan Keung. Clan Leader Jin, who was visiting on Sect business, also demanded to come.”

“The kids? You brought the kids!?”

“Wei Ying.” For the first time since Wei Ying has woken up, Lan Zhan’s stone faced glower softens into something awfully close to amusement. “They are not children, despite your insistence on calling them as such.”

His hands flap dismissively. Semantics! “They’re younger than me,” he says by way of explanation, conveniently ignoring the fact that in some ways, he’s not truly much older than they are. “They’re also innocents! Defenseless idiots! How could you bring them into something like this?” If he had been on the sharp side of panic at the thought of Lan Zhan confronting Wen Zhuliu, that’s nothing compared to the gristly fear currently grinding up his insides at the prospect of the juniors being thrown into the mix. 

“It will be a learning experience,” Lan Zhan replies placidly. “Besides, I am here. Does Wei Ying think the Chief Cultivator is incapable of confronting this spirit? Of defending those he’s sworn to protect?” By the end of that, his voice has sharpened, and the very fact that he’s referring to himself by his title shows how upset he is.

“Of course not,” Wei Ying replies instantly. “If I had to choose anyone to be at my side, anyone at all, it would be you. It’s always you.” He leans forward as he says it, the truth of what he’s insisting stark in his eyes, and his lover doesn’t look away.

“Yet you chose to face this alone. You used Empathy alone, despite knowing how dangerous it is.”

Resisting the urge to wince, thankful that Lan Zhan is willing to speak about what’s hurting him and not bottle it up, Wei Ying smiles ruefully. “And that decision worked out so well. I’m… I might have made a mistake. A small one.”

“That almost got you killed.”

“But lucky for me, I have a handsome cultivator ready to swoop in to save me from demons and ghouls and such.” There’s no budge in his companion’s flat expression – not yet – and Wei Ying curbs his levity. “Ah, Lan Zhan, it’s not that I didn’t want you by me. It’s not that I didn’t think you could protect me from Wen Zhuliu. It’s just…” Lan Zhan is still watching him quietly, and he can’t help but reach out a hand, hopeful and yet a little breathless with apprehension, even after all this time.  

The other man doesn’t hesitate to entwine their fingers, and a second later he joins Wei Ying on the bed. Lan Zhan pulls their clasped hands into his lap, a seemingly unconscious gesture, as unconscious as the way he traces gentle lines across Wei Ying’s knuckles. “It’s just…” he prompts patiently, and gods, what did Wei Ying do to deserve such a man by his side? Perhaps he’d been a Saviour of the People in a previous life.

Not in this one, though. Shame creeps along his shoulders, making them hunch, and the raw vulnerability he feels, drawn out by Lan Zhan’s touch, is no less humiliating. Share his fear? Share his pain? Put yet another burden on the Chief Cultivator, as though Wei Ying deserves to be relieved of this weight? The urge to joke – to lie – wavers uneasily on his tongue.

But this, at least, is a habit Wei Ying has learned to restrain. For Lan Zhan, at least. “It’s just…” His free hand gropes along his sternum, like it could sink through his skin and cradle the pit of energy within. “I saw Jiang Cheng without his core, and I saw what it did to him. And when I gave my core to him...” He laughs, but the sound is hollow, and the smile he affixes to his lips is a reflex more than anything. “Lan Zhan, I know people called me a mad dog back then, but truly, sometimes, when I felt the emptiness inside me, well, they were not as wrong as they usually tended to be. I suppose even fools must be right once in a decade, hmm?” He laughs again and the sound rattles through the room before dying.

Lan Zhan is very, very still. He is not moving at all, except for his thumb, still stroking Wei Ying’s fingers. It is a stress response in reaction to grief and guilt for a tragedy long passed. It’s not a judgement. Wei Ying knows this, yet he still feels restless, restive, waiting for his lover to chide him for his thoughts and weakness. Deliberately careless retorts stack on his tongue, ready to topple off and dismiss what he just said, to reassure with a chuckle that the gouges in his soul are nothing.

Yet the man next to him does not offer a reproach. After a long moment, he just shifts, leans his shoulder lightly into Wei Ying. “You were afraid,” he observes quietly, and Wei Ying stiffens at the implication. Before he can argue, though, Lan Zhan shakes his head, a miniscule movement. “For me,” is his clarification.

Wei Ying is quick to agree to that as he relaxes. In his own way. This is swiftly becoming cloying, and he’s eager to move on. Not because he doesn’t want Lan Zhan to know he cares – that’s a battle he’s glad he lost more than a decade ago – but because there is pain in the tightness of his partner’s lips, and Wei Ying is so tired of this phantom ache that neither of them have healed. So… jokes.  

"What would we do if Wen Zhuliu took your core, and you couldn't cast the Silence Spell? I don’t know if our bond could survive the stress."

Lan Zhan does not laugh, or even smile. His intense stare might have been unsettling for someone else, and it had been unnerving for Wei Ying in a different time and place. Now, however, he basks in the attention, in the fierce devotion that inspires such a focus. "Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says, "I understand."  

As ever, he cuts straight to the heart of the matter, accepts without the need or desire to dwell on it. Before Wei Ying can be appropriately grateful for that forgiveness, the other man adds, "Next time, tell me. Whatever it is."

"Ah, Lan Zhan, I don't think we'll have the misfortune to meet two Wen Zhuliu ghosts in this lifetime."

A light furrow appears on his lover's forehead, and his posture, already immaculate, somehow becomes even straighter. "Wei Ying, promise me. Whatever it is next time, you'll tell me."

So the stare, as it turns out, can still be a bit unsettling for Wei Ying. He looks away, squirms in his seat and then makes to get up. Lan Zhan still has his hand, however, and the man's grasp is an anchor, forcing him to stay in place. "Wei Ying," he repeats, as close to an anxious entreaty as Lan Zhan ever gets.

Despite being a bit of an escape artist extraordinaire, the Yiling Patriarch is helpless to evade the sincerity of that plea. Huffing, he slouches back on to the bed and pouts. "Aish, fine. Next time I'll drag you with me to hell or wherever I end up."

It is a little bit ridiculous, how pleased the Chief Cultivator looks to be told such a thing. Wei Ying senses a shift in the room, a subtle loosening that means, once again, he’s been believed. Lan Zhan is not a simpleton, nor even particularly naïve, but he does have a tendency to think promises are not, in fact, made to be broken, and a habit of believing everyone else must think the same.       

Lan Zhan hums, whether in pleasure or conciliation, it's hard to say. Either way, the sharp lines of his face have softened, and the tension in his fingers has faded away. With a light snort, Wei Ying returns the pressure with his shoulder, the contact grounding him, letting the fear and guilt die down to a low flicker.

He still feels horrible, but at least it's only his body this time around.

"Speaking of our bond... I don't think it's quite strong enough to let you track me down. How'd you end up finding me?"

The smile is finally there, and Wei Ying had long ago learned to love the subtleties of that barely perceptible quirk, the slight tempering that so many people are likely to overlook.

Although he appreciates it slightly less when it’s at his expense.

“Lan Jingyi was to receive punishment for his actions during the Summer Recital of Values,” Lan Zhan explains calmly, as if that cleared up everything. Wei Ying truly doesn’t know how the young man had gathered so many butterflies, not to mention kept them concealed and unharmed until the moment he’d set them loose throughout the Chamber of Orchids, but he suspects there were accomplices. He also doesn’t know what the lecture-halting prank has to do with the Chief Cultivator finding him.

Seeing his befuddled pout, Lan Zhan’s smile grows by at least a millimeter. It’s dangerously close to being a smirk, now. Bastard. “Wei Ying encourages flexible punishments. I gave Lan Jingyi the choice between writing out the Values four hundred times, or keeping me appraised of your whereabouts and actions. He chose very quickly.”

Clutching dramatically at his chest, Wei Ying gasps, “You got him to spy on me? Isn’t that against the Lan Clan rules? What was the one… ‘Do not take part in dishonest practices.’”

“Be loyal,” Lan Zhan replies without hesitation. “Perform acts of chivalry. Believe sincerely.”

Wei Ying shakes his head. “Ah, Lan Zhan, I have been a bad influence. Lan Qiren would beat us both to hear you degrading the Values by actually thinking about their contradictions.”

The other man’s face loses some of its amusement, eyebrows furrowing in solemn contemplation, and Wei Ying has a moment to regret what was supposed to be a joke. However, Lan Zhan doesn’t seem upset. More softly than before, but more firmly too, the Chief Cultivator quotes, “Do not fail to carry out your promise.”

Their eyes meet, then, and Wei Ying thinks about a sky filled with floating lanterns, about hands clasped under his chin in fervent, naïve prayer. Of Lan Zhan, by his side even then. No regrets. "One of the Jades of Lan could not possibly fail at anything, let alone their promises," he jokes, but means it all the same. Lan Zhan might think differently, but the man has never failed him. Not on a mountain, or anywhere else.

That is not a path he wants to go down, however, so he draws himself up with officious huffiness. “Never mind. That brat has been tailing me? How could I not have noticed?”

“Lan Jingyi is very wily when motivated. Besides, I believe he has mostly followed your tracks, not your presence.”

Head cocking, finger going up to rub at his nose, Wei Ying stares narrowly at the Chief Cultivator. Lan Zhan gives nothing away, ghost of a smile still playing across his lips as he waits for Wei Ying to figure out what he means. Very smug. Very bastardly. And all in such an upright way, it’s impossible to challenge him on it.

Besides, Wei Ying’s attention is caught by the quandary. It takes a long moment, sorting through his mind what he’s done in the last month or so that could possibly count as tracks, but eventually it dawns on him. “The library. He asked Lan Kuan what scrolls I requested!”

A shallow nod is all the confirmation he needs, and he throws up his hands in disgust, ignoring the way it makes his head pulse with pain. He had spent weeks in the library, trying to determine where Wen Zhuliu’s former home was located, and, after he thought he'd figured it out, the best route to get there. He'd also familiarized himself with cases of non-aggressive hauntings, and situations where a cultivator's power continued even after death. It hadn’t occurred to him while researching that the old man who helped him wade through Cloud Recesses’ mountains of scrolls might tip off where he was going. “Aish! Lan Kuan, that doddering meddler!”

“Elder Lan Kuan is your senior, and a respected member of Gusu Lan Clan,” Lan Zhan says disapprovingly. He’s about to say more, no doubt a thrilling if stilted lecture about propriety and appropriate deference to the elderly, when they both hear something. A soft rustle at the screen doors, followed by a sharp inhale, more discrete rustling, and then silence.

Pointing at the door, Wei Ying grins. Anyone else would miss the way his lover inclines his head by just a little, but it’s all the benediction Wei Ying needs. Still smiling, maybe a trifle too evilly, he declares abruptly, “At any rate, Jingyi will pay! I’ll have spirits moan outside his bedroom for a month, at least!”

There’s a pause as Lan Zhan decides whether he actually wants to participate, and then the Chief Cultivator blandly comments, “That would be disruptive to the other disciples.”

“Then I’ll make him eat congee for weeks! Let’s see him spy on me when there’s a hole through his tongue!”  

It’s impossible to say if his learning-to-be-lenient lover would have continued the prank, because there’s a yelp from behind the door, followed by someone else’s wordless protest.

“You lunatic! Don’t you dare!” The exclamation comes as the screen is violently slid open, and three people are revealed, two latched on to the other’s white robes and trying to drag him away. Jingyi won’t be held back, however, and he points accusingly at Wei Ying. "Eating your cooking is a worse punishment than copying the Values ten thousand times!"

While Wei Ying gasps in affront like such a comment could actually wound him, Jingyi spins around. "Hanguang Jun," he says in desperate appeal, "I was just doing what you asked. Don't let this lunatic get me!"

Meanwhile, the two people who had tried to stop him from entering the room have relinquished their grip on his robe and now stand in sheepish silence. Lan Sizhui looks properly remorseful for the spying and interruption – and probably feels that way, too – while Jin Ling is just embarrassed and, to judge from his expression, getting sullen about it.

The Hanguang Jun in question hardly looks at the trio, just rises from the bed and puts his arm behind his back with elegant grace. He says nothing and, with the light from the window shining on his perfect form, accentuating the pale blue designs on his white inner robe, he looks like a god removed from them all. Stern, implacable, and hugely unimpressed with the shenanigans of mortals.

Of course, from where he's standing, Wei Ying can just make out a quirk of oh-so-pretty lips, and he rather suspects the reason Hanguang Jun isn't looking at the kids is to avoid any of them noticing his amusement.

"Hanguang Jun, we are sorry. We were coming to report that we've finished our preparations, and we heard you talking and didn't want to interrupt, so..." Sizhui's voice isn't meek or cringing; it's the steady cadence of a man admitting to his wrong.

Or Wei Ying is just a bit biased when it comes to the disciple.

Jin Ling lifts his chin. "Does Gusu Lan Sect own this inn, huh? Why shouldn't we go where we choose?"

"Be polite," Sizhui mutters, which just goes to show that Jin Ling's elevation to Clan Leader didn't destroy the bonds between them; the ever-polite Lan disciple wouldn't have chided a leader otherwise.

With a scowl, Jin Ling is about to reply with something no doubt unflattering, but Wei Ying cuts in. "You mean you choose to lurk in hallways, Jin Ling? Very strange."

The younger man flushes, but it's Lan Zhan's turn to interrupt. "Sizhui. Everything is prepared?"

"Ah, yes, Hanguang Jun. We've assembled the wards and created a watch schedule. The others are downstairs, making final preparations." So, in Wei Ying’s experience, they’re taking the opportunity to goof off away from Lan Zhan’s somber eyes. As much as Lan Clan disciples ever goof off.  

"I still don't see why we're bothering to ward against some random spirit," Jingyi mumbles, probably not purposefully loudly enough for them all to hear. Jin Ling bobs his head in agreement.

Lan Zhan is unmoved, and starting to get serious. "Wei Ying was harmed by it. That is reason enough." Still, his lover's eyes flicker over to Wei Ying, and for Lan Zhan that might as well be a scream of curiosity. Of course, the Chief Cultivator had been too disciplined – and kind – to jump all over him with questions when Wei Ying first woke up, but it's obvious the questions haven't been far from the front of his mind.

Given that his plan to keep them all safe and in the dark has failed so spectacularly, he has no reason to withhold this information now. “That ‘random spirit’ is Wen Zhuliu,” Wei Ying begins. He expects to have to explain further, about who Wen Zhuliu is and why it matters, and is rather taken aback when all three young disciples jump at his name, exchanging looks of trepidation.

“The Wen Zhuliu?” Jin Ling demands, while Jingyi yelps, “Core Melting Hand?”

Is he ever going to stop being surprised that the things so long gone – the things he lived through – are all but revered as legends now? Including the villains?

Especially the villains, he tells himself playfully. You know better than most how much people like a devil.

Waving a hand, dismissing their concerns, Wei Ying replies, “The very same. I assume Lan Zhan told you I was attempting Empathy before my… uh, nap?” Their blank expressions reassure him that the Chief Cultivator had told them no such thing. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing well enough that the more anxious Lan Zhan was, the more he tended to close up, to communicate only what was directly and immediately relevant. It had probably genuinely not occurred to him to let the disciples know what was going on beyond direct orders.

“Well, I was. Wen Zhuliu was skulking around Cloud Recesses for several weeks, and I couldn’t get him to talk to me. So…” His haphazard gesture is meant to indicate everything that’s happened since then.

Apparently it’s not quite enough for any of them. “For weeks!?” Jingyi looks like he’s picturing rounding a corner in Cloud Recesses and running straight into the imposing spirit. “Why was he there!?”

“And why are you here now?” Jin Ling asks.

