#MOLS on the other hand... i really like his hands. for reasons

[sartorially]

Some deals are better left unmade. Some people are better left unknown. But you're a cautious man, with too much faith in your heart.

A commission in which one draws their own characters is the best. @the-weirder & I have joint custody of so many that I forget other people like them too???

Anyway, Mols making a SUPER bad decision here, but it's for his wife. So. Like, forgive him? Okay?

[viennacherries]

Hiya!! I finished Kiss the Cook a little bit ago and loved it!!! Your writing has such good pacing to it, I really enjoyed reading it!

I also have a request, if you're interested: Rolan (or Gale tbh, works with any spellcaster) is in the middle of casting a spell but Tav/reader wants to tease him so they either 1, pin his hands together so he can't do somatic components, or 2, stick their fingers in his mouth to keep him from doing verbal components. This ofc leads to some nsfw shenanigans lmao

(My ao3 is Nightreader13)

Hope you're having an amazing day, and tysm for making such wonderful content, love ya 💜💜

tried to post it as a gift but it didn't let me! sorry about that.

this got away from me a bit but i hope you still like it! as requested: fingers in mouth to shut up a spellcaster. rolan/tav because i have brainworms.

thank you for the lovely message and prompt and for enjoying my writing! hope u love it <3

read on ao3 here

~~~

Summary:

NSFW, Rolan/Tav

"His hands curl into somatic shapes by his sides, and you realise he's speaking the incantation for Ice Storm. You're both backed into a corner like fish in a barrel, if he lets the spell loose you know you're done for.

You don't think. You shove your fingers into his mouth."