More tactful but still confused, Sizhui adds, “And forgive me, Master Wei, but why didn’t you say anything?”

Under the onslaught of questions, he can feel his headache surging, but Wei Ying pushes it back and grins. He struggles with some things, but performing under pressure is not one of them. “So demanding! Well, let’s see…” He’s about to start twirling Chenqing when he realizes the flute isn’t tucked into his belt. Now discomfort does writhe in his chest, and he fumbles at his robes like the instrument might be hidden there. Had it been left at Suntouched Sanctuary? Before he can become more alarmed, Lan Zhan moves forward. Chenqing is in his hand.

Wordlessly, the other man hands it over. With a grateful smile, Wei Ying takes it, the wood comforting under his agitated fingers. He doesn’t know why, but this item – this flute, out of everything he’s ever owned – connects him most to… who he is. Reminds him, when it feels like he’s forgetting.

And he forgets so often.

Whirling Chenqing, perhaps too wildly, Wei Ying resets himself. “As I was saying. He was there to find me. He couldn’t contact me, because…” That still wasn’t entirely clear. Slowly, tasting the words to see how they sound, his gaze drifting over to Lan Zhan to include the cultivator in the speculation, he continues. “There are powerful wards up in Cloud Recesses to dampen ghostly presences. Maybe they stopped him.” Which wouldn’t explain why he hadn’t reached out when Wei Ying had left the wards at the beginning of his trip.

“Resentment, too,” Lan Zhan offers, understanding the gap in the explanation.

Wei Ying considers that, then nods. It made sense.

“What do you mean?” Jingyi asks, bold despite the Chief Cultivator’s presence, and the other disciples crowd closer, too, eager to hear the response.

“What are ghosts made of?” Wei Ying replies, grinning at the mingled exasperation and resignation on the faces of his pupils. They well know his preferred teaching style, and how unlikely he is to give them a straight answer.

Sizhui is the first to respond. “Energy.”

“What kind?”

“Resentful!” That from Jin Ling. The Clan Leader announces it like he’s challenging Wei Ying to call him wrong, and it’s almost painfully reminiscent of Jiang Cheng’s belligerent forcefulness. Still, even now, Wei Ying has to wonder if Jin Ling realizes just how much he takes after his uncle – and how much of a blessing that really is.

Mostly a blessing.

“Often resentful, yes. Good!” Beginning to pace around the room, Wei Ying notes his nephew’s quickly stifled pride with inward amusement. “Not always, but often. Particularly when a person is murdered. And what does the culmination of resentful energy cause?”

Jin Ling is blank, which is understandable. Neither the Jiang nor Jin Sects specialize in suppressing ghosts. Sizhui, on the other hand, is quick to reply. “Distorted personalities, mindless rage, and increased aggression.”

“Precisely! So, Wen Zhuliu did not immediately reach out to me after I left Cloud Recesses because…”

This time there is a pause, but it feels more awkward than uncertain. Jinyi is the one to break the silence. “Because Wen Zhuliu hates you for your part in his murder, and that conflicted with whatever he desired to contact you about. So he didn’t attack you, but he couldn’t connect, either. The resentful energy was too strong.”

Wei Ying positively beams, ignoring the awkwardness. Technically speaking, Wen Zhuliu was murdered, so he doesn’t find it an inept description, despite the children being reluctant to describe it as such. “Ah, Lan Zhan, aren’t these students too bright? Who could have taught them so well?”

When he looks meaningfully at the Chief Cultivator, Lan Zhan lets the silence grow before he answers. “I don’t know.” For him, almost a joke. At Wei Ying’s expense.

With an affronted gasp, Wei Ying points Chenqing at his partner. “You lie! Who but a cultivator of renown, of talent, of brilliance, could have taught them so much? A handsome cultivator with a keen mind, a sense of righteousness, a bottomless fount of knowledge, a desirable face and–”

“Wei Ying.”

Though Lan Zhan says it as an interruption, Wei Ying chooses to interpret it differently. “Ah! Lan Zhan, you flatter me. Such kindness from the Chief Cultivator! But of course, I wasn’t referring to myself.” He winks outrageously, and the barest hint of a flush creeps up Lan Zhan’s cheeks, though he doesn’t reply.

Flipping Chenqing with a flamboyant flourish, satisfied as ever to catch his lover a little off guard, Wei Ying snags the flute out of the air and turns his attention back to the disciples.

Who are currently struggling to contain their amusement at seeing the Chief Cultivator teased. For all that Lan Zhan has, in his own way, relaxed as the years have gone on, that has assuredly not included encouraging others to badger him. Wei Ying tells himself it’s good for the stately cultivator, and it’s definitely good for Wei Ying himself, so…

“So, you well trained trio, why did I go to Suntouched Sanctuary?” A slightly unfair question, if Lan Zhan hasn’t given them all the information, but he isn’t destined to be disappointed today.

“You were researching Wen descendants and the subsidiary Clans at the library!” Jingyi pipes up, only to snap his mouth shut as Wei Ying side-eyes him at the reminder of just who had been spying on him.

Probably to save his friend, Sizhui rushes to fill the gap. “So you found Wen Zhuliu belonged to the Clan who called Suntouched Sanctuary home?”

Relenting his glare, Wei Ying nods. “Mhm. The Zhao Yu Clan lived in Suntouched Sanctuary before the Sunshot Campaign. Empathy with Wen Zhuliu confirmed it; I saw him with… some others from the Clan.” When he says it, his voice changes. Becomes quieter, and Wei Ying is powerless to stop the sorrow that seeps into the words.

He doesn’t want it. Wants to reject the emotion with a vehemence that’s just short of acidic. He’s been avoiding thinking of what Empathy showed ever since he woke up; filled the space in his head with Lan Zhan and the disciples and questions so much easier to answer than the state of his own soul. What does he owe those dead people he never met, strolling through their garden on that sunny day? What does he owe Wen Zhuliu’s Jiaying, with her firm shoulders and growing belly, with her supportive words and eyes so afraid of losing love?

What can he owe her, when she is dead and gone like so many others?

Lan Zhan heard the change and he’s now at Wei Ying’s side, eyes drifting to the floor but senses acutely trained on his partner. Wei Ying knows, can feel, how intently Lan Zhan is focused on him, ready to offer assistance at the slightest word or gesture. Falling into that quiet support, letting it take the weight of his decades-long fatigue, if only for a moment, is a relief he can’t begin to put words to. Not in a way that would do it justice, anyways.

“Is there any alcohol?” he asks, and of course there is, because Lan Zhan foresaw that particular need.  

Though he could order the disciples to do it, the Chief Cultivator strides over to the side table, swipes up two of the jars resting there. Then he is back at Wei Ying’s side, offering the liquid like he’s offering something else. Because, of course, he is.

Wei Ying accepts the drink gratefully, swallows deep and long. Not as good as the Emperor’s Smile, but it does the trick nonetheless, the mild burn tracing down his throat and soothing the pain of far more caustic emotions. By the time he pulls the empty jar from his lips, it’s taken the sting of haunted defensiveness from his thoughts. Not the alcohol itself – after all, Wei Ying is a first class drinker, and one glass is not anywhere near enough to get him drunk – but the familiarity of the motion, of the taste. It brings him memories, and he grounds himself in the sensation of the tart liquor slipping over his tongue.

The disciples are waiting patiently and without surprise. They know his drinking habits well enough – and more than his drinking habits, he is ashamed to admit. Unstopping the second jar but holding off from drinking more just yet, Wei Ying gathers himself. Another reset. He’s no longer in the mood for the question and answer game, as much joy as it usually gives him.

“At a place with strong emotional resonance such as Suntouched Sanctuary, Wen Zhuliu was able to break through the resentment, to reach out to me.” He doesn’t feel like mentioning the way he’d made his target’s resentment surge first. Doesn’t want to talk about the spirit Wen Zhuliu had ripped apart, doesn’t feel like speculating about who they were, who they had been to Core Melting Hand to shatter his fury like they had. Doesn’t want to admit to yet another murder, for all that he hadn’t held the cutting – melting – weapon.

He’ll tell Lan Zhan. Some night, when the candles are out and their bodies speak truths their throats find hard to say, he’ll tell him. But not today.

Tight-lipped, Wei Ying forces a smile. “However, the barriers were not completely gone,” specifically, his barriers, “so I decided to use Empathy to try to understand him more.”

“By yourself,” Sizhui says, and it’s such an echo of Lan Zhan’s disapproval that he has to laugh.

“By myself. It turned out fine.”

Jin Ling snorts. “You tell us all the time that it’s horribly dangerous to do Empathy alone, and then go ahead and do it by yourself anyways.”

With a light shrug, Wei Ying takes a swig out of the jar. “Do as I say, not as I do.” Smacking his lips to drown out Jinyi and Jin Ling’s protests, he waves off their affront. “At any rate, I learned much.” Much more than he’d wanted to, in fact. “Namely, how to get Wen Zhuliu to stop skulking around. He’s looking for someone.”

“To kill them?” Jinyi asks. He and Ouyang Zizhen both have a penchant for the melodramatic.

“No. They were… taken from him. He wants to find them.”

“Who are they?” Trust Lan Zhan to speak and ask the only question that matters. Well, one of two questions that matter.

There’s a tightness in his shoulders that no amount of drink will ease. Why can’t he get the warm feeling out of his chest, the one that Wen Zhuliu had clutched at so desperately when he was searching for her? It’s not his feeling, he doesn’t want it, doesn’t want anything to do with it.

He forces his mouth not to caress the name. “Mingxia. His daughter.”

The juniors react to that with the expected level of shock. Amid the yelps and rush of speculation, though, Wei Ying doesn’t look at the youngsters. His gaze searches out Lan Zhan’s eyes, and when he finds those dark expanses, he can tell the Chief Cultivator is disturbed. There’s a furrow across his brow, and he’s leaning forward just slightly. Is he thinking about that night, when he’d allowed Jiang Cheng’s Zidian to take one life, and had permitted the brothers to take another life after a great deal of pain and screaming? Or is he remembering the many Wens and Wen supporters he’s killed, cultivators all and none defenseless, but belonging to a family nonetheless?

Or is that just Wei Ying, inserting his own guilt into the honorable man?

Jiaying is probably dead. How else could Mingxia have ended up alone, and in such desperate straits? But how had she died? What had happened from the time Wen Zhuliu left the garden, certain he would see his wife again, to this very day?

What had happened, besides Wen Zhuliu being murdered, along with the man he’d sworn to protect?

Wei Ying thinks, if it had just been the two of them, Lan Zhan would have reached out by now. He would have gladly accepted his lover’s touch, gratefully pressed his face against his strong shoulder and hidden from the world. If only for a moment.  

Alas. They’ve an audience.

Interrupting the excited flurry of words between the disciples, Wei Ying says, “If we recover her, Wen Zhuli will probably stop bothering me.” Or at least his ghost will. The memories… well, some things are better at haunting than even ghosts.

“But who took her? Did you see through Empathy?” That from Sizhui, and is it any surprise he asked the second important question?

Wei Ying spreads his hands in a hapless gesture (after finishing chugging the second jar). “I didn’t see enough to be sure. But I think I know who’ll have an idea where to start.”

Jin Ling frowns, exchanging confused glances with his friends, but Lan Zhan’s mouth has thinned. He suspects he knows who Wei Ying is talking about, and he’s not sure if he’s pleased about it. Wei Ying sympathizes.

He smiles anyways. At least the man is interesting. “What do you say?” he asks the Chief Cultivator playfully. “How do you feel about visiting our old friend Huaisang?”  

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 13

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, some smutty thoughts... 

w/c: 2.2k

A/N: Lucky number 13! I’m honestly so caught off gaurd by all the love Ive been receiving on The Winter Ghost. I see all your late night binge sessions and I am SO immensely greatful for your interest. When I first started writing this I didnt really think anything of it, but youve all lit a fire under my ass and for that, I thank you! So please, enjoy and reblog and like if you feel so inclined. 

His hot breath fanned across your face, sending you into a frenzy like state you had never known before. Heavy breathing, mostly on your part as he placed excruciatingly slow kisses across your jaw. You needed him. More than you’d ever needed anything in your life. It made you sick. 

“Are you afraid?” He asked in a low seductive voice. Swiftly he wrapped his metal fingers around your throat, applying enough pressure to make you gasp. You clawed at his chest, drunk on his murderous touch. You wanted him to make you hurt as bad as your heart did. You couldn't possibly hate a person more than you hated yourself right now. 

“Answer my question.” He shouted, sending a ripple of ecstasy through your body. 

“No. I could never,” You gasped, choking as the walls of your throat began to collapse. 

“Liar.” He sneered. 

You let out an involuntary moan. 

“You good, Y/n?” Sam asked, sitting next to you on the couch as he, Nat, Wanda and Shuri all ate breakfast around the kitchen island. Your hand was lightly wrapped around your neck where Bucky’s was just a moment ago. 

“Yeah, fine.” You squeeked.

But you weren't. You hadn’t been since that morning in the hallway with Bucky. You could still feel the sting he had left behind from his touch. What was wrong with you? You couldn't even begin to unpack that question. Psychiatric help would be a start, though. 

After your memory had returned, the nightmares seemed to subside, only to be replaced with the image of Bucky, devoid of all emotion, seething in rage at your quips. By the third night, you would have gladly have traded, knowing that this was so much worse. 

You couldn't keep excusing your vile thoughts as his fault. They weren't, not entirely. You were the one waking up a needy mess every morning.

“Hey.” Bucky's husky voice filled your senses causing you to stiffen at the sound. The team around you said their hello’s while you tried to refrain from gawking. You had done your very best to avoid him as much as you could, but there were only so many places to hide. Whenever you bumped into each other he would keep his head down and you would run in either direction.

“Steve’s on his way back today. He left to meet Vision and gather intel on an active Hydra base located somewhere on the border of Germany.” Wanda’s eyes lit up at the mention of the name. This must be the famous Android she's always gushing about.  

“Pack up… We ship out first thing tomorrow morning.” Bucky declared, peaking your interest. It had been way too long since you had been back in the field, this was amazing. You could feel the excitement bubbling out of your chest vanish when Bucky’s eyes glanced at you. 

“Y/n, you can uh, keep Shuri company while we're away.” You blinked at him, unsure if you had heard him correctly. 

“No fucking way.” You scoffed. You were not missing out on this opportunity to give Hydra a taste of their own ‘serum’, so to speak. 

‘Captain's orders.” He deadpanned, averting his gaze to the ceiling. You stared at him, lost for words with needy eyes. He’d never tell you, but it terrified him when you looked like that. Small, fragile, though he knew better. He would kill himself before he tainted you. But that didn't make the idea any less intriguing.

“And since when do you listen to Captain's orders?” Nat spoke up before you even got the chance. You nodded violently, looking back to Bucky who only sighed. 

“You know very well why she can't go.” He muttered, fighting tooth and nail not to look at you again. You could sense his uncomfortability but you couldn't look away. 

“She’s not going, then I’m not going.” Wanda sulked. 

“Me too.” Sam mocked her tone. “Seriously, Buck. She’s a tank, we could use her.” He finished, more serious this time. 

Bucky huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his flesh fingers. “You gotta take that up with Steve. He and I aren't really on the best of terms right now.” He spoke, annoyance dripping from the last sentence. 

“Easy, I’ll take care of it.” Nat said to Bucky, but she sent a wink at you. 

You were so excited you almost leaped from your seat. You couldn't wait to blow some shit up!

……………………………………….

The next morning you woke up extra early, just to get a jump on everything. Nat had fought with Steve all last night, but eventually he conceded on the sheer fact that if you were there, it would mean double the Wanda power. This was a big base, one he had known of for quite some time now, but it required extra attention. They had been working on recreating your serum, but so far to no avail. You knew exactly where they were going wrong of course. But Steve explained they had been testing it out of Hydra members. The lucky few who survived may not have your powers, but they were still strong. He’d need all the help he could get.

After you were packed you dragged your duffle to Shuri’s lab. She had been working on a few new weapons she wanted you to pack. Just in case, she said. You got there in no time flat, literally vibrating with excitement. 

“You're sure about this?” She asked. 

“Absolutely.” You beamed. She signed, and handed you a small ring. 

“What's this?” You asked, holding the small band in your fingers. 

“It’s a beacon. It will help you hold onto your borrowed energies for longer. It’s like a mini you, only better.” She paused, “Speaking of, are you going to tell me what's in that serum of yours or am I just going to have to keep guessing?”

“I think it’s better kept unsaid. That thing had already caused enough problems. No one should be burdened with it.”

“Maybe so.” She signed.

“Thank you Shuri. For everything.” You half heartedly smiled but before you could leave her arms were around you, pulling you into a hug. You sucked in a breath and tapped her on the back in reciprocation. Physically affection was never something you were good at showing, try as you may. 

When you finally pulled away she sent you a soft smile, and wished you good luck on the mission before you headed out the door. 

……………………..

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence.” Steve muttered, when you finally got to the jet when the rest of the team was loading up.

“It is, isn't it?” You spoke sweetly, throwing your duffle onto the jet. You still weren't really sure where you stood with Steve. Of course you knew of the famous Captain America, even if you didn't remember a few weeks ago. But never did you imagine he would be such a class act dick. Or maybe he was just that way with you? The idea made you smirk, knowing you were the only one to really piss off the Captain was honestly the highest form of flattery. 

You boarded the jet and noticed the rest if the team already suited up. The tactical gear Shuri had made you was tight, and Natasha was living proof of that. I mean, it wasn't fair she had the body of a trained ballerina and New York supermodel. The woman was easily the most beautiful woman you had ever seen while your gear clung to you in all the least flattering ways. 

You quickly shook off the self doubt. It didn't matter how you looked, you were here to kick some ass. 

Well, not exactly. 

That morning Steve had announced that while the rest of the team ‘kicked ass’ you and the Soviet spy would sneak into their mainframe and collect the data of whatever new evil scheme Hydra was working on. 

Though you weren't thrilled to be stuck on recon duty, it was better than nothing. Besides, you were just a little rusty. Though Nat and Sam kept you busy and Wanda had taught you all her tricks, you weren't sure that if it came down to it you'd be able to pull the trigger. 

Better safe than sorry. 

“Are you nervous?” Bucky spoke under his breath, his voice deep and rough. You shivered at the sound. You hadn't realised until this moment that he was seated directly behind you. 

“Are you?” You asked. You tried to add some bite to your words, but they left your lips softly. The tone seemed to surprise Bucky as much as it did you as he half expected to to tear his head off again.

“Sometimes. But, not now.”

“Oh yeah?” Words betraying you once again. 

Ignore him. 

Stop talking to him. 

Stop. Talking. 

Bucky's tongue slipped from between his lips, tugging on his bottom one slowly and effectively knocking you back from your annoying thought and to the glorious man sitting behind you. 

“Yeah. Got this new girl on our side. She’s a totally badass. I know she’ll watch my six.” He shrugged causing a small smile to pull at the corner of your mouth. 

“How do you know she won't just leave you for dead?” She asked, playing along. Part of you, however, was just a little curious. Part of you wanted to ask yourself the same question. In a second, would you protect the man who murdered Tommy? Honestly you weren't really sure. 

“Just a feeling.” He spoke so casually. So sure, you wanted to believe him. It would be easy enough to feed him to Hydra, but you and him both knew you wouldn't have the stomach for it. 

“Huh. You sound pretty confident in that.” You sneered sarcastically.

He just gave you a small shrug, leaning back into his seat and pulling his bluetooth earbuds out of his back pocket. He offered one to you casually. Before you could protest your arm shot out and took it, placing it in your right ear. 

“I like to listen to music before a mission. It calms me.” He suggested, opening his phone, scrolling through his songs before the intro to Highway to Hell began playing. 

A grin spread across your face “I love this song!” You beamed. 

“I know. I remember you telling me something about spending an entire year listening to AC/DC cause’ your dad loved their music. I downloaded a few of their albums after that. Not exactly what I’m used to, but definitely good ass kicking music.” He nodded. 

That stopped you dead in your tracks. You couldn't help the smile that faded quickly from your lips at his words. You were, to say the least, shocked. You must have mentioned your love for the band at some point, but honestly couldn't for the life of you remember when.  

But he did. And he listened to it because you liked them. 

“Huh.” You repeated, turning back around and trying to suppress the butterflies that began erupting out of your stomach. You could hear Bucky behind you drumming his hands on his thighs along to the song. You couldn't help but giggle at how offbeat he was.

“Take off in five minutes. Everyone ready?” Nat spoke through your coms. Everyone gave a thumb up as the jets engine whirled on, vibrating through the aircraft.

You listened carefully as your song faded away and the next one took its place. 

Do I wanna know? If this feeling flows both ways?

You could physically feel Bucky’s mood shift behind you. The Super Soldier serum granting you access to his quickened heart beat and the lyrics mirrored the every present emotions you had been feeling this week.

Sad to see you go. Was sorta’ hopin’ that you’d stay. 

You let your mind wander as you listened to Bucky hum along quietly to the song, low and soft. The sound sending chills down your spine as the memory of your dreams from the past few nights replayed over in your mind. 

Baby, we both know. That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day.

Bucky’s lips trailed along your swollen throat, the feeling of pleasure over bruises he had left behind caused you to moan in ecstasy. The way he kissed you, not like before. This time full of lust and something dark. His hands dipped under your shirt, the feeling of hot and cold sending you over the edge as your eyes rolled back in your head. You wanted nothing more than for him to throw you against a wall, any wall and tear you limb from limb.

“I like this song too.” Bucky’s breath fanned across the back of your ear, rocketing you back to the Jet that was beginning to take off. You looked around the small space, praying that Bucky was the only one to notice your breath hitch in the back of your throat. 

Any reminisce of the idea that you had to stay away from Bucky shattered into a million pieces. The hate, still ever present, but you knew damn well that would be the best part. It only fueled your desire. He was going to be the death of you.

Or even better, you'd be the death of him...

.....................................................................................................................

A/N: Gah! Thank you for reading! And thank you to @cutie1365​ for being the best hype woman/ editor around lol. Leave a like or reblog if you wanna show some love. I hope yall’ are having a great week! 

@kalesrebellion​

@projectcampbell​

@calwitch​

[guillermomo]

Live reaction for season 3 episode 8 (major spoilers)

Love Guillermo saying creepy paper, playing an instrument that looks like bagpipes. I love that outfit, very orange

New intro music????? I'm guessing it's Farsi? Fuck yeah!!!

The Guide taking part in the celebration too, does she just live there now??

Omg the puppet gift, why are the puppets in a nest. (LOVE NEST) Guillermo puppet has beady little eyes

Colin as a belly dancer, jesus christ

Not even Colin goes to bother Nandor when he's upset ahh

Oh no everyone avoiding him...

It seems like some new letters were added to Guillermos picture board, there's one with a butterfly, or maybe I just missed it before

*Gay little Gasp* "Nandor's in crisis"

Love Nadja trying her best to cheer him up, especially after her own feelings of unimportance in the last episode

Ooh Nandors so grumpy

Wellness Vampires... a concept

The bean bags... the synchronized smiles... Nandor this is a cult

Actually this is like an evangelical church

oh my god she removed her teeth... fucking hell Jan. Oh no they all have

Was that Michael Jackson on the wall of ex-vampires..?

She can drink water... yeah no she's vomitting the water lmao

He's not going down easy though, Nandor knows a trap.

Takes a candle with him, priorities.

Okay he's just horny again, that would explain him bypassing his fragile skepticism, i did see his eyes flicker when Jan went back to her desk

"Knoblord" thank you Laszlo for your endless supply of vaguely british insults

Oooooh Guillermo holding onto the bag and not letting go, fuck me

Oh my god.. Guillermo youre free, go baby go

"Ive been trying to find happiness too!"

Guillermo smiled but even he knew it wasnt for real. You can see the second his heart breaks

"IVE GROWN TO HAVE SOME AFFECTION FOR YOU"

"AND I FOR YOU" "Well obviously"

(Wwdits writers... you want to mirror this later on sooooo bad)

"Vampirism is a curse and I care for you too much to burden you with that. Boop. There's that smile " just end me.

Guillermo crying fuuuuck. I think this is the first time they're physically eye to eye given Guillermo is on the step. God. Poetic cinema.

Nandor left for a month omg...

Guillermo in total grey clothing... plain grey with no patterns. That says so much.

Holding the puppet to sleep.. he thinks this is payback for him leaving???? What are you ON my love. Why are you still here???

Ummm hip thrusts 👀

Nandors human clothes, theyre so cute and colourful. His skin looks darker, his hair... oh no. Well its growing on me I want to ruffle it.

Rips out their fangs every night, how brutal.

I wonder if the smile lesson will help Nandor interpret peoples emotions better

Guillermo being in denial still like "im going to check on him but not because i need to but because i need to"

Colin fart scent marking things is... a writers choice

Nandors little cheeky grin... smile lessons paid off

Guillermo really knows how to start but not how to finish a fight huh, almost like this was an impulsive, unplanned, thing for him to do. Completely loses his confidence lmaoooo

Hissing isnt a fang thing, huh

Yes yes yes see your bodyguard fighting!!! Its kinda weird to see Nandor be so passive

Accidentally hold Nandor's hand during your adrenaline fueled escape my man

"You need to chillax my friend!!"

How long is Nandor going to avoid using his powers for? He could easily have escaped Guillermo. Hm. Maybe he doesnt want to...

Hula hoop weaponry

"Pretty gosh darn human"

I wonder what made Nandor happy those decades ago..? The macarena probably. He wants to feel useful and powerful... baby. And Guillermo looking at him like "oh so being a vampire means I'll still feel powerless and like I don't belong" maybe being a vampire really isnt his end game, which sucks because he DESERVES to drink the blood of his enemies at least for a century.

The little smirk, Guillermo you dog

How the turn tables turn tables Nandy!!!

Ah Jan take lessons of tax evasion from Guillermo

[mementomori-demimonde]

Hidden Scars

I - II - III - IV

Chapter 5

You blink rapidly at the string of codes you’re trying to memorize from the book. It’s been over four hours now and nothing makes sense anymore. For as much as you loathe to admit it, the days where she decides that physical training is needed are much more entertaining than the ones in which she places a volume in your lap and tells you to study and train your brain, instead.

Today has been one of those days and you’re almost bored out of your mind.

So when you hear footsteps approaching, you already know what that means - the digital clock above the shelf only confirms your supposition - and a sense of relief starts to spread through your tired body.

“Enough.” Miranda whispers.

You manage to not expose your eagerness by pretending you’re just obeying her order, and you gladly close the book producing a loud, and utterly satisfying thump.

When you look up, she offers you the usual evening drink. You know you can’t refuse it, so to obediently take it from her hand and gulp it down in one go.

Immediately, the liquor burns your throat and your tongue goes numb for a second while the dizziness settles in your head.

You close your eyes, barely registering Miranda snatching the empty glass from your hand to put it on the coffee table, and you begin to rub at your temples slowly - you’ve noticed it helps with the throbbing a couple of mysterious mixes ago, and there’s no harm in trying.

Leaning on the couch, you throw your head back and rest it on the cushion, hypnotized by the dozens of dancing colorful dots swirling behind your eyelids.

You still when you feel the book being pushed off from your lap, and its almost inconsistent weight being replaced by a much more significant one.

When you trust your head to have stopped spinning and you deem the nausea almost extinguished - or at least unable to cause any damage - you dare to peer down. Two bright, predator blue eyes are peering up from your lap, bare teeth flashing at you with a playful yet dangerous smirk.

You would smile at her for the intimacy of the situation, you would even dare to touch her hair and marvel at the apparent calmness of her, right now, but you know better to do either of those things: Miranda is like a cat. She might look like she’s demanding pets and cuddles one minute - simply because she feels like it - only to slash at your flesh with rogue claws and sharp teeth the next - simply for the sake of it - and quite literally too.

Exhaling heavily from your nostrils, you loll your head back and let your eyelids flutter close again, throwing your arm over your face and hiding in the inside of your bent elbow.

“Miranda, what are we doing?” You didn’t mean to sound so whining, but you did. Knowing how she usually reacts to it, you’re painfully aware you’ve probably made her mad already, so you don’t dare to move your arm and see the expression on her face.

“About what?” She inquires, her voice emotionless.

“I don’t know.” You scoff. “About this, perhaps.” Blindly, you reach down your thigh and retrieve your knife. It’s yours by now and fits perfectly in your hand, it’s been a while since you’ve learned to spin it around your fingers, its weight perfectly balanced with each move.

“You’re pretty in it.” Miranda purrs, echoing herself from the first time she ever put it on you. “Why shouldn’t a girl own a knife and know how to use it?” She snatches it from your hand, but you don’t dare to look, so you don’t know what she’s done with it.

“About this, then.” You sigh, nudging at the book on the carpet with your toes, making it slide across the bristle, the soft rustle invading the silence.

“A trained mind is even prettier on a girl.” Miranda replies, pushing the nape of her neck on your crotch when she readjusts to lay more comfortably.

When you feel her exhale, you imagine she’s closed her eyes. Swallowing, you tentatively unpeel the arm from your face and look down - you were right: her eyes are closed. She almost looks peaceful, relaxed. It’s so wild to know it’s the same wild beast who beat you up several times, slashed your shoulder with her initial, and yet…

“Well?” Miranda cracks an eye open, exhales annoyedly from her nose, “Do go on with your little list, I'm having fun.”

You barely resist the urge of rolling your eyes.

“What about this?” You exhale finally, gesturing your own head with a circular motion of your forefinger, tracing an imaginary aureole, and just to be sure she’s understood, your eyes drift and fix on the empty glass on the table.

“You’ll thank me one day.” She says, shrugging, then closes her eyes again, releasing a long breath, and folds her hand over her stomach.

The shirt she’s wearing has slightly risen up and the small scar on the otherwise flawless, flat expanse of her abdomen is plainly visible. Despite it being your first time stitching up somebody, you congratulate yourself for the work and like a river in full, memories flood in your head - the first time you felt her closer, vulnerable, exposed… reachable even; the first time you believed there was more of her under the thick layer of gratuitous sadism. It was from that moment she has shown that, in fact, there was. Sometimes she showed more, some others she revealed less - there were days where you thought you’d breached through her only to find her so distant, the next, that she was almost unrecognizable. One step closer, a thousand back. A constant chase and you never felt out of breath, not even once. Disappointed, maybe, but never tired.

In fact, there’s another point on your list, perhaps the most important one, but you cannot bring yourself to voice it: gesturing at the both of you would open a discussion you don’t want to make - one that you’re not yet ready to make - because you fear what the outcome might be. But you would, if only you owned more courage, you would look down at Miranda while she’s still resting her head in your lap without a care in the world, you would point out how easy and relaxing this feels even though you don’t have the faintest idea of what, exactly, this is. Asking directly would probably earn you some rough punishment you’re not in the mood to endure, so you opt for something in general, well knowing the actual implication about the two of you won’t be caught or simply glossed over.

“I’m doing all this for a reason, I’d like to know what it is.”