~~~

Rolan's temper lands you both in an alleyway, hiding from Flaming Fists, and you do what you have to in the name of shutting him up. In the end, neither of you stay very quiet.

~~~

Rolan has a fierce temper, when it comes down to it.

It surprises you somewhat, after seeing how he let Lorroaken walk all over him. Sure, he'd backed you and Aylin up when it mattered, but it had taken weeks for all of the bruises from the previous 'master of the tower' to heal. Though, you suppose you saw hints of it at Last Light, when Cal and Lia were missing.

It has its uses, admittedly. When you were ambushed by Bhaal worshippers in Bloomridge Park, and an innocent woman was struck down by one of them, his subsequent attacks were absolutely devastating. You could've stood back and left him to it, and he would've more than managed.

The fact he looks rather pretty when he's angry is an additional bonus; all tense muscles and sharp breaths. You blame your physical reaction to watching him fight on the fact he's the first male tiefling you've been around for an extended period in years. Your stupid infernal hindbrain had been telling you to bed him since he first raised his voice in front of you at the Grove.

Unfortunately, his temper has its downsides too. Like right now, for instance.

The two of you split from the group to search for Mol, who still hasn't turned up after being snatched from the inn in the Shadow-Cursed lands. Pairs made the most sense; more discreet than the whole troupe travelling together while still ensuring everyone had back up. Astarion had smirked when suggested you and Rolan pair up, arguing it looked less suspicious if the tieflings travelled together.

"If anyone asks, you can pretend you're lovers," he'd chortled. "Oh! And if you need to hide you can stuff yourselves into an alley and-".

You had elected not to let him finish that sentence, dragging Rolan away from camp before he had a chance to protest.

It had actually been reasonably pleasant. Despite initial impressions, Rolan is rather delightful company. Sure, he's still a dick, and nearly every other sentence that comes out of his mouth is an insult, but that just makes things more interesting. You'd found you were actually enjoying spending time with him.

Well. You had been. Until now.

It was your fault. You were distracted. He'd laughed at something you said, and you were busy looking at him. You could see a peek of his canines as he threw his head back, and the movement had pronounced the sharp line of his jaw and the muscle in his neck. You'd been so struck with the sight, and the awful realisation that you were actually starting to become attracted to him, that you'd smacked straight into the chest of a Flaming Fist.

"Oi! Devilspawn! Watch your fucking step!"

The man's voice was laced with malice. It's been years since you've been to Baldur's Gate, and it seems in your absence the city has become remarkably less tolerable. You suppose it's something to do with Elturel's descent, but the casually thrown slur stung either way.

"Sorry," you'd averted your gaze in a display of faux meekness. Usually you'd have him out on his arse for talking to you that way, but the streets are crowded and full of Fists. It's not worth the hassle. "Won't happen again, Manip."

"You sure as shit better hope it doesn't, or I'll put you and your Hellspawn boyfriend in the ground where you belong." He sneered around every word, flitting his eyes between you and Rolan. "Fucking foulblooded freak."

You'd grit your teeth, and started to nod, but just as the mercenary was about to step away Rolan had piped up.

"What the fuck did you call her? Watch your fucking mouth, Nul'zereb."

And now you're here. Next to a seething Rolan, in front of a Flaming Fist Sergeant, being slowly surrounded by other Fists as they take note of the commotion.

You raise your hands up in front of you defensively, "easy, please, he didn't mean it. We've had a long journey and-"

Rolan scoffs, seemingly intent on digging his own grave. "Bullshit , I meant every fucking word. They call us Foulbloods but these imbeciles probably can't tell a shit from a stew."

You shoot him a glare, but he doesn't look at you. Clearly he plans on dealing with this the hard way. Idiot. You feel your core twist. He's going to get you killed, for sure, but the fact he's willing to fight a crowd of people because they insulted you is unfairly attractive. Stupid. Dangerous. But really fucking attractive.

"You cheeky demon bastard!" The Fist shouts at him, and yep, the hard way it is. "I'll fucking flay you!"

Rolan is shouting back now, and his tail whips around violently behind him in a display of his mounting rage. "I'd like to see you try, you spoon-eared piece of-"

Okay, yep, that's more than enough of that.

You grab his wrist and utter the incantation for Dimension Door as quickly as you can manage, teleporting the both of you out of reach of the group of mercenaries surrounding you. As soon as your feet hit solid ground again you break into a sprint, dragging Rolan with you as he makes an indignant noise behind you. You hear the group shout, and the thunder of footsteps on the pavement as they pursue you.

Luckily, clad in robes compared to their metal plating, you and Rolan are quicker. You drag him through a few side streets, and then at the last minute you duck into an alleyway. It's a tight squeeze, but it's better than nothing.

You hiss your admonishments through your teeth at him in an attempt to keep your volume down. "What the fuck were you thinking, Rolan? I thought wizards were meant to be smart! You almost got us fucking killed!"

His eyes widen in shock, and he hisses through his teeth back at you as he argues. "Are you joking? What was I doing? You're the one that fucking walked into him! Besides, did you hear what he fucking called you? I can't believe you just-"

"Shut up!" He's raising his voice with every word and you have no idea how close behind you they are. "Of course I heard, but the middle of the street isn't the ideal spot to pick a fight with a group of Flaming Fists! They would've fucking flattened us!"

He scoffs, "as if, I fucking had them."

"Oh sure , sorry, I forgot how great and mighty you are. You obviously could've taken on a crowd of twelve blokes with military training."

He grits his teeth, "I still will if they fucking find us, what sort of hiding place is this anyway? If they spot us we're fucking cornered."

"You didn't give me much choice, did you? It's better this than-"

You cut yourself off at the sound of footsteps in the street. Rolan opens his mouth to say something but you place a finger over his lips to shush him. His mouth clamps shut reluctantly.

You can feel your heart beating in your ears as the footsteps get closer. They're right within earshot now, the slightest noise will alert them to where you are. You hold your breath.

Six of the Flaming Fists round the corner, and suddenly you're peering at them from the alley perpendicular to the street they stand in, barely 10ft away. You're shrouded by darkness, but if one of them happens to look this way carefully you're sure you'll be spotted. You daren't move.

You hear muttering and turn to look at Rolan, and you realise he's preparing a spell. His hands curl into somatic shapes by his sides, and you realise he's speaking the incantation for Ice Storm. You're both backed into a corner like fish in a barrel, if he lets the spell loose you know you're done for.

You don't think. You shove your fingers into his mouth.

His head whips back around to look at you, eyes wide in shock and anger. It suddenly dawns on you that. Well. You've got your fingers in his mouth. Three of them.

Not the most elegant solution to a problem you've come up with, that's for sure. But hey, it works.

He tries to draw back to free himself, and you can tell from his eyes that he's absolutely seething, but you can't risk him speaking and alerting the guards. You press your fingers down on his tongue and push them further into his mouth. His head backs into the wall, leaving him nowhere to go, and he writhes around the digits in his mouth. You press a little deeper. He makes a quiet, strangled noise in the back of his throat, before he finally resigns himself to his fate.

You stare back out of the mouth of the alley. The mercenaries are still there, pacing through the side-streets searching for you, but they haven't spotted you yet. After a few moments, they're all out of view, and you hear their voices disappear into the distance.

As soon as you can't hear them anymore, you let out a sigh of relief.

It's at this point you remember rather suddenly that your fingers are, in fact, buried in Rolan's throat.

You turn back to look at him.

He still looks angry, absolutely. But his eyes are softer around the edges, a little glazed over, and his tail whips around wildly where it's pinned behind him. He's panting a little around the digits, and you realise there's a weight against your thigh that wasn't there before. You raise your eyebrows and smirk.

"Is that a quarterstaff in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

He scowls, and makes a noise as if he's trying to speak, but you press down a little harder on his tongue and it turns into a whine.

This is an interesting development. Not an unwelcome one, but definitely unexpected.

You feel the smirk on your face widen, "you know," you say, as if you're pondering something, "you're much less annoying with your mouth occupied."

He scowls, but his breathing harshens. You grin.

"This is the problem with wizards," you know you're goading him, but you can't help yourself. Your hindbrain has kicked in, and he's right where it wants him. "They're all talk, aren't they? Take away your hands or mouth and what are you? You couldn't even cast a simple cantrip right now, could you?"

He makes a noise like a growl, and you can feel yourself rapidly approaching the point of no return, but you're finding it hard to care with his length pushed rock hard against your leg. You push your weight against it experimentally, and he whines around your fingers.

"Gods, you make some pretty noises. You look fucking delicious when you're angry, you know that? Defending my honour in front of all those people, spitting infernal curses at them. You wanna be the only one who talks to me like that, huh?"

His eyes are locked on yours, and he hesitates.

"Go on, now, tell me the truth."

There's another brief moment of pause before he shuts his eyes and nods.

"Good boy." He groans at that, and the noise sends heat rushing to your core. "Maybe you'll get a chance, but not til I'm done with you. Wanted to fuck you since I heard your petulant grousing in the Grove, I'm gonna fucking enjoy this."