“To please me?” She’s all cheeks while she says that. The dimple next to the corner of her mouth making her appearance and tugging, unconsciously, at something within you - something warm and foreign that, you know, you shouldn’t feel right now.

It’s the last thing you would like to do, letting her get away with that reply, but you can’t help yourself, nor the throaty giggle that escapes your lips.

“Miranda.” It should be a warning, but it serves little to its purpose. You gulp down and find your seriousness back, hoping that you haven’t ruined the tense mood and jeopardize the only, thin chance you had. “Miranda, tell me.”

There’s a slight shift in her demeanor, but after observing her so closely for so much, you notice it right away: the folded arms on her stomach are not just laying there anymore, the muscles are twitching under her freckled skin.

“It doesn’t matter.” She snarls, and you can see her struggling to hide the bite from her words. “What matters is that you need to be ready.” She states.

“Ready for what?” You ask then, your prolonged sigh exasperated.

“Stop.” She replies calmly, but the vibrating danger lies beneath. “The world I live in is dangerous, and knowledge is a double-edged sword.”

“How is that relevant?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest, keeping your elbows high enough not to hit her square in the face. “You never even let me out of this place.”

“And I won’t. You are safer here.”

Now you can see her jaw tightening too. The feeble twitching of her cheeks and the subtle movements along her neck tells you she’s struggling even harder to keep her anger at bay - you’re vexing her, you’re getting on her nerves, but you can’t back away, not now, not anymore: she would deem you weak and punish you anyway but knowing you’ve disappointed her would burn more than anything else.

“Then what? What should I be ready for?” Your voice is controlled, soft, letting her know your curiosity is barely fueled by the need to actually know what’s behind all this. To know everything - given she will tell you everything, one day - you’ve got time. A lot too, according to her plan to never let you out of that damn apartment.

“I said safer, not safe, m’eudail.” Miranda exhales a long sigh from her nostrils.

She’s so close to the breaching point you’re even afraid to swallow too loudly by now. You should be glad she worries about your safety, but you know better than to bask in that thought. And the fact that she’s toying so deliberately with you makes your blood boil: she might not know about the things going through your mind, as of late, but she can’t have just lost her ability to read you so easily and so suddenly - she chooses those words like she cares while you know very well she doesn’t.

That’s too much. You don’t mind about crossing the border anymore; whatever punishment she thinks is fit, it doesn’t matter.

“So kind of you to teach me things for imaginary enemies or whatever that will never have the chance to hurt me.”

Her eyes snap open, black pupils thinning in a fraction of seconds into an expanding ocean of bright blue. She’s not looking directly at you, but you feel small and screwed nonetheless - her glare very well burnt into your mind to pop up at every right occasion.

If you weren’t already sitting down, you’re sure your knees would buckle.

“I’m trying to teach you this so my enemies or whatever don’t get too close to you.” She says, her voice surprisingly flat. If you didn’t know any better - or fear the reaction upon inquiring - you’d say she’s just parroting a premeditated response. Something she practiced over and over until she’s started to believe those words were true even if they hadn’t started as such.

Still, you need to work with what you have. You know she’s not always sincere - she hardly ever is - but you have no other choice than to believe her.

Hence, Miranda is not exactly worried about you getting hurt, but getting caught by whatever danger lurks outside that building. Honestly, it’s insulting, after what she forced you to endure from the moment she kidnapped you.

“You think I’d sell you out?” You wince in disgust, turning your head away even if you don’t care to be seen. “You know I would never-”

Miranda lifts up from your lap. She’s quick, doesn’t use her hand to hoist herself: before you can register her movement, she’s gone, sitting neatly beside you, her arms still folded over her chest. The similar position makes you drop yours immediately, your teeth grazing at your lip.

“I know you wouldn’t.” She nods, you can see it with the corner of your eye: she nods softly, her head low, her gaze fixed on her feet. “Not at first, at least, not before one of those heroic, classic speeches that go like ‘I’d rather die than speak’,” she says, mocking a random high-pitched voice, “but then, in the end, with the people I know-” She scoffs, the ghost of a bittersweet smile blooming on her mouth, “Death will be the only thing you’ll wish for.”

You watch her, trying to decide whether she’s completely sincere now or it’s just another of those rehearsed phrases she intends to feed you. There’s a part of you that wants so desperately to believe her, but the other just can’t envisage an actual criminal organization wanting to get to you, torture you only to get information about... you don't fucking know about what, like in the movies. It’s just too wild. Miranda’s universe is fucked up, you’re there by chance and you decided to stay because… whatever the reason, you refuse to be part of that grander design.

It has nothing to do with you.

You agreed to stay with her, not that world of hers that would hardly ever reach you, confined in that New York building, far from any human contact.

“Are you trying to scare me?”

The harsh noise of her hand colliding with the sofa into a resonant slap makes you jerk. Your heart shoots in your throat, pounding loudly in your temples.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Miranda is looking directly at you, her eyes flaming in blue tongues of fire and you can’t do anything but stare back, your breath catching and feeling all the blood drain from your veins. “This is not a fucking game!” She glares, points blindly at the window. “It is really that awful out there!”

Unconsciously, you notice you’ve pulled your knees against your chest, curling up into a ball on the couch. Miranda notices as well, you don’t know why she sighs, but she does, the anger slowly but steadily leaving her eyes.

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry.” You mumble, at least grateful she has decided not to leash out on you - not yet.

Maybe those anger management tapes she listens to in her room at night are giving some results. She doesn’t know you know, of course, and imagine she’d be embarrassed, so you keep the secret.

“Like it or not, you chose to enter my world the day you decided to stay.” She says, voice incredibly flat.

“I get it.” You assure, slightly annoyed. How can you ever forget that when she keeps reminding you? Sometimes you feel like she’s trying to make you regret your choice of staying. “But let’s assume your enemies were to catch me,” you’re barely aware of the dramatic eye roll, but the fact that she’s not clawing at your throat yet, encourages you to keep going, “they will probably think I know something and torture me or whatever shit you’re afraid they’ll do to me anyway, so you might as well just tell me what we’re doing. Right?” You’re not exactly sure when you’ve started rambling, but when you realize that perhaps that stream of thoughts hardly makes sense to someone outside your head, you sigh and worry at your lip.

Slowly, you turn your head to the side, wincing innocently when Miranda glares at you with narrowed eyes.

“Nice try.” She replies dryly, then a throaty, disbelieved chuckle erupts from her lips.

It’s kinda nice to know that she still finds you amusing, sometimes, after getting so much on her nerves. A couple of months ago, she would have you killed for much less.

Without much warning, you see her hand flaring up in a calculated move. You think she’ll deliver something harsh - a slap, a grip on your neck, a fistful of hair - instead she loops her fingers in the collar of your shirt and pulls you in for a kiss. Startled and taken aback, you return it without closing your eyes, brow furrowing at the unexpected softness of the contact. Because it’s always about her, you yelp when she bites into your bottom lip, making you taste copper on your tongue, but that doesn’t surprise you.

She wipes at the small drop of blood on her own mouth with the back of her hand and clicks her tongue, crocking her lips into an amused and yet dangerous smirk.

“One of these days I need to teach you to do what you’re told without making annoying questions.” She whispers. There are a lot of implications in that statement and you feel a shiver run up your spine. “Off to bed.”

When she slaps your exposed thigh, the stinging sensation crawling and spreading onto your skin brings you suddenly to yourself again. You’re alert, but you’re back to be puzzled and irritated. You lower your feet to the carpet, yet you don’t make any effort to stand up and leave.

Instead, you take in a shaky breath, her taste still lingers in your mouth, and you unfold and fold your arms on your chest, squirm lightly on the padded seat. You should leave, obey - you don’t want to.

“Well?” She inquires curiosity, cocking an eyebrow.

She’s calm now, she’s just kissed you, slapped you playfully - although a little harshly - on your thigh… you can try again. You can dare.

“Come with me?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. You didn’t like to sound so needy or clingy, but it’s too late now: your voice has betrayed you.

Miranda blinks and, in her heartbeat, her eyes have changed their light: one glimpse at her face, and you know her mood has shifted again.

“Stop asking.” She exhales, falling into the seatback, shoulders slouching.

“Miranda you just can’t keep doing this.” It’s your turn to slap your hand flat on the couch. You didn’t mean to snap, but it’s too late for that too.

“Careful kitten, I'd suggest withdrawing your claws.”

“I-” Your breath hitches when you watch her scoot closer.

There’s still a gap between the two of you, but she’s there, ready to jump - she is the cat, the feral one, done with the cuddles and yearning for blood. You know she’s going to, so - fuck it - better to just pull it out and get over with it. “It’s just that- you’re close, then you’re distant, you’re kind and nice one moment and a real bitch the next. It’s confusing.”

You try to suffocate the yelp when her hand comes to fist at your hair, but it’s too sudden. Instinctively, you reach up and grab at her wrist to lessen her pull, but you’re helpless and soon you find yourself following her, stumbling on the furniture and on your own feet as she hoists you up effortlessly and drags you into the other side of the apartment.

“I’ll make it simple for you simple, then.” She snarls sharply behind clenched teeth. “Let me remind you that the sole fact that you’re still alive and breathing is a miracle.”

You know better than to ask for mercy: you called this upon yourself, you had it coming, so begging and pleading won’t serve you much. You clench your jaw and hope for the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes to not fall down so soon; however, when the iron door of your old cell comes to sight, it’s impossible to stop their advance.

She’s flushed behind you, her chest pressed on your back. The hand that fists your hair yanks your head backward until her lips are ghosting over your cheek, the other arm wrapped around your waist keeping you still. You can only stare at the vault in front of you.

“You want to go back in there?” She asks, her voice saccharine and warm against your skin.

“No.” You whimper.

“No.” She mocks.

Smacking a kiss on the apple of your cheeks, she’s back at tugging. She pulls you up to the door of the apartment, its white surface a few inches from your nose while she takes her previous position.

“You want to leave and never come back?”

“No.”

“No.” She echoes. This time, she kisses you properly, then bites until you yelp and try to squirm away.

When she pushes you into your room, you almost fall onto your knees, but luckily you manage to stay upright. You turn abruptly on your heels, you stare at her, swallow when she lifts her forefinger, and point it at you.

Her gaze is firm, owning you completely.

“Listen to my advice, m’eudail: take what you can and live with it. I learned it a long ago, it’s time you learn it too.”

[danwhobrowses]

Why ‘The Karate Kid Part II’ Deserves More Respect

So guess what film I finished watching today? Of course, the Karate Kid franchise is considered iconic mainly for its first entry; Wax on Wax off, Skeleton fights, Sweep the Leg and the Crane Kick all cemented its legacy that allowed Cobra Kai to also be such a success. But imagine my shock when the approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes for Part II is 45% - 21% lower than the Jaden Smith ‘The Karate Kung Fu Kid’ version (and Part III is scored 15%, which is also super harsh but hard to debate outside of the magnificence of Terry Silver). Originally this was just gonna be a general post of how much I enjoyed retreading Part II, but upon seeing that score I had to give it my ‘Deserves More Respect’ posts.

It is an off-chance, but if you haven’t watched this film there will be spoilers within, I encourage you to watch it before reading, and maybe watch it again if you have so it’s fresh in the mind

Let’s start with a controversial point shall we? There are several parts where Part II is actually better than the original. Now I know! There’s a lot about the original which is iconic, but nostalgia does blind you to other shortcomings and while it’s easy to sell the first part because of its mystique, a sequel has the added pressure of rising above and developing on old and new themes set by the predecessor. The Premise In case you decided against refreshing your memory. Karate Kid Part II starts with a recap of Part I, a bit of content that was meant to be Part I’s final scene (in the script, not for filming) and then a timeskip. Ali with an i is gone - brutally dumping Daniel for some Football Player before Senior Prom and after crashing his car, Daniel’s mother is in Fresno for work and Miyagi has received a letter from his home Okinawa in news of his father’s fading health. The stage is set for Daniel and the audience to learn more about the iconic Mr. Miyagi and the life he left behind. Okay, so there is bad in this film Part II deserves respect, but it’s not perfect. It definitely gets messy near the end with Daniel’s antagonist Chozen, he mainly took beats from Johnny Lawrence in physically confronting Daniel when he could with a bunch of no-named goons and he fought pretty similarly to Johnny in catch counters and leg strikes. The opening recap did take a lot of time too, while the ending remained somewhat abrupt having just beaten up Chozen to embrace Kumiko (who had a delayed recovery after being punched once). While not bad, a fair amount of retreaded content felt like downgrades of the original; Chozen and Sato lacked the charisma of Johnny and Kreese, the crane kick was far more impressive than the drum technique and the Tournament setting was grander than the O-Bon festival. But, there are Iconic Moments in this film too Part I may have the Crane Kick and the Skeletons and the Training and Sweep the Leg. But people may forget that Part II had awesome moments too.

Like Daniel chopping through 6 Sheets of Ice! If that isn’t one hell of a power play I don’t know what is. It is a moment genuinely impressive in and outside of the 80s cheese universe of Karate Kid, and it gets referenced in Season 2 of Cobra Kai.

Also referenced in Season 2 is Miyagi vs Kreese. While this is the intended ending for Part I, it certainly acted better at the start of Part II, especially given that is foreshadows the situation Daniel finds himself in at the end of the movie. This moment is equally iconic as it completely encapsulates the character of both senseis - Kreese the confident brute brought to a sniveling mouse when size and power failed him and Miyagi the cool-headed and vastly more intelligent fighter still with the cheeky prankster lightness to him as he honks the scared shitless Kreese on the nose. Perfect.

While I did want to cite the Tea Ceremony as well I think the more iconic moment for Part II had to be Miyagi chopping the log during the storm. The storm itself is a very well-done scene which unmasks several characters in the face of adversity. True tension, worry and stakes are sold as the village are in danger of the cruel whims of nature, an act which is all too real for Sato when the house he’s in collapses on him in the calm before his scheduled deathmatch with Miyagi. Not only is this again some great foreshadowing by the rule of three (Daniel asking if Miyagi can chop a log like Sato is doing with a banner and then Miyagi and Sato meeting and seeing Sato fail to chop a log) it proves a pivotal point where Sato turns from aggrieved antagonist to repenting ally. A great show of power and friendship as Miyagi metaphorically breaks the rift between their friendship that weighs Sato down. Okay, we hear you, but how is it better? I do have to preface that I do still love Part I, I have to because in pointing out where Part II is better I have to pick at Part I’s faults. While the ending is messy Part II definitely has much better pacing, until the skeletons scene Part I doesn’t really pick up because it has to set up, Part II while it does recap doesn’t need to worry about it. Giving Miyagi the main plot was definitely Part II’s strongest suit. Part I profited from Miyagi being the ‘mysterious old teacher’ but learning a lot more about his humanity and history was engrossing and it allowed positive development for Miyagi and Daniel, especially their bond as a surrogate father and son when Daniel personally goes out of his way to support Miyagi on a very personal matter. The main characters maintain their charm as well, still a lovely array of life lessons in Part II more than just finding balance, Miyagi teaches Daniel through words and action on taking time to breathe, to refocus when imbalanced, to forgive rather than to harbour hate, mercy, selflessness and humbleness

“never put passion before principle. Even if win, you lose.” - Mr. Miyagi

The scenes involving Miyagi and his father were some of the most deep and emotive of the series up until Cobra Kai, some still haven’t been topped such as Miyagi’s dad’s first words to his son or when Daniel talked about when his father died.  And say what you will about Chozen, he does have a lot of Johnny vibes but a lot of the character we believed was Johnny due to nostalgia goggles was more fitting of Chozen’s manner. The story did a great job in making sure Chozen was always an asshole, at times Johnny did at least display honour and grace but Chozen was always sore about stuff and quick to claim dishonour even when he was in the wrong. Contrary to Johnny it’s more about his family than it is about a girl, which allowed a lot more freedom in the plot. Whether you felt Elizabeth Shue’s Ali with an i was prettier than Tamlyn Tomita’s Kumiko is up to personal preference, but the messy-haired Kumiko definitely had a slightly improved presence in Part II than Ali did, with actual focus on her own feelings outside of attraction to Daniel, her ambition to become a dancer directly linking to the O-Bon Festival - which in turn related to the Drum technique - as well as the delicately beautiful Tea Ceremony scene and actually contributing to the final fight (granted Ali wouldn’t be allowed to). Also Daniel didn’t try to eat her face which is a general improvement to the romantic subplot, extra applause has to go to Tomita here too because this was legitimately her first role - Shue had her second so that’s impressive too - and both women had good careers going forward. The increased stakes definitely worked in the favour of Part II as well, as sequel culture is forced to do, but by moving to Okinawa (actually filmed in Hawaii) we opened the door to better suit Miyagi’s world while keeping Daniel the fish out of water. I can’t speak too much for appropriation because there is still kinda some ‘white saviour’ undertones but I didn’t feel like Japan was treated negatively in this light, its culture of the O-Bon Festival and the Tea Ceremony was treated with the utmost respect and explained without pandering, the flute music had definitely stepped up its game for the soundtrack as did the imagery. Can also appreciate that Daniel does go for the Crane kick when fighting Chozen but is parried. Added hat tip has to go to costuming too. A lot of costumes would have to have distinct Kamon such as Sato’s twin fish and Miyagi’s bonsai on a lot of their clothing

Between Sato and Miyagi the colours of their clothes often code their emotions towards each other, with Sato usually in grey and Miyagi in white or cream, when Sato and Miyagi prepare for death they are in black and when Sato wants forgiveness he moves to a lighter shade. While Part I also used black and white to differ Johnny and Daniel, Part II put Chozen and Daniel in the more Japanese-themed Red and Blue. While both men wear red, blue and whites at time, Chozen’s clothes almost devolve from the white he debuts in as his darker side comes out before flat out embracing yellow after his chance to prove his honour in the storm is refused (and he’s in white then), while Daniel often moves to Red or red tones even in his blue shirt. Kumiko also moves from white to blue, sometimes even purple, in set up to the final fight to have the primary colours stand out in the colourful crowd of the O-Bon festival, but even in the blue Kumiko had red to pair her connection with Daniel. Also her Yukata at the festival is just stunning, the Great Wave off Kanagawa print is a nice touch.

Anything else we should know? It might not be much else about the film itself I can tell you, but I do appreciate something I’m starting to call ‘The Rocky Connection’ when it comes to Karate Kid. Like Part I’s ‘You’re the Best (Around)’ was shortlisted for Rocky III, Part II’s song ‘Glory of Love’ was shortlisted for Rocky IV’s theme, losing to ‘Hearts on Fire’, Bill Conti also chose to score this film instead of Rocky IV. I like to pair this with Daniel’s Rocky-esque character, he has that same kind of swagger but a lot more naive and childlike. Martin Kove also gets a nod because those bleeding hands were legit, he had an accident on-set and the footage was kept for the final cut. Tamlyn Tomita wasn’t the only film debut for Part II, B.D. Wong of...well, several famous roles including but not limited to Shang in the animated Mulan, Dr. Wu in the Jurassic Park franchise, Hugo Strange in Gotham and many more, also had his debut here in a minor speaking role when he’s handing out flyers for the dance party to Kumiko and Daniel before the Ice Chopping Scene. So, why does it deserve respect A film that adds to a beloved character in a respectful fashion without having really any god awful moments does not deserve a 4.5/10 rating. It may not have as emphatic an ending or as great a villain but it has a captivating plot and a good pace, better stakes and much more emotionally driven and responsive scenes. A lot of effort and dedication went into this film to explore new dimensions of the main characters in a fashion which was enjoyable and at times heartwarming. And characters are given human moments, even Miyagi confesses himself not to be perfect and it keeps each character grounded. Even to this day parts of Part II are remembered fondly rather than the campness that Part III had outside of Terry Silver and his magnificent ponytail, the fondness also continues to reflect in Cobra Kai with homages and fan theories of Daniel going to Okinawa again and even re-encountering Chozen. Not to mention it grossed $113m on a $13m budget and got nominated for a Best Original Song Oscar (losing to Top Gun) Part II was a good and enjoyable film which deserves far more credit than to be rated this low, for that it deserves respect.

[iamtheprotagoneil]

when i was writing my answer for the second part of this ask from alicia, i actually came up with a fic idea but since my schedule is pretty packed for a while to come, i probably won’t be able to turn this idea into an actual fic. so to keep this from fading away into the oblivion that is my awful memory, i’mma just do what ive made this blog for, which is rambling away:

there’s this hongkong tv show i watched ages ago, but one of the subplot really stuck with me. it follows one of the main characters on his journey to his eventual greatness. in this subplot, he’s stuck in an ice cage and, every night, he’d meet a girl (circumstances are a bit icky, but let’s digress). the ice cage is so dark and freezing that, to both of them, it feels more dreamlike than reality. they even prefer to each other as ‘mộng lang’ and ‘mộng cô’ which loosely translates to ‘dream man’ and ‘dream lady’.

later on, the girl (who turns out to be a princess) hosts an event to search for a consort (although, in honesty, she’s hoping to meet her dream man again). in the event, she hides behind some thick drapes that hide her identity, and asks her suitors questions that only her dream man would be able to answer – or answer correctly, anyway. the guy only comes to the event out of obligation, rather than any actual wish to be the prince consort. however, his intention changes as his turn to go ‘meet’ the princess comes, and then the questions, and then the realization that his dream lady is just behind those drapes.

i just find it so poetic that they only meet each other through bizarre circumstances, that they don’t even know of each other’s true identity, only falling in love with each other’s voice and wits. then, after a while apart, they find each other again, through sheer coincidence, and are able to reconcile on what they’d thought was only a lost connection.

which, ahh, makes me think of an AU, of sorts, for protagoneil. perhaps, they wouldn’t meet in an ice cage, but in a prison (idk, that’s just what my mind decided on), maybe in some place where they’re held captive in rooms next to each other, a place with rules so reclusive that they never get to see each other, only a voice as proof of the other’s existence. their situation – being locked up in a room with only a small window as indication that the outside world does exist, although distant – would make their interaction with each other so surreal, as if the other is nothing more than a figment of their imagination, another sign that they’ve gone mad in this captivity.

hell, we can make this even more tragic by setting in the tenet ‘verse, post-canon. perhaps a mission went awry, and the protagonist finds himself captured by some antagonists with greedy, self-serving purposes for tenet’s inversion technology. perhaps, the protagonist thinks neil’s voice – or whoever it is that sounds so much like the neil he once met – coming through the wall is just his mind coping to the loneliness and isolation. he’s never had problems with either before, but the circumstances are different now. now he’s got a ghost living up in his head, that he’s been missing and thinking about more than he’d ever admit to another soul.

i imagine their conversations can only be held in the night, spoken so quietly – barely above a whisper – so as to not alert the guards. the secrecy drown in complete darkness truly adds another layer of surrealism to it all. they never exchange names – the protagonist bc he doesn’t want to compromise himself, and neil bc well, if the protagonist doesn’t bother to offer name then why should he?

the things they talk about are simple, although unclear on whether what is true and what is warped into something not quite a lie, but close. they talk mostly to keep themselves sane (ironic, isn’t it?), to have a little distraction from the horrid things await them when morning comes.

i imagine the protagonist would wake up one day, call for neil, but get no answer in return. he tries more times, through many nights but still, no answer. neil’s just gone, so suddenly, and the protagonist can’t decide which sense of the word is worst. eventually, after a few more days of torture, of wondering and dreading, the protagonist finds his freedom.

it’s a joined effort, from himself and the tenet team sent to rescue him. i imagine the protagonist checking the room besides, finding it vacant of any furniture and living soul. he decides there that, yeah, perhaps the time in and out of inversion, paired with the isolation and torture he was put through, has really done a number on his mental state.

then, some months later, the protagonist would meet the voice in his head once again, but this time, with confirmation that it’s been real all along.

see, neil’s been moved to another holding facility. the antagonists have wanted him to work for them; have taken interests in the research he’s been doing on a particular field of physics and decided that he would be perfect to help them in their malicious plot for greed. neil... well, i wouldn’t say they broke through him, but he did agree eventually. the torture had been too much, and he was tired – he hated having to go back to the cell they were holding him in, facing this sickening dread as he questioned his sanity.

the voice in his cell had been a great reprieve from the undue punishments on his body, but not enough to completely elevate him from the pain of it. so he “broke”. he agreed to work with the antagonists, to save himself since it was obvious that no one ever would.

and that’s how the protagonist finds him again; when he breaks down the antagonists’ second location and discovers a compliant neil seemingly working for the people that was going to put a whole lot of lives in danger for their own greedy purposes. before they can say anything to each other, though, neil’s taken out by another agent – a sleeping dart placed carefully on his neck and pushed. the protagonist never did get the agents’ identity, having lost track of them in the midst of chaos going around him.

later, when neil is put in their medical care facility, the protagonist stands outside of his room, watching him sleep through the glass window and listening to a report about his conditions. it contains everything from the moment neil went missing from his london flat (presumed dead), to the time he’s spent under the antagonists’ captivity, to the point where they found him. then, the protagonist is shown a document, including various equations and graphs and terms that mostly went through his head.

he looks to the reporting agent, expecting a better explanation. the agent points out that the equations are wrong, but so delicately that she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t thought to take another, harder look.

“even if they’d gotten with it, their plan would’ve failed. that document you’re holding in your hand ensures that.” she turns to look at neil, regarding his sleeping figure. “he might’ve given into the idea of ever getting out of their claws, but he never gave in. he never truly gave them what they’d wanted from him.”

all of that winds down to one simple fact: neil’s passed the test, and the protagonist knows what that means. the protagonist has to wait a few hours for it, though; for neil to finally wake up and have his induction into tenet. in the meantime, he sits on the couch inside neil’s room, and waits, watching neil’s eyelids flutter in sleep, and feeling sorrow/rage/frustration grip tight to his being as he thinks about things that has and will happen to neil.

when neil wakes up, the protagonist is just right there to welcome him into the afterlife. he keeps his speech short, giving neil a brief overview of his situation, but neil isn’t really listening. the protagonist’s words blur together, not because of neil’s groggy mind, but because of a single, simple realization. it hits him so hard that he just can’t keep in the lone tear falling from his eyes. the protagonist sees this, and his heart aches – remembering how it’s felt when he was the one who was lying on the bed, getting told that his entire team had failed to make it out alive – and unlike his own recruited, the protagonist tries to comfort neil with, “listen, i know it’s hard—”

but neil just cuts him off entirely, reciting a phrase he’s said before, to the man he’s thought was just a dream his tired mind made up to keep him company at the late hours of the night. it stops the protagonist right in his tracks, staring down at neil, breathing harshly through his lips because he can’t believe it. he’s thought, also, but apparently, he’s thought wrong.

“i’m glad you’re real,” neil says, as he watches the same realization he’s experienced dawn on the protagonist’s face.

the protagonist takes a moment to respond, still a little bit stunned by neil’s words. then, he takes an easy breath, relaxing his tense shoulders, smiles down at neil - small and private, something just for the too of them - and says, “me too.”

because despite everything that had happened to them both during their time in that prison, they still had each other. they were there for each other, and the protagonist gets it now - the beautiful friendship that neil had alluded to. it is quite beautiful - poetic too, maybe - for them to have found each other in such a hopeless place, then lost that connect, then reconnecting it again because fate has willed it so.

the protagonist can’t help, even more so now that they are together again, looking forward to the things they will get up to - as promised. neil’s smile, sleepy yet sincere, tells him the very same thing.

[c-ptsdrecovery]

“Did it ever get physical?”

This is often the first question we ask someone we know or suspect is in an unhealthy relationship. While starting a conversation around physical abuse is essential, the issue is when it’s the only question we ask.

Stopping short of inquiring about other forms of abuse implies that physical violence is the defining factor of an unhealthy relationship. Even worse, it conveys the message that whatever else might be going on is just “not that bad.”

This is a huge issue, because emotional abuse can absolutely be that bad.

Even if relationship never gets physically abusive, emotional abuse can escalate over time with devastating consequences, even death. And while emotional abuse does not always lead to physical abuse, physical abuse in relationships is nearly always preceded and accompanied by emotional abuse.[i]

Why don’t we hear more about emotional abuse? In addition to the common misconception that it’s just not that serious, many people simply aren’t sure what emotional abuse actually entails.

My aim here is to help you understand what emotional abuse really means and what makes it so dangerous so that you’re better equipped to start the conversation. Because if you want to stop it, you first have to know what you’re dealing with.

Defining Emotional Abuse

Understanding emotional abuse is complicated for many reasons. One reason is because there are several different names used interchangeably to refer to the same kind of abuse, including emotional abuse/violence, psychological abuse/violence, and mental abuse. For simplicity, we’ll use “emotional abuse” going forward.

Another complication is that there isn’t one accepted definition of emotional abuse. It seems that everyone has a slightly different version.

We’ve identified several common threads that make up the most widely accepted definitions and combined them here to create the following description of emotional abuse:

Emotional abuse is any abusive behavior that isn’t physical, which may include verbal aggression, intimidation, manipulation, and humiliation, which most often unfolds as a pattern of behavior over time that aims to diminish another person’s sense of identity, dignity and self worth, and which often results in anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts or behaviors, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

Wow, that’s a lot.

Each part of the definition presents its own complications to fully grasping the reality of emotional abuse, so let’s dissect what this really means, piece by piece.

Breaking Down Emotional Abuse

1.“…any abusive behavior that isn’t physical…”

Pretty broad, right? Emotional abuse is difficult to comprehend because it encompasses so much. Just take a look at the non-exhaustive list[ii] below of behaviors that are potentially emotionally abusive:

Intimidation

Manipulation

Refusal to ever be pleased

Blaming

Shaming

Name-calling

Insults

Put-downs

Sarcasm

Infantilization

Silent treatment

Trivializing

Triangulation

Sabotage

Gaslighting

Scapegoating

Blame-shifting

Projection

Ranking and comparing

Arbitrary and unpredictable inconsistency

Threatening harm

Forced isolation

We specify “potentially” abusive behaviors because some of the behaviors on this list could occur in a healthy context as well. Let’s take sarcasm and infantilizing speech, for example. Many people consider sarcasm a key component of a good sense of humor. Many people would also agree that using infantilizing speech as terms of endearment is harmless, for example referring to a significant other as “baby.” However, in the context of emotional abuse where the intent is malicious, these behaviors can be extremely cutting, especially when disguised as affection or an innocent remark. For example, someone who repeatedly tells his or her significant other “My baby is so smart” in a way that’s meant to mock their partner’s intelligence using sarcasm as well as infantilizing speech to make them feel small is a form of emotional abuse.

2. “ …which may include verbal aggression, intimidation, manipulation, and humiliation”

The key word here is “may.” Not only is the list of emotional abuse tactics incredibly long and dependent on context, the particular combination of behaviors that show up, how they show up—whether overtly or covertly—and with what intensity can also vary greatly from relationship to relationship. As a result, we have another layer of complexity: emotional abuse doesn’t have one specific look.

For example, an emotionally abusive relationship where overt aggressing behaviors like yelling, threatening and blaming are predominantly used will look very different from a relationship where only very subtle forms of abuse like gaslighting, passive-aggressive put-downs, and minimizing are used.