He's writhing against you now, seeking pressure against his erection, but you pull back enough that he can only brush against you. The noise he lets out is pitiful.

"Shit, Rolan. You look lovely like this. Mouth wrapped around my fingers, all needy and desperate underneath me. Suck my fingers, show me how much you want this."

He responds instantly, hollowing his cheeks around you and stroking the length of your fingers with his tongue. You moan at the feeling. His mouth is hot and warm and his tongue is enthusiastic in its movements. Your noise seems to spur him on, and his eyes roll into the back of his head as he closes them, redoubling his efforts as he works your digits. You can feel slick pooling in your small-clothes.

You adjust your stance, rearranging your bodies so that his cock is rubbing against you between your thighs. The friction is delicious, but not enough between all the layers of clothing you're both wearing. Even so, he still moans as you grind into him.

Undoing the clasps of his robes is difficult with just your non-dominant hand, but eventually you free him from the confines of his robe and undergarments, gripping his cock in your fist. The noise he makes is completely lecherous, and it has you tightening your grip and twisting your wrist on the upstroke. He's not sucking your fingers anymore, just moaning around them, but it doesn't matter. He sounds fucking obscene and you're completely addicted as you wrench every lewd noise you can from him.

He's grabbing at your own robes now, trying to undo them, but he's struggling between the movement of your hand on his cock and the distraction of your fingers on his tongue. You pull your hand from his mouth, and the minute you do he groans and pulls you into a bruising kiss. It's feral and uncoordinated, both of your hindbrain's completely running the show now, overcome with the need to rut into one another. You release your grip on his cock to give him better access to your own robes.

He makes quick work of them, pushing them out of the way and pulling your small-clothes to the side to rub his cock against your slit. You both groan, and you lean backwards into the wall behind you as you hoist a leg up to plant it on the wall opposite.

He leans into your ear, hissing in a low tone that has your walls fluttering, and you bring your hands up to clutch at his chest. "Is this why you really dragged us down here? You're that desperate for my cock that you have to accost me in an alleyway? Fucking sorcerers. So full of yourself, when what you really need to be full of is a nice fat knot."

You moan wantonly and he groans against the shell of your ear, rubbing himself against your clit. The action has you keening.

"Gods, Tav, you're fucking dripping. Not sure you even deserve anything after pissing around like that earlier. Tell me how much you want my knot, maybe then I'll consider giving you it."

The logical part of your brain knows he's as desperate as you are, hard and heavy against your core, but the feral infernal instincts that have taken over would rather die than risk him stepping away without fucking you. The words spill from you easily without a second thought.

"I fucking need it, Rolan, need your fucking cock in me. Need you to bite me and mark me up while you split me open on your knot, need your cum inside me."

He teases his cock against your entrance, but he doesn't sink in. His words are breathless. "Yeah? Yeah you need it? Need my knot?"

You wail, "yes, fuck, please I fucking need it. Had me so wet, defending me like that, wanted to mount you then and there-".

The noise he makes is absolutely ruinous, and you moan back in answer. There is absolutely zero upper brain function going on in your skull anymore, you need him to fuck you into this wall right now or you might actually die.

He seems to feel the same, and slowly he eases his length into you. He buries his face into your neck and you wail and shudder as you feel the ridges on his cock drag against your walls with every inch he sinks further. By the time he's sheathed fully inside of you, his pelvis against yours, you're panting and writhing around him. His tail reaches around and wraps around yours, and they snake together in a tight coil.

He's shown remarkable restraint given the circumstances, sinking his cock into you slowly, but as soon as you clench your muscles around him his resolve snaps. He pulls his hips back and snaps them back into you, setting a brutal and rapid pace that has you sobbing. The angle, with your leg hoisted up, has every thrust hitting the soft spot inside your walls, and when you close your eyes at the sensation you swear you're seeing colours that don't exist, that's how intense and all-consuming the pleasure is.

He teases the soft skin at the base of your throat with his canines, and the sharp drag has you whining and baring your throat to him on impulse. It's pure instinct, your body begging for a mating bite, and he growls into your skin as he gives in to his own instincts and sinks his teeth into you.

The pain shoots through you like ice in your veins, but your mind and core sing . The pinch and sting is the perfect crescendo to the mounting pleasure, and with several shaky, panting moans you come undone around him, crying out as your whole body tremors. It's the most intense orgasm you've ever had, and your toes tingle as your release crashes over you.

He cries out, releasing his hold on your throat, and his hips stutter and pace falters as he chases after his own release. You feel his knot growing every time is catches against the rim of your cunt. Just as you start to cry at the feeling, half convinced it's going to rip you in half, he sinks it fully into you and it pulses and expands as he empties himself into you with a loud shout of pleasure. With every rope of hot spend he spills into you, his cock twitches hard into that perfect spot inside you, and without warning you're met with another orgasm which has you squeezing around him as he finishes. He groans at the feeling, low in his throat, and grinds himself into you as his cock finally gives its last, valiant pump of seed.

He groans into your neck, nosing his way up your throat and planting open mouthed kisses under your ear. You whine, and slowly lower your shaking leg back down to the floor. The change in position pushes his cock into you again, and you both grunt, overstimulated and spent. You stand there, locked together and panting for breath. He laves his tongue over the spot where he bit you, sucking a mark over it. The pain is almost too much, but the primitive part of you loves the feeling and you moan despite yourself.

There's silence after that. It stretches for a long moment as you both attempt to catch your breath, stuck together in the tight space of the alley with Rolan's knot keeping you tied together. When you speak, your voice comes out hoarse and blissed-out.

"I'm sorry for. You know. I didn't actually mean to, if you believe me."

He laughs into your throat, and rubs his nose into the pulse point under your ear in an uncharacteristically intimate gesture, "I'm not sure I do, but I'm not sure I particularly care anymore, to be frank."

You laugh too, "fair enough. I'd do it again, to be frank."

You both break down into warm, breathless laughter as you hold eachother. Slowly, you feel his knot shrink and he slides out of you. His spend gushes down your thighs, and he bends sideways to look, before moaning and throwing his head back against the wall behind him.

"That's absurdly hot. Fuck . You're lucky I just knotted you or I'd have you again right here."

You rub your thighs together, and whimper quietly, "I'd let you."

He moans again, "don't fucking say shit like that. That's not fair at all."

You shrug, "wasn't trying to be fair. If you don't like it, maybe you should do something about it."

He rolls his head forward to look at you, opening his eyes and levelling you with a hooded-eyed look that has your core pulsing. "Shut your mouth, or I'll have to shut it for you."

You shrug, then smirk. "I dare you."

In hindsight, you think Rolan was onto something earlier. Doing things the hard way is much more fun.

[10underoot2]

I finally rewatched Queen of Tears Episode 16.

Its given me a lot of clarity on why I didn't like it all that much. The episode feels very filler like, reiterating what I already know, no development nothing to draw me in. So here's a list of thing I really like vs things I had beef with: 

The Good:

- Hyunwoo's understanding of what marriage is is very profound and beautiful. Really appreciate that bit.

- The employees in this corporate sector have been 10/10 throughout. I cannot with how much I love them to bits. Still not over 'I just want to see the rich argue' 😭😂

- Yangi's bond with Hyunwoo is absolutely 10/10 

- I like Haein trying to find the reason of their divorce. It's important for her cause why did two people who love each other want to divorce each other. But again I hate how this wasn't a main cause of comcern around epsidoe 7. Like don't brush over it fam. Don't you wanna know why the man you love and who loved you to bits wanted to divorce you?

- Those last 7-8 mins. Though I wish I had more of them. I needed a linear passing of time. Something like the Germany Montage at the start would've been perfect. But at the very end just 'Way home' playing, Hyunwoo seeing Haein as an angel to pick him up, the familiar happiness and love just spreading around them was beautiful to witness. Really got me teary eyed both times I watched it. 

The Bad: 

- I'm not even getting into the uselessness and bad execution of the whole Yoon Eun Sung plot line since episode 14. 

- Still have no idea why Mol Soo Hee she wanted Suwan dead? Like there's no rationale? Why not kill Hae-in or SeoCheol in all those 20 years as well? It makes no sense to me.

- the episode felt so unnecessarily dramatic. I get it he got shot and was in a car accident but I was so sure he'd be okay? Did not understand or appreciate the over dramaticness also those Yangi shots in that sequence were a little tooo dramatic for me

- I don't like Haein getting back her memories cause they said the hippocampus would be destroyed. It's my fault for looking for logic in the first place but can we please stick to what we established writernim. Also wasn't this the whole problem that she's not getting back ANY memories EVER?!

- The scene between the mothers at this point was also unnecessary. We could've gotten to this realization back in the episode this was brought up the first time. She knew the location and date I don't see how reviewing her album was the light bulb moment.