3. “a pattern of behavior over time”

Emotional abuse is rarely a single event. Instead, it occurs over time as a pattern of behavior that’s “sustained” & “repetitive.”[iii] This particular characteristic of emotional abuse helps explain why it’s so complicated and so dangerous.

Even if you’re the most observant person in the world, emotional abuse can be so gradual that you don’t realize what’s happening until you’re deeply entangled in its web. As a result, the abuse can go unchecked as the relationship progresses, building for months, years, even decades, especially if the abuse is more covert. In such instances, the target’s self-esteem is steadily eroded and their self-doubt becomes so paralyzing that they often have only a vague sense that something (though unsure what) is wrong.

4. “aims to diminish another person’s sense of identity, dignity, and self-worth”

Regardless of how emotional abuse unfolds, experts agree that it has devastating effects on those who are subjected to it.[iv]

Unfortunately, these effects as well as each harmful act of abuse are largely invisible. This makes it difficult for most people to comprehend the very real risks and damage of emotional abuse.

Let’s demonstrate why. For a moment, try to imagine a scene of physical violence, a fight. Even if you’ve never witnessed or experienced it firsthand, your imagination can probably fill in the picture pretty well. The struggle. The adrenaline and fear. The aftermath of blood, bruises, tears. It’s a painful portrait but likely one that you can envision.

Now, try to picture a scene of emotional abuse, specifically someone whose self-identity has been annihilated. Can you see it?

Chances are your mind doesn’t know where to begin. But if you are able to create a picture of either the acts of abuse or what the damage looks like on the person who experienced it, can you put that image into words?

While describing physical wounds is pretty straightforward, it’s much harder to articulate emotional trauma. The parts of a person that sustained emotional abuse destroys—identity, dignity, and self-worth—are abstract, almost impossible to picture or measure.

5. “results in anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts or behaviors, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)”

Because emotional abuse is essentially invisible, singling out the abuse as the culprit of its destructive effects is another kind of challenge and frustration.

Even in cases of extreme emotional abuse, there are no bruises or gashes where the victim can point and say, “This cracked rib is from that constant belittling and invalidation” and “That swollen eye and broken lip are from the incessant name-calling and guilt-tripping and pathological lying.” Instead, what emotional abuse ends up looking like is a person suffering from painful yet not uncommon afflictions like anxiety or depression.

It can therefore be heartbreakingly easy for anyone—whether the person inflicting the emotional abuse, a third-party observer, or even the target of the abuse—to misattribute its damage to some other cause like unemployment or family stress or even blame the target’s prior mental state if he or she battled similar issues in the past.

Closing Thoughts

Hopefully this explanation of emotional abuse is as comprehensive as possible, but I recognize that it’s still bound to have gaps due to the complications I’ve just mentioned. Think of it more as a springboard for future conversations and exploration than an all-encompassing definition.

Emotional abuse, like any other form of cruelty, thrives in the darkness when no one understands, discusses, or recognizes it. Use your newfound knowledge and curiosity to shine the light on the risks and devastation of emotional abuse.

A great place to start is with asking the question, “How does that behavior or action make you feel?” or “Did it ever get emotionally abusive?”

[midnightactual]

Critical Analysis & Tactics IV (CAT-4): Yoruichi vs. Soifon Part A

How strong is Yoruichi? That’s actually a very involved question. I’ve decided to create a series of articles detailing my thoughts on the matter by looking at military incidents and confrontations involving her. This is the fourth, and you may consult the others at your leisure:

CAT-1: The Hollowfication Incident

CAT-2: The Central 46 Trial Breakout

CAT-3: Yoruichi vs. Byakuya

CAT-5: Yoruichi & Soifon vs. Aizen

CAT-6: Yoruichi vs. Yammy

CAT-7: Yoruichi, Kisuke, & Isshin vs. Aizen

CAT-8: Yoruichi & Co. vs. Yhwach

CAT-9: Yoruichi vs. Askin

I’ve obliquely talked about this fight before (here) as it relates to Yoruichi’s disinclination to use her zanpakutō, but not in great detail. It says quite a lot about their respective powers and abilities, but to an even greater extent it reveals the exact nature of their relationship prior to Yoruichi’s departure from the Seireitei. These are all matters which I feel there are points of confusion and misunderstanding on by others. Given that, I’m going to give my own perspective on all these issues.

Since the is a long post, let me as usual put the basic conclusion here up front: this fight wasn’t particularly serious in terms of physical danger, as Yoruichi was hardly trying and Soifon radically underestimated her abilities. This fight is far more about psychology and mutual understanding of one another.

01. I’ve discussed this in the past (here), yet it bears not just repeating but additional emphasis: Yoruichi is at her absolute weakest ever during the Soul Society arc, as she herself alludes to in chapter 119:

She drops Ichigo like a sack of potatoes despite him being injured and slumps against the wall because she’s so winded, and openly comments on the fact that she’s wildly out of shape. It’s abundantly clear that she isn’t performing at anywhere near her previous or future maximum abilities during this arc.

02. Yoruichi’s attire also bears some scrutiny. Notice how she’s dressed above. She has on her stretchy pants, and we know from earlier scenes with Ichigo in chapter 116 that she’s wearing a turtleneck (plus you can see the sleeves poking out of her jacket). Also notice her footwear. All throughout Ichigo’s bankai training, Yoruichi is wearing shoes with integrated greaves. These appear to be flats based on the shoes she wore as a Taichō (and which Soifon still wears as one) but modified to suit her preferences. By the time she fights Soifon, however, her outfit has notably changed, as seen here in chapter 157:

The turtleneck has been replaced by the keisen shōzoku-inspired top, as she later reveals and which even here is evident from the lack of sleeves. The shoes have also been replaced with boots instead (which are capable of dispensing anken). She has cloth wrapped around her arms, and her shins are wrapped in gaiters. She only wears this variation on her outfit when fighting Soifon. (As seen in CAT-6, when she later fights Yammy, she’s wearing an outfit identical to when she trained Ichigo.)

In reality, gaiters largely exist to protect against scratching, puncture, or friction. The wraps on her arms are similar to puttees, and serve a similar function, while the remainder of her scarf functions like a neck gaiter. One might ask why she’d discard hard greaves for soft gaiters, and the answer is that their protective power is actually likely superior.

As noted in CAT-3, in chapter 117, Yoruichi completely halted Byakuya’s release of Senbonzakura using a cloth ribbon, and as noted in CAT-5, in chapter 177, did similar to Aizen. I would suggest that that cloth ribbon is special, and that her arm wraps, gaiters, and neck gaiter are made of the same material. I would also suggest so is her hair wrap, given it repeatedly survives Shunkō, to include her Raiju Senkei form where electrical Kidō is literally running through her hair. What this cloth material is and what its exact properties are remains unknown, but it seems incredibly durable. (Given it appears to be a tan color, it might not be related to the Ginpaku Kazahana no Uzuginu of Byakuya’s scarf, but it could be the same material but processed or treated differently, possibly explaining the immense value of that scarf beyond mere rarity.)

This assertion is supported by the fact that during the actual fight, in chapter 157, Yoruichi both takes and deals several blows to areas protected by these garments, suggesting they were made specifically for fighting with Hakuda:

A question becomes apparent at this point, which is: where did Yoruichi get this stuff? More than likely from the storage depot above the study chamber, which is likely where she also got the first outfit she used for this mission (since she obviously didn’t bring it with her to Soul Society given she came as a cat). In other words, I think it’s very clear that Yoruichi specifically equipped herself to fight against Soifon, knowing she would likely be dealing with Hakuda and might have to use Shunkō and dressing to compensate for her own weakness.

03. Yoruichi and Soifon’s reunion is very telling regarding how truly familiar they are with one another. Here’s how it starts:

I want you to pay attention to how close Yoruichi is before Soifon notices her approach. Part of this is due to Yoruichi’s speed, but remember: she’s not flash stepping at anywhere near her optimum, and would be conserving her energy heading into battle. Part of this is due to Yoruichi’s stealth, but remember: Yoruichi felt Renji’s ambient reiatsu approaching even at a notable distance through solid matter. Soifon doesn’t notice Yoruichi until the very instant before she’s tackled off of Kiyone. (The closing-in panel at top-left suggests the bottom panel is indeed Yoruichi’s own perspective, as she hits Soifon in the very next panel.)

But I want to make a point regarding reiatsu detection before proceeding: Shinigami who are very familiar with each other will naturally detect one another’s reiatsu at distances at which other, more powerful Shinigami won’t. An example of this is Rukia detecting Ichigo’s approach before Byakuya does in chapter 581, presumably due to the nature of Ichigo and Rukia’s bond:

And another example is Yoruichi and Yūshirō detecting one another at a great distance in the Soul King’s Palace in chapter 628, while not noting anyone else on either end, presumably because they’re related:

In other words, people with strong bonds should have a distinct advantage in identifying one another even if one part is moving quickly or attempting to conceal themselves. This suggests that Yoruichi and Soifon do not actually share such a bond, a point which will repeatedly be made over the course of their fight, but especially two pages later back in chapter 153:

Stop and think about their situation. Soifon can see the eyes and skin color of Yoruichi at this range, and likely also feel her reiatsu... and she still doesn’t recognize her. How many dark-skinned, gold-eyed people are there in the Seireitei who wear orange jackets and move quickly and stealthily? It’s worse than the translation here lets on, by the way:

The original Japanese here at the bottom-left is, “何者だ貴様!!” which translates to Romaji as “Nanimonoda kisama!!” Yes, that kisama. The literal translation would be something like, “Who are you, you bastard!!” I think Soifon calling Yoruichi “kisama” is all the proof you need to firmly establish she has no idea who this is, and doesn’t recognize it as Yoruichi until she hears her voice. I also think that reaction panel firmly dispels any idea that Soifon is acting and doing this just to insult Yoruichi, because this is a face of shock:

It’s very obvious that Soifon is surprised by the fact that she’s seeing Yoruichi again, despite all those visual indicators, which is... strange, and perhaps suggests something about Soifon’s powers of observation. Regardless, this can be taken in contrast with the next page, and Yoruichi’s reveal:

Which is surprisingly playful. Yoruichi isn’t stressed at all here, and remains fairly upbeat and comparatively unperturbed for the first section of the fight until Soifon tears the (breakaway?) sleeves off of her uniform. It’s pretty clear that Yoruichi doesn’t go into this fight expecting a hard slog, even if she took precautions with her outfit. Indeed, I would say she expected it to be merely a performance review.

The point remains: Soifon didn’t identify Yoruichi until well after they’d made contact, and past the point when it should’ve been obvious who was accosting her.

04. Starting in chapter 154, we’re treated to repeated scenes presenting Yoruichi and Soifon as equals:

This first panel makes it very clear visually, and that sets the tone for what follows.

It’s also echoed in the way that they trash-talk each other.

And also reflected in the visual framing of their exchanges; these panels are clearly designed to kind of ‘reflect’ one another. Take notice here of Soifon’s further trash-talking: she’s asserting that she was a better warrior than Yoruichi even when Yoruichi was her Taichō! How’s that for confidence? And it should tell you a lot about how Soifon looks back upon Yoruichi’s tenure, which we’ll get into later.

This apparent equity is also reflected in them trading hits. Yoruichi’s injury seems more grievous, given she’s coughing up blood, but Soifon doesn’t seem to regard it as a more notable injury than she herself suffered, nor does it actually impact Yoruichi’s performance any more than Soifon’s does her. (Nor will Soifon’s strikes with Suzumebachi seemingly do anything to slow Yoruichi down as the fight goes on.)

This sense of equity will persist right up until after Soifon reveals her shikai and starts to speed up, at which point she will reveal that she’s been “going easy” on Yoruichi and that (in her mind) they’re not equals.

I think it’s because of this rather thorough visual symbolism (and Yoruichi’s reactions of surprise as Soifon’s performance) that many people walk away with the impression that Soifon and Yoruichi are equal in performance, not just in this fight and this arc, but throughout Bleach. We already know, however, from (01), that that simply isn’t true: Soifon here at her maximum output can only just rival Yoruichi at her weakest.

This is emphasized by the fact that Soifon will go on to fail to score two consecutive hits with Suzumebachi on Yoruichi, and by the fact that we know (from her escape from Byakuya with Ichigo) that Yoruichi isn’t going all out with her flash steps here either. This is not only Yoruichi at her weakest, this is also Yoruichi fighting in a very conservative fashion. And Soifon still can’t take her out despite earnestly trying.

05. The motivations of both parties are rather plainly established. Soifon’s motivations are revealed by the panels above with her, “Which of us... is the better warrior?!” and, “Now do you see? I’m better than you!” remarks. This further emphasized by a panel in chapter 158:

Soifon is obsessed with proving she’s better than Yoruichi, and rubbing Yoruichi’s face in the fact.

Yoruichi, meanwhile, rather obviously turned up to see where Soifon was at in terms of her progression, as chapter 154 alludes to:

Yoruichi is there to see whether Soifon has filled her proverbial shoes. This shouldn’t be surprising as we know from Soifon’s flashbacks in chapter 159 that:

Yoruichi added Soifon to her bodyguard unit in the first place because she “[admired her] skills” and was “expecting great things from [her].”

In other words, Yoruichi showed up to see how Soifon had been getting on in terms of her skills for all this time, and seemed to largely expect a fairly casual encounter (although she was prepared for it to escalate). She wasn’t anticipating Soifon’s mindset and drive to actually try and kill her. Soifon, meanwhile, is resolute in her determination to punish Yoruichi for what she regards as having been abandoned.

Click here for Part B!