- I feel super bad for this one but for me even Hae-in's bedside speech, once Hyunwoo woke up, lacked sincerity. As much as she might realize she loves him. He's still a stranger. Who does she miss? Her husband who's love she has no recollection of? The man she loved but she has no idea how she loved him? Take out the loss of memories and it would've hit me like a truck. Like she's not even holding his hand as she waits cause she recently met him. What am supposed to cry over here? What could've been? The pre ep 15 Baekhong I dearly misssed at this point?

- More on the Hyunwoo hospital scene. When he says 'I had forgotten' As sweet as it is I already knew all of it. It was so ill placed I didn't have to see it here.  Also like what does she care? She doesn't remember if you forgot or not in the first place 💀

- The Yangi x Haeina acene in the hospital - what notebook are we talking about? Did I miss something? Did I fall asleep somewhere like what?! Also I feally do like Yangi but I thought all of the scenes with him were kinda forced this episode.

- The conversations where Haein tells Hyunwoo he's perfect. Is it just me or is Haein extremely expressive after the surgery? I can never imagine Haein telling Hyunwoo that he's perfect even if she think so. It was a little off putting for me being introduced to this new character in the last episode. I miss my inexpressible power girl.

- Just the voice over off what happened with Mol Soo Hee would've sufficed but I guess we had to see that SNU degree in action. 

- The turn in Da hye's emotion - as sweet as it was also felt forced. They just showed me earlier she didn't care for him and bullied him. Now you want me to belive she mistook her feeling okay sureeee 🙃

- This is what meant by killing the temperment. They start Hyunwoo's monolougue 'We forgave those who we used to resent and then we cut to this long scene of Aunt Beom ja. Then we have Hyunwoo, then we have his brother's scene. The editing was off here. I wish we had a monologue of just them. It all threw me off so much.

And here's why a sequence of Baekhong was so necessary cause remember the first episode we instantly fall in love and get curious because of that lovely montage of BaekHong Germany scenes. 

All in all good ending, horrible last two epsiode. Kinda left a bad taste in my mouth. It makes me long so much for the show I saw and fell in love with before. I have never felt this way about a last episode, I think I just expected better from this show. 

[ersetu-gazette]

Celestial Warlock Zorian

My mind keeps on wandering to an idea of an au I had, not sure if this would be during specifically the time loop in MoL, or other time loops, but I love the idea of Zorian being recruited (read: extorted) by the angels to forever be an assistant to the time loops. A template is permanently created for the Sovereign gate that is created at the beginning of each loop. This is to give the main controller a friend across all loops, an advisor, and a resource to do the ethically ambiguous things that they can't do due to the contract. I'm not exactly sure how it would out, but I just really like the idea of a Zorian after being a loop copy escaping to the real world instead of circumventing punishment is forced into service by the angels, and this cynical, curious, and otherwise normal boy is forced to be the angel's lapdog. Basically a dynamic not too dissimilar from Celestial warlocks in d&d but the patrons are much more involved and controlling. In each loop Zorian is created whole cloth, with the angels visiting the real world before hand to set up ways for him to integrate into society like they prepared the Sulrothum in the book. He primarily spends a few loops getting used to the cover story and the new culture & time period he finds himself in and then approaches the main controller once they've properly adjusted to the loop. he's been giving orders to help them with everything but he has his own spite, reservations, and rebellions to this, exercising his free will whenever possible.

Zorian and the new controller getting closer together is never a question of if but how long, since they're the only two that will never lose awareness of the loops. It also is a point of tension if the controller empathizes with Zorian's permanent servitude or not. No matter what the controller will hide some of the joy and gratitude they have they'll have a permanent friend (Zorian's empathy powers make the attempts to hide useless) A couple of thoughts on how this could work: 1) Zorian is recruited after the events of Mother of Learning and is forced to be the advisor/guide/confidant of the next controller, but somehow the time loop is fucked up even more and he and the new protagonist have to scramble to fix/ survive this mess. This is with a new cast of characters in the future focusing on how the world modernizes and changes to cultural norms. 2) Zorian actually was recruited and existed before the events of MoL and inverses the dynamic of Zach and Zorian, where Zorian is the more experience time traveler of the two. Zach almost definitely harbors a puppy crush at the cool nerdy archmage in his corner and Zorian appreciates a controller that is more on his side than others. Zorian is initially suspicious of Jornak and Zach dissmisses it as jealousy. When Zorian thwarts Jornak's scheme Zach embarrassingly sits through an "I told you so lecture" (and maybe the two talk about why Zach assumed jealousy was the key motivator from Zorian). 3) Zorian's service is timeless and he's forced to be there for all loops, even in the ancient past. He has to be the assistant to Shutur-Tanara as a young person, and deals with the crisis of being there for so much ancient history. (Also in this version Shutur-Tanara is a trans woman. No reason specifically why but I think it'd be great if Zorian's main concern is trying to stop imperialism and colonization and his modern cultural norms meanwhile Shutur-Tanara's main thought's are "man I wish I was born a woman." Eventually when Zorian is educating her on modern concepts he mentions trans people and that catches Shutur's attention. ST: "Wait, that's a thing? What magic is needed to change my body?" ZK: "I will cover that later once you agree that conquering continents and colonizing other cultures are bad." ST: ". . . make me a woman and I'll try to listen with a more open mind.") Zorian also meets some of the eleven immortals and a young Quatch-Ichl who he ends up taking a partially mentor/parental role within the time loop. Idk, there's a lot in this idea that I'm really interested in and would be curious to hear everyone else's thoughts.

[irulaan]

I think Raphael would be a terrible father. At least at the beginning (we’re ignoring the fact he’s literally The Devil™. jk we can’t)

Welcome to my ted talk, it’s just a bunch of words. I doubt this makes any sense

Despite my belief that he's adept at charming people and appearing nice, he still manages to do some terrible things to children (eeeh, Mol?). Like, seriously, a contract with a child? Even if we all know he could charm a piece of furniture into whatever he wants. So, handling a somewhat grown-up child wouldn't be a challenge for him, I guess.

A toddler? Absolute hassle. He doesn’t harbor strong feelings about them, nor does he find them repulsive, but he does consider them utterly useless. Requiring round-the-clock attention, they're a burden he can't comprehend why anyone would want. If handed a toddler, honestly, he'd let them cry until they're so exhausted they fall asleep.

Another reason why I think he would make a terrible parent (aside from the fact that he’s literally a devil) is his relationship with his own father, which is also awful. I mean, he absolutely despises Mephistopheles. I'd venture to say it's because Raphael feels like his father believes he's incapable of achieving his ambitious goals. Plus, our dear devil often behaves like a petulant child who didn’t get what they wanted (remember the whole crown of Karsus and so on).

Let’s continue… ehem, Enver Gortash? Like Raphael had this poor child inside his House of Hope where he was beaten by debtors and saw a lot of atrocities. Yeah, he doesn’t even have a paternal instinct.

Ugh, I’m feeling like a Raphael hater!

Let’s move on to the somewhat delulu part: Actual children of his own… finally!

Since our dear devil is a cambion, possessing this inherent humanity within himself (like his penchant for singing, poetry, and writing), I believe he craves things that mortals have, such as affection, closeness or even love (but doesn’t understand it). So, if someone is foolish enough to have children with him, I think he would see it as an opportunity to mold someone from their very first breath. Everything he does is connected to his grand ambition of becoming the king of hell, so having a child doesn’t sound too bad in that context.

He would completely ignore his child’s needs and would be pretty negligent overall. Would plot against Mephistopheles with them.

But to be loved is to be changed, and if someone is both brave enough to love him and start a family with him… well, I think we can appeal to his more human side. I think he could be able to feel ‘love’ for his child but he’s never going to be able to be a decent father. He will go from evil to mean. I really hope their other parental figure is treating them with love.

I think his first child ever will grow to resent him, even if Raphael tried to shape them to be a piece of his giant plan. Mortals are bounded to emotions.

But this is fantasy! I’d be delulu sometimes thinking he could be a great dad! Like actually being warm to his sons and daughters, reading poetry and living in a quiet home, away from the city and near a lake.

[kudzuoath]

Needful Things

With the reappearance of symptoms foretelling of his arcane hunger, Gale seeks out the party’s paladin to plead his case. He needs help. Hopefully Odette is the kind of person he believes her to be. 

Or, Gale and Odette experience mutual attraction and care. Neither one of them acknowledges it.

—

The party’s paladin was taciturn, and brutal on the field of battle. Not someone he typically would have felt drawn to. But then he watched the way Odette interacted with the tiefling children at the grove. Kindly. With a soft voice and a reassuring hand.

Or in the case of the little helion Mol, with a grin and a witty rejoinder that came to her lips as if it were second nature.

There were other things, too. The way she threw herself headlong into danger, flaming greatsword first, the moment she spotted someone in need. How she treated each battle like a game of lanceboard – or the way she carefully handled and collected the books they came across in their travels.

That last bit was the first thing he’d noticed actually – only someone who loved them the way he did would handle them with such care. Even the copies she set back down. It’s not what he expected from a warrior – though perhaps he was letting his biases get the better of him with that.

There was something about her. Under the blood and the bared teeth and the black tattoos covering her neck and forearms. A cleverness. A curiosity. And tying it all together, a surprising kindness.

So one evening in camp he approached her. She was sitting close to the fire, hunched over a tome they’d found in the ruined temple of Jergal.

“That looks like a fascinating read,” he said, unable to help himself.

Odette startled. She nearly took his leg out with her tail when it whipped back and forth. “What?”

“The book?”

“Oh – oh. Yes.” With a faint frown, she closed it and gave him her full attention. Her mismatched eyes were curious – but wary. Not unusual for her, he’d noticed. Though he had also just managed to sneak up on her.

“Did – you need something, Gale?”

“Well, all this travel and adventure has made it somewhat difficult to find my moment, but there’s something rather important I need to speak with you about – if you would be inclined to listen to me this fine evening.”

“Isn’t everything these days?” She gestured at the log she’d perched on, the faintest of half smiles breaking through her stoicism. “Have a seat. Unspool your woes. You won't be the first.”

He itched to ask more about the book. But that wasn’t what he was here for. “How shall I begin… ah! Yes! The beginning. You see, since you freed me from that stone I found myself trapped in I have seen you demonstrate remarkable guile and courage –”

Her smile dropped for some reason. And – was her gaze a little frosty all of the sudden? Did she not believe him?

“ – The way you diffused the tension between Aradin and Zevlor! How you convinced Kagha to release the girl. Or charged in to save that boy from those harpies. And you’ve demonstrated a fair amount of temperance as well – many a paladin would have run that fellow at the bottom of Jergal’s temple through, even though he’d shown no will to harm us! In short, I’ve grown to trust you, Odette.”

Silence. For several seconds that, by the third one, were starting to send prickles of unease down his spine. My but didn’t this woman have a stare on her that could freeze fire! The thing was, he couldn’t see what he’d done to invite it.

Though… perhaps it was just her face? It wasn’t the first time. She only really seemed to gentle around the very young, or very vulnerable. Perhaps it took conscious effort to do so.

“I see.” Another pause. “You’re being genuine, aren’t you?”

He balked. “Of course I am! I am many things, but I’ve never been accused of lying about my feelings towards others.”

That faint smile returned, and she let out a soft little laugh under her breath. She shook her head and ran a hand through her short raven curls with a sigh. “No, you wouldn’t would you? You have my apologies, Gale. I’m not particularly used to people being so complimentary.”

“With how often you save people?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Gratitude and… flattery are different things, I think. Or… compliments, isn’t it? That’s what they are when they’re genuine…” This last bit was to herself.

He might have been offended if not for how clearly baffled she was. Personally, he didn’t know what to make of her reaction. It was… odd. And it made him wonder what she’d been doing before the Nautiloid captured them. What roads had their Paladin walked? And what Oath now kept her?

“Well, nevertheless,” he said, pushing forward. “The reason I make a point of saying this is that I’ve grown confident enough to tell you something I’ve yet to tell another living soul. Except for my cat.”

She turned to face him fully now. The only hint of emotion he could glean from her face was in the tilt of her head, and the slight furrow beginning to form between her brows. His heart leapt into his throat as the moment came to bear down on him. This was it. He may well find himself a wizard alone. And he was no Elminster – particularly not now, between the tadpole and the orb.

“You see I have this… condition. Very different from the parasite we share. And just as deadly.”

“Can it be cured?” she asked. Immediate, serious. She was sitting at attention and leaning in, examining him with fresh eyes and real, visible concern. He noted the moment she spotted the darkened veins around his eye, and began to follow them down to where they vanished under his shirt. Surely not the first time they’d been noticed. But the first they might hold her any significance.

The way she looked at him. Ready to leap to his aid. It made his throat feel a little tight. And brought to mind his befeathered and bewhiskered friend back in Waterdeep.

“No, it cannot be cured,” he said softly. Swallowing around a lump in his throat. He cleared it and sat up straighter himself. “And I can assure you I left no page unturned in reaching that conclusion.”

Odette seemed to draw back slightly as he said this, eyes shuttered. Something he couldn’t blame her for, given he’d all but told her his days were numbered. Woe betide them all should she learn of exactly how numbered all of their days might be, purely by virtue of his company.

Though that revelation… that one he’d keep close to the chest a while longer. If he were very lucky – lucky enough to survive the tadpole, and find his way back to his tower – she need never know the extent of the threat he posed.

“I can keep this condition under control, as indeed I've done for a significant amount of time! But that was under different circumstances altogether. Home, in Waterdeep.”

“Gale… stop blowing hot air and tell me what you need.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and her hands were fists in her trousers.

“What it comes down to is this,” he said, holding up a finger. He was patently unable to give up his habit of lecturing. Particularly with his nerves strung tight enough to snap and his heart a throbbing drum trying to choke him. He trusted her. He could only hope she proved worthy of it. He thought she would. Hoped.

“Every so often, I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the Weave inside.”

There.

“...Are you telling me you’re addicted to magic?” Odette said. Her voice was flat, toneless. But her hands were no longer fists.

“What? No – no. It’s nothing like that. Magic isn’t some – some narcotic to me. It’s literally a lifesaver.”

She stared at him. “It’s not that I doubt you – only that I’ve seen what can happen to people addicted to drink when they go too long without it.” Her voice darkened. “What they can do to people. And how, ultimately, the lack of it can kill them.”

The unfortunate thing was, she had a point with that comparison. Even if it didn't apply here.

“Were it an addiction, it might provide some other benefit than keeping me alive,” he said. And realized a moment after doing so that technically, it did. In that it was also keeping everyone and everything else in his vicinity alive and intact. But – no. Not that. Not now. “It is more a salve for a burn, medicine for an infection – though it wont cure what ails me.”

A new tension in her shoulders drained away. “I see.”

“I would not burden anyone other than myself with this were the stakes not so high, and the means of obtaining such artifacts challenging for a humble wizard to face alone.” He leaned forward. Fear sawed at him now. He hadn’t expected her to agree outright of course – he still didn’t. But he had to absorb something, and soon. Elsewise all might well be lost, tadpole be damned. “It’s been a tenday at least since I last consumed an artifact – since before we were abducted. It’s only a matter of time before my craving returns.”

In truth, he could feel it already. An unpleasant tingling numbness deep in his chest. One that made his heart beat just slightly out of tune. That froze his lungs. It was only a bit of morning frost at the moment. But all too soon he would be reduced to gasping on his back, hands pressed to his chest as if that might hold the snarling demon within at bay.

“That is why I turn to you, I need you to help me find magic items to consume,” he said. Intense. Unable to help himself even though he’d planned the rational facade. His hand was pressed over his hammering heart, fingers clawed in his shirt. The memory of what was soon to come biting under his palm. “It is vital. Dare I say it, critical.”

There weren’t words to describe the danger. His panic at perhaps being rejected. He would turn to petty thievery if he must. Not for his own sake, but for the sake of every living being around them, should it come to that. He would need them, if only to clear enough ground so as to minimize the hells he would unleash in his death.

Odette was watching him with a new wariness. His intensity had perhaps been… a little much. But once he’d noticed that creeping hunger in his chest… the panic had taken root in his tongue. Though it might prove needful. And may well have served to illustrate his genuine need better than if he’d managed to remain collected.

“Where are we going to find these items?” she said.

That wasn’t a no.

“We’ve already done the finding – in fact you have one in your possession as we speak.” He gestured to where her greatsword lay. It glowed like a dying ember, even sheathed. “You know for yourself how hardwon such an item was and it will be no easier when even more are required to assuage my hunger.”

As he’d said before – he was no liar. He wouldn’t pretend this would be easy. The least of what he owed her was that honesty.

“There will be danger involved. Or great cost.”

Odette’s eyes had remained on her sword as he spoke. He’d heard the tale of how she’d gotten it. On the Nautiloid. From a devil. His understanding was that it had been a difficult battle, barely won and only undertaken out of sheer desperation with the temporary alliance of her illithid captors. Giving her allies the time they needed to reach the alien transponder that had ultimately dumped them all into this wilderness.

She let out a long sigh, and unsheathed the weapon. Flames danced up and down the blade, merrily viscous. Its sudden heat made the night air steam slightly around them. Very carefully, she offered him the hilt, and met his gaze.

“Take it."

Gale’s mouth didn’t quite fall open, but it was near thing. He stared at the sword instead.