[mousehole5000]

tgcf chapters 107 - 120 this is one where i give some Opinions. i do overall like hualian a lot but i have some quibbles

wait why am i still taking screenshots? i can copy/paste again afskldfjasad

It really was hard to tell whether people would feel happy after watching such performances. However, in truth, slaughter and the sight of blood did create excitement in people. Whether or not there was fear, after the initial shock was over, a rush of adrenaline would be produced in the heart- me watching horror movies

“Shi Qingxuan said. “Then, Your Highness, Crimson Rain Sought Flower! I order you to—to immediately strip each other’s clothing!” - djslkadjlsd WHY DID HE SPECIFICALLY SAY THEY HAD TO STRIP EACH OTHER THISALSKDJ is this a normal thing is it a wingman attempt what is happening

“I’ll tell you what it is,” he said softly. “To watch with your own eyes your beloved be trampled and ridiculed, yet be unable to do anything. That’s the worst suffering in the world.” ... “Ming Yi asked, “What’s the biggest regret of your life?”- when truth or dare gets a bit too real

On the side, Hua Cheng was still only observing, and was already bored to the point where he’d changed back into his red robes. Then he changed to black robes again. Then to white robes. Almost every time Xie Lian looked back, he would be donning a different appearance, and with every new look there were different hairstyles, and different accessories, and different boots, and so on; sometimes playful, sometimes elegant, sometimes deadly, sometimes glamourous. Xie Lian was growing dizzy from all the colours and kept looking back, unable to look away. - THIS ISNT THE TIME HUA CHENG. YOURE PRIMPING. THE WINDMASTER HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED AND YOURE PRIMPING

obsessed with xie lian not being able to figure out to use the windmaster’s fan and just. using it to SMACK

also windmaster??? whats going on??? :( i know some things from spoilers like who is not to be trusted but i really have no clue whats happening rn

anyways back to puqi shrine lets check on those kids also can we PLEASE get some funds for this restoration smh. hua cheng and xie lian doing mundane hard labor together to fulfill prayers.... :pleading:

jailbreak in the heavens 2: dig a tunnel

Sure enough, the moment Ming Yi put pressure on his shovel, a hole opened up before them. With the shovel raised, he burrowed crazily ahead while Shi Qingxuan, in the middle, cheered him on crazily. As the only non-crazy person, Xie Lian brought up the rear. That treasured shovel of the Earth Master was indeed magical, and with only a few strokes, a new tunnel of over ten meters was dug. - anybody remember mulch diggums from the artemis fowl series? this is much more dignified than that but i think this is only the second time ive read a character just starting digging a tunnel as a plot point

okay so much is going on i wish i hadnt spoiled who certain characters actually are for myself but i have no one to blame but me for a) not blacklisting spoilers at all and b) just having a little freefall through the tags. oh well. anyway heavenly college admissions scandal except way worse. the corruption extends to the heavens and the windmaster is having a very bad day

i guess we’re having a high seas adventure now?

im gonna keep it real im getting tired of how often we get told how handsome hua cheng is. i know its all xie lian’s pov and while im not terribly familiar with it i know what genre we’re working with and im assuming thats pretty typical. its something i dont much care for in general and idk maybe it sounds better in the original but ngl its starting to make me roll my eyes. love you goth king but god okay we get it.

i guess what i will say about hualian so far is that overall i like them and i like how they interact in general they have a lot of nice moments and they just genuinely seem to like each other which is really nice to see EXCEPT for when it actually comes to things that could be romantic or sexual which is a shame bc i dont think it has to be like this. again disclaimer that im only reading a translation and dont know everything might not have all the knowledge necessary to accurately criticize etc etc and im assuming a lot of this is expected from the genre (disclaimer to this disclaimer that i cant say that for sure its just based on things ive picked up about the bl genre over the years) but idk like xie lian was so distressed after their underwater kiss scene. it was kind of uncomfortable to read and maybe im being unfair i know his cultivation is based around abstinence or whatever but idk i dont care for it. and that scene alone doesnt have to be a bad thing like idk i guess its his first kiss ever (?) and it would make sense if he feels weird about it but i just have my doubts thats going to be addressed or resolved in a satisfying way. also im like. dude everyone is like centuries old. xie lian’s been on earth for 800 years. has he really never met or heard of a gay person during all this time? maybe he hasnt idk what he got up to yet maybe that’s actually a thing. also same thing with the reactions from the immortals to xie lian in a dress and characters like the windmaster like again you’re all centuries old and its not uncommon to be able to just completely change gender presentation. why are you all weird about a man wearing a woman’s dress? i just feel like that shouldnt be a big deal to these characters idk

also again not going to lie part of this that im not really a big fan of reading romance in general. yes i am reading this book. yes i do read and write a lot of fanfic that includes or centers romance. im multifaceted. but really what im talking about is the like physical side of it and descriptions im extremely picky about it. ill give an example. early on in the torture pit (or whatever it was called i cant remember lol) when xie lian kind of accidentally felt up hua cheng in the dark when he was being carried. i dont think thats a bad thing to have happen between the two romantic leads i think thats fine and good to include that early but i just did not enjoy reading it when it happened idk maybe it was the wording and i do think that moments like these work better in a visual medium. ive definitely read het romance that reads like this and i wasnt a fan of that either lol same with fanfic i get tired when writers go on and on about how hot one characters finds another character. this isnt a huge criticism of it like i said im picky but again like with the way that hua cheng is described it just makes me roll my eyes sorry kings

okay back to the reading. this whole saving the fishermen thing feels like a big set up for something narrative-wise. hua cheng specifically insisted on coming and i know one of the characters involved ends up dying im wondering if thats now it would be a good time tbh if things get just a bit too unfortunate during this heavenly calamity... and the brothers are notably not having a harmonious time... also tho it feels very likely we’ll just have another Hualian Moment (tm)

In such a situation, Pei Ming still acted the same. In the evening, when they rescued a few fishermen girls, so scared their eyes were blurry from tears, he held them in his embrace and soothed them with a gentle voice; a true show of honeyed romance, affectionate and charming. - pei ming please get pickled again.

also its funny that hua cheng is just kinda hanging out and everyone else just has to deal with it

Looking down from above, the entire area was painted in a terrifying black. It was easy to see the collision between the two different-coloured currents. Their fierce battle was what formed this enormous whirlpool. As the eye swallowed the ship whole, the two currents of water separated. However, the battle was far from over. Like two venomous vipers, they continued to snap at each other. Each collision was followed by a mountain of angry waves. - this pretty dope ngl. also love our wind and earth masters just chilling on a shovel i dig it. hehe

Yet, other than discovering Hua Cheng had a fine body, there were no other finds. Xie Lian was at his wit’s end and started to worry. - okay see this one’s funny im just also irritated bc im like WE KNOW!!! WE GET IT HE’S HOT AND XIE LIAN THINKS HE’S HOT OKAY GOT IT

okay kiss #2 again its not the kisses themselves its xie lian’s reaction it just bothers me idk im not saying i need him to be super into it and completely unconflicted about it rn but he’s just so freaked out about it and idk i just dont really like it just feels weird i dont care for that aspect of it. also dude hua cheng is a ghost and he did this exact same thing for you before just chill. i wish instead of xie lian literally running away while screaming that hes sorry he was just like “oh haha youre fine thats cool im gonna go look around the woods i dont feel weird about this at all haha” like idk its kind of funny but when its literally our two romantic leads i just feel like its confusing like it kind of makes me feel like they shouldnt be together if one of them freaks out this much again considering the fact that they are both CENTURIES old. i know i know xie lian is an 800 year old virgin but. he hasn’t been like this about anything else so yeah idk like it still could have been awkward and funny i just dont think it needed to be so :/ that being said it was funny that xie lian was then internally like “oh i did it wrong? perhaps i should ask him for more.. instructions....” if that actually happens i might like it bc it would complete this little watery theme

Before he finished, he immediately remembered. Coffin wood. There were trees here everywhere; and a deceased? There was one right before his eyes. Sure enough, Hua Cheng smiled. “Won’t it be fine once I lie inside? - love that hua cheng just sat on the fact that he can turn anything into a coffin. that would have been really useful information earlier but no he just waited until everyone but xie lian was gone afjaklsdjf

also i do think that oblivious xie lian thinking “wow whoever it is that hua cheng fancies is an idiot for not liking him back theyre totally taking him for granted :/” is kind of funny and sweet. actually the whole conversation they have at the campfire is good and im bookmarking it to think about later

“...You on top and me on the bottom,” Xie Lian replied. “Isn’t top and bottom the same?” Hua Cheng asked. - okay im sorry but. mood whenever theres discourse about top/bottom dynamics for a ship im just like jesus christ i dont care. tbh i rarely read fanfiction if its just sexual and ngl if i see a fic specifically tag characters as top or bottom i wont read it lmfao. especially when people have really strong opinions about this stuff when theres nothing canonical to back it up like headcanon all you want but whenever i see people argue about it im just like no offense but go work out your own sexual issues and dynamics instead of arguing with strangers on the internet about who’s a top and who’s a bottom. sorry to be mean but just thats how i feel lol

this was mostly a ramble with a few excerpts but im getting sleepy im going to TRY to take a break from this for like a day but we’ll see how that goes i do very much want to know what happens. anyway if you read this whole thing hiiiiii sorry for subjecting you to my opinions on top/bottom discourse

[cryxmercy]

‘Tis But a Flesh Wound || Mercy & Erin (Flashback)

Beer and knives and immortal secrets, oh my. 

When: A Saturday night in the recent past, before the Season One Finale Where: Mercy’s apartment Who: Mercy and Erin @corpse--diem

TW: violence, blood (non-medical), stabbing, mentions of stabbing, alcohol, drunken shenanigans, mentions of hypothetical murder, mentions of manipulation

Mercy couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this drunk. Hell, Mercy couldn’t remember what she’d done that morning. Not after nearly a dozen beers. Which was honestly more than she usually drank. But when someone else was drinking with her - Erin had finally had time to come by and do some basic self-defense training - it was easy for Mercy to get ‘into her cups.’ Which is exactly where she was now. Metaphorically speaking. 

Physically, she was standing in her living room, what furniture she had pushed to the side (beer bottles stacked neatly in a tower on the coffee table) trying to teach Erin how to do a proper choke hold. “See…. you gotta… you gotta compress both arteries…” Mercy - who was the one in the chokehold - adjusted Erins arm so that it wrapped around her neck properly. Or as proper as possible when the two of them were drunk off their asses. Which wasn’t very proper at all.  “Make sure aaaaalll the blood’s gettin’ cut off to their brain. Just make sure when they pass out you let go or well… I guess it’s win/win for you since…” Mercy snorted a laugh. “You’d get another customer if you kill a guy…” 

There was no question that this was a bad idea. Of all the bad ideas that Erin had lately, this one was the best. She didn’t expect to learn a whole hell of a lot, especially after she watched Mercy knock back her eighth (or ninth?) bottle of beer. Honestly, she’d lost track. But that had been about the time Erin was finishing up her fifth when the blonde storm yanked her up and started moving furniture around. Oh. Right. She’d almost forgotten this part. 

Yep. Bad idea confirmed the very second she tried to stand straight. “Listen, I know arteries,” she argued, a teasing laugh in her voice. But she did her best to reel herself back in while Mercy maneuvered her arms. Every ounce of her concentration went into following her directions very carefully. “Let’s see about this before I go propping up my own business, yeah?” She laughed, her arms firm but not squeezing yet. “I can’t decide if you’re brave or stupid for letting me do this right now,” she paused, a grin taking over her face. “Ready and--GO!” In the next beat, she was squeezing exactly how Mercy had shown her. “Am I doing it?!” She asked, trying to peak over Mercy’s shoulder.

Bad ideas could be good ideas. It was all a matter of perspective. And Mercy’s perspective was that this was a very good idea. Mercy had no idea how many beers she’d put back. She just… drank them. A thousand years of drinking plus a Fury metabolism made her tolerance… pretty high. But not so high that she wasn’t drunk off her ass at this point. 

Mercy snorted a laugh at Erin’s assurances about her anatomical knowledge, but took her word for it (as much as one could while piss drunk). “Why not… why not both?” she laughed in between maneuvering Erin’s arms. “I’ve never been… a coward… not a day in my life…” That wasn’t exactly true. But Mercy wasn’t thinking all that clearly. Which explained why when Erin applied pressure to Mercy’s neck again she still continued to giggle. Or tried to… since Erin was apparently a quick study. So the laughter sounded a bit choked off… because it was. Though Mercy gave her an excited thumbs up in answer to her question. She tapped her arm to signal her to let up a bit. “I can show you… how to get outta this… or I can show you how to stab somebody... and not kill ‘em?” Because sharp objects were perfectly safe in their current state. 

There was a gleam in Erin’s eye as Mercy’s voice and laughter started to sputter out in short chunks. She was doing it! Oh shit--she was really doing it. She let go as soon as she recognized that the hand smacking her arm meant can’t breathe, please stop. “Oh fuck, sorry,” she responded quickly, though the bellowing laugh that followed didn’t hold as much regret as it should have. And why should it? She’d gotten it right on her first try--she was allowed to be proud of that, right? She stepped back, a little pep in her step as she snagged a fresh beer, bringing out another one for the blonde while she was at it. 

“Here--for your throat,” Erin teased and took a long sip of the cool beverage. This was nice. She was actually having fun, which was a far cry from most of her stress-filled days lately. She’d enjoy it as long as she could--probably until one of them actually got hurt or the alcohol got the better of them. It was her turn to sputter, nearly choking on her beer. “You want to show me how to stab someone?” Right now? In her state? She’d seen a thousand fatal stab wounds but a nonfatal one was new. Given her general anatomical knowledge, she could probably figure it out once she was a little more sober. But this way sounded way more fun and she decided to let the chaos that came with her sixth beer take over. “Oh, hell yeah,” she quickly moved, jabbing her in the side with her finger. “And the other thing too. But I’ve gotta know the stabbing thing first.”

Mercy laughed as Erin released her. “It’s good… it’s all… good…” She rubbed her neck, showing Erin no harm done. “You’re a quick study… you’ll be chokin’ dudes out for real in no time…” Mercy took the offered beer with a grin of thanks and turned it back, draining half the bottle in one go. It wasn’t often she did… this. This being… just hanging out with someone she considered a friend. No overhanging dread, no threat of imminent death or dismemberment. Just two women being drunk and silly for a little while. 

She set the bottle aside with the other dozen and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “Uh, yeah… I do… ‘cause sometimes you just… gotta stab a guy. But you might not wanna… kill a guy. Though sometimes you gotta do that too.” Mercy waved a hand. “But ‘s’fine…. ‘s’alright… ‘s’a little knife…” She pulled said ‘little knife’ from her pocket. And it was just a short, fat pocket knife. Probably couldn’t do much damage unless you… stuck it in someone’s neck. Or their eye… or… the base of the skull… 

But anyway. They were talking about nonfatal. So. Mercy waved Erin closer. “You gotta… stick it somewhere an’ then… twist it-” She made the motion - sort of - with her hand. “- so the wound won’t close good. They’ll bleed…” Mercy giggled. “And it’ll fuckin’hurt… but it won’t… it won’t murder nobody. Probably.” After showing Erin - as much as one drunk person could show another drunk person anything - how to properly hold the little knife, as well as where to strike non-lethally, Mercy backed up a bit. “Now… come at me…” She motioned with both hands as she took up a mostly defensive position. “Try to stab me… it’ll be fine…” 

Because this was a good idea. It really, really was… 

Oh, this was a bad idea. Erin knew that already, and from the look in Mercy’s eyes she could tell that she knew it too. Especially when she brought out the fucking knife. “Oh, this is dumb,” was her immediate answer, wagging her finger over at her friend. She said the words and knew in her bones that this was very dumb. Didn’t stop the logical part of her that she killed two beers ago from taking the knife anyway. “Right. No murder,” Erin echoed Mercy’s words, practicing the manuever and gestures she’d just seen her do. “Alright, alright. I got this,” she nodded, maybe a little too confidently. But she wasn’t that stupid. Drunk, sure, but not--

Her entire body froze. One jab. It had taken one fucking jab for the blade to sink effortlessly into the skin of Mercy’s arm. “Oh, fuck. Oh fuck,” she hollered, wide eyes bouncing between the knife in her arm and Mercy’s face. Yet still, her hand still on the hilt, did she move. “What do I do?” She stared intensely at the other woman, panic setting in where her good sense should’ve been to begin with. “This was dumb,” she suddenly added, breaking her stillness to point a finger at the blonde. 

“‘S’fine,” Mercy said, gesturing vaguely. It was dumb. Considering their states. It was also a bad idea. But as bad ideas went, it wasn’t that bad. Mercy had had way worse ideas when under the influence of alcohol or other things. RIP the City of London that one time, amiright? Besides, Erin had this. She was practical. Smart. Knew her limits. It’s not like she would really be able to-OH. Oh.

Mercy froze at the same time Erin did. Well that was unexpected. “Okay… okay… just…” Mercy did her best not to giggle under breath at the situation, knowing Erin was probably Not Okay right now. So she held up her own finger at her friend. “Okay. One: don’t freak out, m’kay? ‘S’fine. Two-” Mercy blinked slowly. “-OW. Three: imma show you somethin’, hm?” She waved Erin’s finger away. This wasn’t dumb. Mercy had been stabbed before. The wound wasn’t deep, and it hadn’t hit anything important, even though it was bleeding down her arm. What happened next was dumb. And in hindsight, it could’ve been very, very dangerous. But Mercy trusted Erin. 