And then his panic melted away like so much snow falling on a wildfire. He’d expected… well. He hadn’t known what to expect. But Odette disarming herself was not among them. He’d been right. As he typically was of course. Right to trust her. Right to tell her. Like his panic, his tension drained too. And all at once the symptoms of his hunger felt far less pressing.

For indeed, they were less pressing. It was the fear. There was still time. And to feed it too soon… it might upset the balance. Might increase its need to consume. He would have a hard enough time keeping up with it as things were. No need to tempt fate.

“I knew I could count on you!” he said. “And – and utterly pleased as I am by your enthusiasm, there is still time. I did not leave things quite until the last moment. I’m a good deal cleverer than that! Keep your weapon for now. Perhaps we shall find something less dear to be parted with. Faerun overflows with magically infused treasure after all!”

Odette considered him for a moment, but re-sheathed her sword.

Then, in a move that made his heartbeat stutter she set her hands on his shoulders and squeezed lightly.

“Thank you. For asking for help, Gale. I know… it’s not an easy thing.”

Her gaze was as true as her heart was. And he found himself wondering how he’d written her off, no matter how briefly. A wizard she was not. But perhaps she was something just as good. A truly, deeply, decent soul. No matter her viciousness in a fight.

“Nor your promise to sacrifice these items, Odette,” he said, his voice dropping with softness unfeigned. “I know what I am asking –”

“There’ll always be magic daggers and enchanted rings,” she said, cutting him off. “You’re the only Wizard of Waterdeep I know, though. Don’t…” she swallowed. He caught a glimpse of an old pain on her face. One that made those eyes – one brown and one purple – look so lightless he might have been frightened had the emotion not been so clearly one of hurt. Her grip tightened slightly on his shoulders and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. When she finished her thought, it was in a whisper soft voice. “Don’t kill yourself with your silence.

He lifted his hands to cover hers. “Believe me, I shan’t be quiet should my need arise.”

“Good.”

For a moment, they watched each other. And Gale couldn’t help but think of how long it had been since mortal hands – or the hands of anyone at all – had touched him. There had only been Tara. His heart beat stuttered as he looked at the planes of her face, illuminated by the firelight. It was a beautiful sight. He found himself wishing to stroke his thumb over the black flame tattooed on her forehead for some odd reason. Or better, to follow the curved pattern of dark flames along her jaw with his fingertips.

Odette was smiling back at him, and there was a softness there. But then she seemed to notice their closeness. She let go of him abruptly and pulled back. Put distance between them as she busied herself with setting aside her sword, with repacking the book.

He was all at once given the impression of many doors closing and locking one after another. By the time she turned back to look at him, her face was settled back into its normal vaguely intimidating neutrality.

“I should try to get some sleep,” she said. “And so should you. We need to find where those bloody goblins have holed up with the Druid. Interesting as that ruin turned out, our new friend is not the cure we’ve been looking for.”

“Indeed not,” he agreed, standing. He recognized a dismissal, no matter how kindly given. He made a dramatic gesture and half bowed. “Dear lady, may you sleep the sleep your kindness so richly deserves!”

She let out a surprised laugh, that mask breaking again. “And may you rest your eternally wagging tongue, dear wizard.”

A dig, but she said it with a fondness he found gratifying. He wasn’t unaware of his talkative nature, when he’d been given half the chance to chatter. Good that she seemed to like it.

“I shall do my very best to oblige.”

Gale returned to his tent with a lightness in his heart most unfamiliar, and a smile he would have been hard pressed to extinguish.

[aghostwithnoname]

Official Fuck Raphael/Hope Appreciation Post

Okay, so this is probably going to upset people but I don't care. I'm real sick of this "Raphael is so hot" BS. Like, firstly, that man is MID at best. Secondly, are we not gonna talk about the fact this man is a certified abuser in every sense of the word? Like, sure he's sweet-talking and clever (most abusers are imo). Newsflash: real monsters are rarely people you find unattractive!!!

What really grinds my gears is that you can stumble on Raphael making a deal with a literal child re: my sweet baby Mol and people are like, "but he's hot though". You can walk through his fucking house filled with all the poor bastards who never stood a chance making a deal with him, stuck forever being punished for their "sins", and people will be like, "Omg, my little cringe man" like??? (Holy god, that whole quest fucked so hard with my religious trauma.)

But if not the BIGGEST fucking red flag for this public adoration of Raphael is how he's treated Hope. It's like to them, she doesn't even exist!! Like, my girl has been stuck in that House of Horrors for gods know how long, still refusing to give into his charms and his sweetly worded promises of power (unlike Korilla, who gladly abuses her sister for Raphael). And Hope helps you because for once, she finally sees a way out. The personal notes kept by Raphael on Hope's torment that you can find throughout the house are difficult to read: he tried to break her in the most insidious of ways. He was physically, emotionally, and mentally abusive to her, purely for his pleasure. Purely for the reason that he finds it amusing that he can literally torment Hope in hell.

I get that we don't have to morally approve of every character we like! For comparison on liking "bad" characters, say what you want about Astarion -- He's not a great guy! He's done some pretty bad shit! BUT he was FORCED to do all of those things by Cazador. (Also, kindly fuck the Cazador apologists, seriously.) Astarion's jaded selfishness is not who he really is, which is slowly revealed when you show respect for his personal autonomy and literally the smallest amount of kindness, whether or not you romance him. Raphael, on the other hand, wants to hurt people because it feeds into his "Daddy Mephistopheles didn't give me enough attention" superiority complex -- and tbh, that's just fucking pathetic.

The REAL OG who you all should be praising is Hope.

She has been tormented for centuries. She has been victimized by her own flesh and blood for her abuser. She has been shattered and ground down into her smallest pieces until there's almost nothing left… and yet, she hopes. She hopes for freedom. She hopes that her sister will return to being the person she so fondly remembers from her childhood. She hopes she can trust you, in spite of everything she's been through. Not to mention, when you do free her, Hope is literally one of the most badass companions you can have to help you win that fight! (For all these reasons and more, she reminds me a bit of my other fav girl Karlach.)

The reason Raphael delights in torturing Hope is because hope is a dangerous thing to have when all seems lost -- and that's the entire fucking point. This scared shitless little man sought to bend Hope to his will because her persistence/resistance threatened him, and by the gods, she is my favorite NPC because of that.

As someone who has been abused, by other people, by insidious ideologies, I can never ever, ever side with someone who so clearly mimics the very things that tried to break me and kill what remained of my hope. I see myself in Hope. Her indecision, her fear, as she dares to believe freedom is a possibility. The way her dialogue is delivered (much kudos to her voice actor) directly mimics that same scared voice in my head that second guesses myself, that worries I am not enough, that my abusers were right, that I wasn't ever deserving of happiness or being alive -- and then that same scared voice cuts through it all and screams to survive out of spite, to live happily as the best form of revenge.

Again, I get that we don't have to morally approve of every character we like! I totally understand it -- but I also want you all to expend some critical thinking as to perhaps WHY so many people are fawning over a man who is so clearly is a thinly veiled piece of shit over a woman who dared to challenge him, suffered for it, and emerged victorious.

Hope is fucking amazing. She is a gods-damned survivor. She is fury and vengeance and sorrow and joy all at once. She stays in hell to help the other souls tormented and abused by Raphael. She asks that you visit her some time. She strives to create a home of out the house that was her prison… and truly, I hope every day to be more like her.

[blackjackkent]

OK, now that we've got that sorted out, back into the Moonrise prisons!

It's a step up from the last Absolutist prison they saw, only in that it is larger. The place is crumbling, full of debris and half-rotted scaffolding. Several bored-looking guards pace the perimeter. Rakha, keeping her expression carefully unreadable, scouts the cells to see what prisoners are being held.

The answer is... not many.

Because Rolan and his siblings left the grove, they are not here. The only two tieflings being held are Lakrissa and Danis. Rakha does recognize both of them. No sign of Mol or Zevlor, which are the only two other tieflings she has had confirmation were still alive at any point.

(I was about to say that at least this means Lakrissa is still alive for Alfira and then I remembered. Whoops. :( )

Further down in another cage, she finds a collection of three deep gnomes.

None of them are familiar to her, but it's a reasonable guess that they are Barcus's friends. One of them seems to have authority over the other two; likely that is the Wulbren of whom Barcus speaks with such respect.

She tries to speak to the tieflings first, since they're familiar faces - and Lakrissa immediately draws the wrong conclusion about the situation.

"Oh no. The cult got inside your head too?"

Rakha starts to try to explain the situation, but doesn't really have a chance before they're interrupted by a nearby guard.

Narrator: Your conversation has been cut short. These prisoners are for Disciple Balthazar's attention only.

The name Balthazar is new, but Rakha ignores it for now and manages to land a Persuasion check to convince the guard to let her talk to the prisoners without it being a problem. This doesn't really do anything to assuage Lakrissa's concerns though, so when Rakha tries to talk to her again, she won't respond. All she'll say is, "The gnomes! Talk to the gnomes!"

So Rakha goes to talk to the gnomes. Wulbren, unsurprisingly, is even more skeptical:

"You ordered that guard about as if you were the Absolute herself. What do you want with us, exactly?"

"I'm here to help you escape," Rakha says matter-of-factly, low enough so no passing guards will overhear.

"Huh," Wulbren says, quirking an eyebrow. "And why would you be so inclined?"

"Barcus told me you were here, and asked me to help," Rakha answers promptly.

Wulbren's head draws back and he looks mildly surprised. "Barcus is out here?" he murmurs thoughtfully. "Didn't think he had the stones."

He leans in, resting himself on his palms against the bars, and studies Rakha from head to foot. "If he sent you, you're no slave to the Absolute." His lip curls with sudden cool amusement. "You're a damn wolf among sheep, aren't you?"

He pushes off the bars again sharply back onto his heels. "I reckon you and I were meant to meet. I'm Wulbren."

Rakha nods curtly. "Let's talk escape plan. What do you need?"

Wulbren's smirk widens. "Efficient. Good. We need tools. That headcase of a Warden robbed ours, but anything that breaks rock will do, even if it's not Ironhand quality. Whatever you find, throw it through the bars. But for the love of Gaerdal, make sure a guard doesn't see you, or we're both done for."

Rakha considers. She has several valid bludgeoning instruments on hand - but they are her own staves and a hammer Lae'zel occasionally uses when the occasion requires, and she doesn't particularly want to sacrifice any of them to Wulbren's escape attempt if it can be helped. But the guards certainly have weapons, and there is what appears to be an office or storeroom at the center of the prison which might have more.

Time to take a look around.

[rosemariad]

Supernatural Season 12

only 3 more seasons after this...aw...

so mom's back grk mm the dead...okay...Mary's returned from '83 - boy is she in for a shock. her baby boy Dean is a grown man pushing 40 😱

wild how Dean recounted his parents' love story from their first meeting to their elopement! how did Dean get John to spill the beans on that I wonder...

Sam was taken by the bitch ass Men of Letters, and here lies the beginning of the misfortune that is the MoL arc, ugh! I'm going to like this as Much as I did Metatron 🙄

Sam's a fucking trooper, I know he was tortured by the devil personally but still, taking a blow torch to the foot...damn

Mary is naturally feeling out of place and Dean's just dancing around that like it's a problem to be solved on its own...oh Dean.

Castiel reunites with Dean after Mary points a gun at the handsome angelic stranger in the bunker 😆

Dean's tender smile when Cas grabbed him🥺 the way Mary cocked her head when they hugged 🤣

Mary was down to hunt - interesting considering how hard she supposedly tried to avoid it. now the show insinuates she wasn't wholly retired????

Sam & Mary hug when he returns to the bunker - is this technically their first real hug????? the last time would've been when Sam was a literal baby 🥺

But after 3 episodes, Mary just bails? really? the showrunners are giving her the Cas treatment - where she appears every so often. Why is she back then if she's not gonna stay with her sons? they're literally all she had left in the world. everyone else she would've known is long gone. they could've just brought back John (which I now they do in season 14 for 1 episode) to get John's reaction on how his sons have changed since 2006 when he died. they could've discussed Adam - that would've been fun 🤣🤣🤣

if they're gonna keep Mary around, the one whose death started the Brothers on their journey, keep her around! have the boys & their mom struggle to reconnect, get to know one another - let Mary see her sons as they are for better or worse and let them talk about it! let them talk about her and John and their parents' marriage, the good the bad and the family of if all. let them talk out their issues or try to Even if they fail! just cuz they talk doesn't mean they're able to solve and heal their trauma in 1 sitting. that shit takes time. it could take months, years. wasted opportunity.

back to Mary hunting, back in 1980 she saved a boy who grew up to be a hunter on his own, living his best life, being more Dean than Dean Winchester 🤣 until he was killed by his fellow hunter friend by accident (wow).

how dare Asa's mom bitch at Mary for Asa's grown ass man decisions? Please. nobody put a gun to his head! he made his choice and kept at it.

Dean got snippy at his mom cuz she left his ass - Dean she's been dead for 30+ years. her resurrection was your wildest dream/hope, Amara knew that, that's why she brought her back and the 1st thing she do that you don't like and you bitch at her?! ask her to stay then! beg her to stay, say anything and everything you need to so she sticks around! tell her about your drinking, about bow you're almost 40 with no kids or a domestic partner! about how little you Sleep and all the things that haunt you! Give her a reason to be needed!

when Mary says I am your mother, but I am not just your mom - that's 💯 percent facts right there, sorry folks! people are more than just 1 thing, but on the other hand, your sons need you, Mary! ironically, if she remained at her sons side, she wouldn't have suffered the way she does later this season 🤕

it's sad how east the MoL got to her, wearing her down. she's haunted and fucked up from being dead so long. this is why dialogue is important! she seemed to be opening up to Castiel since hers an angel instead of her sons - so be it, talk to the angel man, bare your soul, anything other than making shady deals and getting into bed with those British motherfuckers (see what I did there 🤣😅)

Gavin (imma call him Crowley jr.) got iced, sucks for Crowley I guess. good for Gavin though, stepping up to do the right thing for his girl, bittersweet.

I love that Cas & Dean are in regular contact with each other! too bad we don't get more scenes of their conversations!!! cmon showrunners - don't fear the emotional man on man scenes between men who aren't family, embrace the potential gayness!!! explore it!!!!

Cas & Mandy the waitress - interesting - too bad he's only interested in Dean, at least not anymore - that may be April the reaper's fault!

"devastatingly handsome" - you not low Dean!!! this is how you choose to address your angel bestie?!?! okay 🤣

later after Cas narrowly avoids death (again, thanks Crowley!) the look of relief on Dean's face

and awwww Cas said I love you! to Dean's whole family, how romantic 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 you not low Castiel!!!!

sadly now Dean truly believes that Castiel only loves him as a friend. This is why you don't call Castiel your brother Dean 🤦‍♀️😅🤣

The Alpha vamp died - so much for next season. considering his supposed age and power, shouldn't be impossibly fast? and Ramiel. you're telling me that he struggled fighting a couple of normal people when he pwned Crowley so easily when Crowley himself is a centuries old demon, aka king of hell, after beating Castiel an ancient celestial being?!?!??! but the very mortal Winchesters took him down...yeah sure okay 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

HOLD UP! HOLD THE PHONE! HOLD THE UNIVERSE, TIME AND SPACE, HOLD EVERYTHING!

Dean Winchester gave Castiel a mixtape

Dean GAVE CASTIEL A MIXTAPE!!!!

a mixtape? 😱😱😱 really?!?!?! that's one of THE romantic gestures to make in the 80s and 90s (before CDs came out) to declare your feelings for someone you wanted to be with, as more than a friend. that's not to say friends and family didn't but it was fairly recognized as a something to do for romance too! also it's a labor of love since you'd have to use the radio or get more cassettes to record & compile the music you wanted AND people like to record a personal message before the music starts in the tape they male. you can see it certain TV/movies like the Goldbergs as an example - Adam made such a thing for his school crush when he wanted to declare his feelings for her.

And it's not just that Dean made a mixtape for Cas - he specifically chose Led Zeppelin songs- the love language of his parents, the very union that led to Dean being born in the first place. And the little xx's - hmm wonder what those mean...

and we just gloss over that?!?!? the showrunners - y'all are NOT slick! ya can't stop the Destiel bandwagon cuz after all this times in the year of our Lord 2023 peeps keep shipping it precisely for moments like these.

while we're on 12x19 - when Cas FINALLY returns to the bunker, Dean gives him hell like only a bitchy girlfriend can while Sam was like OMG glad you're back but Dean was PISSED cuz how DARE Cas not just show up & return his phone calls (what about prayers? 👀) Dean kept saying "we" but let's be honest he's talking about himself - u not slick Dean. And this is AFTER Cas tried returning the mixtape cuz he feels he is no longer worthy of Dean's gift given how much he pissed Dean off 🥺

When Sam suggests siphoning out the grace from the nephilim due to be born Dean runs to his precious angel only to discover Cas is gone (again!) just as soon as he appeared.

The betrayal. the deceit, the DRAMA!!! Dean, you didn't put the Colt in the safe?! Rookie mistake, bro.

He kept talking about Castiels feathered ass but then didn't actually fight him, just slams him against the wall, standing very close & maintaining intense eye contact - classic Supernatural 😉 🤣 😀

I wonder what Kelly saw that makes her believe that her child is good because suicide isn't an easy choice but Kelly went through with her attempt out of fear of what her child was capable of given how many times everyone kept saying such things to her face. But it didn't matter cuz her child brought Kelly back from the dead anyway. That's terrifying TBH.

When Cas booked the brothers 🤣🤣🤣 did they really not see that coming? cmon Dean, he did that to Bobby when you first met.

***during Lucifer's mini arc this season I'm reminded of Misha's commentary on the acting advice he got from main devil actor Mark Pelligrino on portraying the infamous figure - he either wanted to kill/fuck the one he's talking to - it definitely seemed that way this season during Mark's scenes. ironic considering his previous work on Lost - anyone remember that show?

Thankfully the MoL are FINALLY dealt with after a rousing speech from Sam fucking Winchester who leads the charge to take those British tarts down, complete with exploding their makeshift headquarters! Dean meanwhile stayed behind to help his mom who's been completely brainwashed by the MoL - which is indicative of Dean's characters as a callback to season 1 - he just wanted his family together!