“Watch…” Without much preamble, other than to make sure Erin was paying attention, Mercy pulled the knife out of her arm and wiped the blood away with her hand. “Look…” She pointed at the stab wound. “Don’t freak out…” As they both watched, the bleeding slowly stopped, and the edges started to mend back together until there was only a thin, pink scar on Mercy’s arm. That too would likely fade with time. “‘S’cool, right?” 

Staring at the knife in Mercy’s arm sobered Erin up faster than a pot of coffee through an IV. Felt like it anyway, the longer she looked. Was--was Mercy laughing? Did she not feel the whole ass knife sticking out of her? Maybe it was a good thing she was as drunk as she was--maybe she didn’t even feel it at all. A small miracle in the midst of this idiocy? “I’m not freaking out.” A lie, clearly, and she backtracked. “Okay, I am. And you’re not. Which is weird. Really weird. If you stabbed me I’d definitely--” Mercy was shooing Erin away and she watched the blood trickle down her arm. 

Oh no. “I don’t think you’re supposed to--” But before she could protest, Mercy yanked it out and Erin couldn’t hold back the horrified gasp that overcame her. “Jesus, you just--” She cut herself off again. Between the panic and the alcohol, forming full fledged sentences felt impossible. But her brain started catching up with her common sense. She was bleeding. Just when Erin was about to turn and run into the bathroom for anything to clean her up with, something changed. 

The wound was healing. It was quiet for a good few minutes as she watched. Blinked a few times to make damn sure she hadn’t actually just passed out. But this was happening. It was healing. Slowly, but it was happening. When Mercy spoke again, Erin’s eyes jumped back up to meet hers and all the urgency rushed out of her. “Cool, cool, cool,” she repeated incredulously. It was pretty cool, actually, but she was still playing mental catch-up. So--Mercy wasn’t human. Seemed to be a common thread between most of her friends. Just not any she’d known as long as the one in front of her. Her head tilted to the side, hands resting on her hip. “We’re… gonna talk about this, right?” She glanced back down to her arm, then back up. 

“Nahh…” Mercy waved off the ‘not freaking out.’ “I’ve been stabbed… doze- no. Hundreds of times. Maybe thousands.” Mercy proceeded to yank the blade out of her arm - it really was fairly shallow, and had missed anything important - and wipe the blood off on her pants. If she had been sober, Erin’s own panic would’ve been far more concerning, but since neither of them was anywhere near clear-headed, Mercy just reached out and patted her friend on the arm. 

“‘S’fine… see?” She pointed to the slowly healing wound. “All better.” The knife was folded shut and tossed onto the couch, where it bounced and disappeared into the cushions. Mercy laughed to herself before turning back to Erin. The other woman was looking at her with an expression that for some reason caught Mercy’s attention much easier than any of the previous ones had. Mercy’s eyes followed Erin’s, down to her arm and back. Her own head tilted to match her friends. “Waaaiiiitt a minute… are you…” Mercy narrowed her eyes. “You know about… things. Dontcha?” Her expression turned to an excited grin. “Holy shit! Why didn’t you tell me?! This is… fantastic! What d’you know about? Like… vampires and fae and shit? Tell me.” 

For someone who’d just been stabbed, Mercy had been incredibly nonchalant about the whole thing. Even the way she brushed the blood off and tossed the knife away like it was some toy had been handled with little care. “Didn’t that even hurt?” Erin had to ask, narrowing her eyes, which were still glued to the small pink scar that had formed. 

Erin straightened her back at the woman’s question. “Yeah, I uh--I know things,” she nodded with the authority of a woman who knew more than what Erin actually knew. This whole… supernatural thing was an ocean she was still just belly deep in. She could still see the beach but there was a big blue vastness far ahead of her. “Vampires, fae, the whole shebang,” she confirmed. Alcohol. Oh, she just remembered alcohol existed. She turned for the first time since they’d started practicing back to her beer. Eyed Mercy the whole time she took a sip, gesturing towards her with her other hand. “So, what does that make… you?” She winced as soon as the question left her mouth. “Wait, sorry. Is that rude? Can I just... ask that?”

“Sure it hurt… it’s a fuckin’ knife in my arm,” Mercy snorted. “No point cryin’ over it though.” Mercy was used to pain, and to pushing through it. Pain meant you were still alive. That whatever had caused it hadn’t killed you yet. Not to mention the slight numbness that came with consuming as much alcohol as Mercy had. 

So Erin only received a slightly narrowed gaze from Mercy instead of the full-on look of skepticism she might have received had Mercy been sober. But after a moment, Mercy’s expression turned to a  grin. “That’s awesome.” It was always an interesting thing, meeting someone who already knew about the supernatural. And for it to be Erin, someone that Mercy considered an actual friend… a good friend at that… was even better. Though Mercy was still forever cautious. And she never revealed the identity of others like herself, no matter how drunk or impaired she was. 

Mercy snagged her own beer and flopped down on the couch, blinking heavily. “‘S’not rude. I wish more people would just… fuckin’ ask. Instead of…” She waved a hand vaguely. “Beatin’ around the bush. Course not a lotta people know about… things. So… there’s that. But, we’re friends, right? You’re like… my only real friend. ‘Cept Arthur. Who may or may not lament that title - among others - at this point in our…” Mercy huffed, “relationship. But… since you asked, and I know you’re not a hunter… since… you know… the whole stabby-stab freakin’ you out bit...” A long sip of her beer followed, the coming revelation hanging heavily in the air. “I… am a Valkyrie.”

Erin shifted uncomfortably under Mercy’s gaze, until at last she got that look of approval. She wasn’t about to forget that whatever Mercy was, she’d been able to heal herself in a matter of minutes. Could vampires do that? No, no--she was definitely alive. She’d been warm to the touch during their brief training session. Fae? She didn’t know what the hell constituted a fae exactly but… maybe? She wasn’t afraid, though. If Mercy had any ill-intent towards her, they wouldn’t have been friends for as long as they had been. 

“You’re right, I am your friend,” Erin lamented, slipping into the spot beside her, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.She was her friend though, even if Erin hadn’t been the best one lately, she could admit that. Her world had turned on its head and taken her for a ride, so she had some making up to do. “I don’t think your boyfriend likes me much though,” she smirked, recalling the way he’d very quickly skedaddled away from her. But if Mercy was supernatural, and considering how he’d run away from her at the mention of his identical-looking family members, maybe there was something else going on there. That was quickly forgotten when she got lost in Mercy’s dramatic pause, leading into a confession. Valkyrie. Erin sat there for a moment, eyes wide, searching her friend’s face for more clues. “Okay,” she nodded slowly, still staring, realizing she was about to expose herself on how little she actually knew. But she had to ask. “What’s… uh, what’s that?”

One of the advantages of Mercy’s species was that she looked absolutely human. No one would ever know the difference in everyday life. She had been human once, after all. So Mercy watched as the cogs in Erin’s head started to turn. She was processing, thinking over things, and so on. Mercy half-expected her to leave. But she didn’t. Instead, she plopped down beside Mercy on the couch. 

Mercy was… surprised. Pleasantly, for once. And despite her inebriation, her expression said as much, and that she appreciated it more than Erin could know. “Thanks…” Mercy told her, giving her own arm a bump. Mercy gave Erin’s smirk a small, confused frown. “Boyfriend? Wh- OHhhh. You mean Arthur.” Mercy snorted and shook her head. “Nooo… no, he’s… he’s not my boyfriend… he’s… mmm… he’s my…” Her brow furrowed, as it suddenly became very hard to classify her oldest friend at that moment. So Mercy’s brain took the easiest route. “Ex-hus- No. Fiance. Ex-fiance? … since ya know. We almost got married…” Mercy held up a single finger. “...once. ‘S’like… 200 years ago now? It... didn’t work out.” Mercy fiddled with her sleeve, the fact that she’d just told Erin that both she and Arthur were at least two centuries old not even phasing her. “But… I still love him, ya know? It’s… pretty pathetic I guess. Since… I don’t think he even… notices me like that anymore. He was… pretty mad at me for a long time.” Mercy gave Erin a tight smile. “So… yeah. Not my boyfriend.” Her rambling had completely lost the plot on why Arthur didn’t like Erin, so she didn’t ask about it at the moment. 

Besides, Mercy had just revealed what she was to Erin. There were certain to be questions, raised eyebrows, maybe even an exclamation or two. Mercy waited for it… watched Erin’s expression as it started to sink in… and then… nothing. Nada. Zilch. 

Mercy visibly deflated. “Valkyries?“ she asked, raising her own eyebrows. “Female warrior figure from Norse legends? Choosers of who lives and who dies in battle? Transporting worthy souls to Valhalla? Big fucking wings? Unkillable?” Mercy sighed. Of course not. “I don’t… do the soul thing. Or… the wing bit - not really - ... because no one read me the fine fucking print, but I-” Mercy touched her fingers to her chest. “- am older than I look. And virtually unkillable. Chaos and discord make me strong, and I can… exert certain influence over people… if I want.” There was more, of course, but Mercy paused there, needing another drink.

The cold beer in her hand was more grounding and necessary than Erin realized as Mercy continued to pour her secrets out between them. And maybe it wasn’t fair of her to think this, but she couldn’t help but feel some type of way about being left out of so much of her friend’s life. But then again--there was a whole side to Erin’s life she wasn’t about to spill to anyone right now. So she cinched those feelings and tossed them away, absorbing and going into listening mode. 

“Did you just say two hundred years ago?” Her eyes scanned her friend’s features, as if something would give her true age away. Things were falling into place though. Why Arthur’s face kept popping up in his family’s old photos, why he had bolted like he had out of the coffee shop that day. She’d touched on something he didn’t want anyone to find out. What was he though? “Wait, how old are you?” She asked as delicately as she could muster. She turned further, resting her elbow on the back of the couch. Her mouth opened to say something, one of the thousand questions bouncing through her brain, but all she could do was stare (not impolitely) as she pictured her friend as the ancient female warrior figure she’d just described. “Huh,” was all she could manage for a few moments. “What do you mean? What, uh--what kind of influence?” She tensed a little as that descriptor, certain fae-related memories in the form of water-logged promises and pheromone eggplant parm dinners rushing back to her.

It was rare that Mercy shared certain things about herself. Not because she didn’t trust most people (she didn’t) but because it was dangerous. Both for her and the people that knew. Arthur was one thing. He was OG immortal like her. Among other things. But Mercy hadn’t told anyone else in… years. Something about Erin made her want to tell the other woman. Maybe it was because they were friends. Erin never judged her too harshly for her choices. She might tell her they were stupid or fucked up or absolutely insane, but Mercy genuinely trusted her. Had she been sober, it might’ve been different. But it had been a long few weeks, and Mercy needed to tell someone about it. About herself. About Arthur. About… everything. Maybe it wasn’t fair to Erin (it wasn’t… not one tiny bit), but Mercy was hardly in a state to think that deeply. 

“Yep.” Mercy made a popping sound on the ‘p.’ “Two hundred years.” She watched Erin watch her, watched as her friend’s beer-soaked braincogs started turning… processing it all. She didn’t know Erin was researching Arthur’s family just yet, and that so much of what Mercy was saying was connecting those particular cogs. But even as drunk as she was, Mercy wouldn’t let out Arthur’s secret. She never had. So she waited, and when the inevitable question about herself followed, Mercy sobered ever so slightly. Something about answering this particular thing always seemed… well, sobering. 

She mirrored Erin’s posture, propping her arm on the back of the sofa. “This year... will be my 1200th summer since I was born. I was human then. My parents were human. My brothers and sisters too. But… when I was…” Mercy shook her head slightly. It was hard to remember exactly. “... thirty-five… thirty-six? I became what I am now. I chose it, so… it wasn’t a bad thing.” The trepidation that settled on Erin’s face wasn’t lost on Mercy, who sighed. “We have the ability to influence certain emotions. To… push… people to do things. But that emotion has to exist inside them already. Things like… hate, fear, outrage… love... can’t be created from nothing. But if there’s a spark… if we’re strong enough, we can fan that spark into an inferno. But even then… on some people… it doesn’t work.” She took a long drink. “I prefer helping people help themselves. To fight back… to… be stronger than the things that wanna hurt them…” She looked at her friend. “And before you ask… no. I haven’t used it on you. Not that you would know if I had, but… no. I haven’t.” Mercy grinned. “You stabbed me all on your own, lady.” 

Two hundred suddenly seemed incredible tame in comparison to what Mercy revealed to be her actual age. 1200. It didn’t feel real and Erin had a feeling it was going to take some time for that number to be tangible. Wasn’t gonna happen now, she knew that much. She listened, quiet but intently, anxious hands drawing the bottle to her lips until it was nearly empty. Her friend didn’t seem super thrilled to have to explain her ability, or that she hadn’t used it on Erin, and she understood that. She’d seen that look before on the faces of her other supernatural friends, which at this point seemed like practically all of them at this point. All of those discussions had readied her for this one, as much as they could at least. 

“That sounds kind of… cool, honestly?” she finally spoke, stumbling a little, the sincerity was there. “You don’t like--do it against their will though, do you?” Erin narrowed her eyes curiously, lifting the bottle to top off the last of the beer. Cringed when she brought up the stabbing. Considering the jaw-dropping information dump she’d just received, she’d nearly forgotten that crucial turning point in the evening. Her hand covered her forehead, sliding down slowly along her cheek. “I’m going to be sorry about that forever, I hope you know.” The corner of her mouth lifted into an innocent smile and she shrugged warily. “Thank God you’re unkillable, right?” 

Erin was quiet for a few moments more, sitting up slowly, pondering over the empty bottle in her hand. “Alright,” she nodded firmly, trying to push past the initial shock of this and into a clearer train of thought. She set her hand on Mercy’s knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to get us more drinks and then we’re going to sit here, and you’re going to tell me more about this fucking millenium-old lifetime you’ve been hiding from me all these years.” She smiled, trying to show her support here the best she could. Her friends were supernatural. That was just how this worked for her now. And she’d do her damndest to roll with this punch like she had with the others. It wasn’t like she didn’t have some of her own secrets anyway. “Sound good?”

The problem with revealing what she was to others wasn’t always how dangerous it could be. It also meant Mercy risked losing a friend. More often than not, people revealed their true nature when faced with something that they didn’t understand. Or that scared them. Or both. And Mercy understood. She really did. But even after a thousand years it never got easier to see someone that you’d trusted enough to tell your biggest secret to look at you with either revulsion, fear, anger, or an entire list of other very complicated emotions. And nine times out of ten, Mercy lost. And for someone that didn’t trust or make friends easily, each time one of those relationships crumbled, Mercy felt a bit of her faith in humanity fall away. 

So she answered Erin’s questions and waited for the inevitable, even though the other woman said she already knew about certain parts of the supernatural world. When it didn’t come, and Erin asked more questions instead of exiting the premises as fast as humanly possible, Mercy knew a look of earnest surprise crossed her face. And despite her reticence and her total inebriation, Mercy was grateful to Erin in that moment. “No… not really… it’s-” Mercy found it hard to explain. “More like the power of suggestion? The want to is there, already inside someone… however small… I’m that little voice - a muse, if you like… - that says ‘you know you want to,’ or… ‘you can do this.’ I can’t make people do things… that’s more like vampire compulsion… but I can heavily influence their decisions.” And even that wasn’t a good explanation in Mercy’s mind.

But again, Erin took it all in, and Mercy was still a bit unsure where they stood. So when Erin nodded and made a decision, Mercy let out a relieved breath and smiled. “Sounds perfect.” 

They would drink, and they would talk. Like normal people on a normal Saturday night. 

And for the first time in a long, long while, Mercy felt exactly that: normal. 

 ~