What Dean told his mom in her head is what he should've said from the very beginning- sure it would've hurt her feelings, possibly cause a mild heart attack but it needed to be said so Dean & Mary could heal as a family!

Thank God Ketch is as dead as the rest of the MoL he was such a creep!

Rowena got killed offscreen? Damn, that's cold. I know she's coming back though 😊

Kelly died 🥲

Crowley died - he was THAT determined to take the devil down. in the long run its not gonna work since Luci will be back eventually but there's something to be said about Crowley's arc considering this is the last we see of the cheeky little devil. I recall prior seasons where he seemed downtrodden in certain scenes, about the futility of his plays for power, his schemes going tits up often because of someone else. I think Mark Shepard said something about taking his character as far as he could or something like that.

Castiel died (again)

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Mary disappeared into that AU with the devil and he is Piiiiiiiiiiiissssed 😱

Given what Kelly gave birth to, all those diapers Cas got were a waste of money...

season highlights

not many TBH I didn't like this season much cuz of the wasted potential with Mary and the brothers and the lack of Castiel. and Crowley for that matter. the season had a good start and it finished in a way that was interesting BUT

12x10 - Dean and Castiel fighting was HILARIOUS. They seriously should've gotten a spinoff even if they only ever remained as innocent platonic friends. it would've been so funny.

and awww...Dean is Castiel's human weaknesss - YEAH NO SHIT HONEY!!!!!

Dean is apparently a natural at riding - mechanical bulls included - did he ride it to completion??? lemme stop 🤣 I mean for the duration of the bull ride for however long - he never fell off? if so, kudos to him and his hips 🤣🤣

[tieflingtareon]

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 13 | Words: 2.6k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

That devil is getting into his head, while others get into Tar'eons. He doesn't appreciate not having the upperhand after years of being at the disadvantage. He will find a way to make him see.

He is the one he should be listening to. Astarion would make it so, no matter the means.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

Tar'eon came back dripping in blood. Astarion couldn't even tell if it was the enemies or his own.

He didn't speak to him when he entered the room, Astarion looking up at him with his book in his lap. He had removed his armour eventually, down to his bed clothes. The cloak was hung on the edge of the mirror, draped across half of it.

The air was ripe with tension, and Astarion itched to ask how it went. Where the blood came from. Yet he didn't dare to break the silence yet as Tar'eon stripped from his armour, tossing it aside, pulling his undershirt off over his head to reveal a thick gash across his hip. It was the only place his armour didn't cover. Someone got lucky against the bard, but the man wasn't even giving attention to his sluggishly bleeding wound.

"...A waste of good blood, if you're going to just let it spill onto the floor, darling."

"Shut up." It's hissed, sharp and acidic, and Astarion's eyes widened, his proverbial heart in his throat. His stomach went cold, body still as stone as he waited for Tar'eon to speak again, to move. To do anything other than stand in the middle of the room, back to him as he breathed in increasingly ragged breaths. Astarion gripped the dagger at his hip for his own sanity, and if he were human, he was sure he would have broken into a cold sweat on instinct.

It was a long time before Tar'eon finally spoke again, sitting heavily on his bed and burying his face in his hands.

"She wasn't there." He whispered, voice hoarse. "Mol wasn't there. I couldn't - I couldn't find her. I haven't even told Arabella that her parents are..."

Astarion's shoulders slowly sagged, gazing upon the man who looked ready to crack and burst. He sighed softly and closed his book, hesitating for a moment before he slunk over to his bed, quiet as a mouse as he took a seat on the opposite side. He placed a hand on the mans back, smoothing it over his sweat-slicked skin. It should have been gross, but he was more focused on staving off the mans tears.

"...That girl. You know who she reminds me of?" Tar'eon took a moment to swallow before he responded.

"Who?"

"She reminds me of you. Unfortunately, she also has all my faults." Astarion mused bitterly, his chin resting on his shoulder, closing his eyes as he soaked in the warmth radiating off him. "That girl will survive, wherever she is. Knowing her, she's already escaped all by herself and run off to pick pockets in Baldur's Gate."

"Careful. You'll get my hopes up." His words held no humour, and Astarion supposed he deserved that. He sighed, pulling away.

"Lay down. We need to staunch the bleeding before you bleed out. It really would be a waste."

"You only care because you'd lose an easy meal." Tar'eon muttered, but laid back regardless with a groan, the pants soaked in blood, a mix of his own and others. Astarion chuckled bleakly.

"That would be one reason to care, yes." Astarion moved towards the bathroom and brought back the first aid kit. He snagged a potion from his pack and opened it up, offering it to the tiefling, a hand under his chin so he wouldn't choke. He wiped away a streak that escaped his lips and presented it back to the man. It was too small of a dose to effect it, by why waste it? Watching Tar'eon kiss it from his thumb, watching him lick his lips...

It should have felt sexual. Sensual at the very least. But Astarion was struck by how tender it was instead. He looked away from the tieflings lips and focused on his wound. The potion wouldn't heal it all, but it would help enough to avoid a painful round of stitches neither of them wanted to do.

He took the bottle of disinfectant and poured some onto a gauze, wiping away the mess of blood around the wound and then pressing it to the gash itself, Tar'eon giving a hiss as his abdomen flexed at the sudden, sharp pain.

"Don't be a baby." Astarion tutted. "You can be burned alive, and near disembowelled, and yet you moan over a little sting?"

"I wasn't disembowelled." Tar'eon grunted.

"Oh? Then what's that?"

"What-" Tar'eon sat up quick and groaned loudly, laying back as Astarion chuckled. "You're such an asshole."

"Your fault for believing otherwise." Astarion smiled as he continued his work, staunching the blood and pulling out a fresh gauze to tape over the wound.

"...Why're you the way that you are?"

"Charming? Alluring? Decadent?" Astarion purred, deflecting from what he could tell was going to be a feelings talk. He wasn't quite sure what he'd say if Tar'eon put him on the spot. Feelings were not his forte.

"How can you spout awful things one moment, and then be so...sweet the next?" Astarion quirked a brow. Tar'eon thought he was sweet? His standards were on the floor.

"When you're forever beautiful, what's the point in being nice? People will want you anyway." Astarion flexed his jaw despite his cadence, patting the gauze once it was on. Tar'eon groaned, sending him a mild glare before he sat up, taking a deep breath and letting it out, glancing at the vampire from the corner of his eyes.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but disregarded it at the last moment, standing with a sigh.

"I'm going to wash up for dinner and...tell Arabella what happened to her parents. She deserves to know." Astarion watched as he made his way towards the bathroom, sighing softly as he ran a hand through his hair. He'd regret this.

"I'll tell her. Go see Shadowheart once you've bathed. And for Gods sake, wash your armour while you're at it. You smell like a century old cellar."

Astarion stood and made for the door, when he heard Tar'eon clear his throat. He tilted his head and glanced at the man who was leaning against the bathroom door, smiling softly at him.

"Thank you...Can we agree to forget about today? I don't want to be angry with you. Not tonight."

"Please. You couldn't hold a grudge to save your life, and we both know it. You have too much forgiveness in your heart for that." Astarion tutted and spared Tar'eon a small smile. "Though...I'm not sure I want you to be angry with me either. So, I'll gladly let it be forgotten."

"Anything else you want to say?" Tar'eons eyes glimmered with mirth despite his weary face, wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. Crows feet. Astarion wondered if he had those as well.

"...I'm sorry." It was haughtily said, yet slowly pronounced. Sincerity mixed with a faux insincerity, ever the double sided blade he was. "Happy?"

"Very." Tar'eon smiled wider, turning away with a sway of his tail, the door shutting behind him. Astarion sighed as he stared at that door, turning back to his own and taking his exit from the room. He may as well get it over and down with.

It wasn't hard to find Arabella, who looked confused beside Withers outside the Inn, not far from the stables.

"I am not a skeleton. I am neither dead, nor undead. Neither alive, nor unliving."

"I don't get it."

"Thou wilt." Astarion rolled his eyes at Withers vague manner of speaking and approached, Arabella taking notice at the same time Withers did.

"Hey, you - you're Tar'eons friend! The pale elf."

"Yes, well, that's one way to identify me. My name is Astarion." He felt it only polite to introduce himself if he was about to break her poor, fragile, tiny heart. Gods, why did he offer to do this again?

"Right. I'm Arabella; although I'm sure you've gathered that." She laughed, but it trailed off, the girl growing nervous. Like she could sense what he was about to say. "Did you...did you guys find mum and pops?"

Astarion grimaced.

"Well...yes. We...found their corpses." Her face fell apart and it felt almost like a stake going through his chest. No wonder Tar'eon had been so apprehensive about having his conversation himself.

"No. No, no, no - I don't believe you." Her sweet voice cracked, tears in his amber eyes. Astarion pursed his lips.

"I...I'm sorry, for what it's worth. But not believing me does not make the truth go away. They're gone."

"It isn't true. It isn't!" Her eyes spilt over and she turned away from him. "Get away from me. Go!" She held her face in her hands and thought she seemed to try and stifle her sobs, her weeping was obvious.

Astarion flexed his jaw, wishing for some way to comfort the distraught girl, but nothing came to mind. He looked at Withers who gave him an unreadable stare like he always do. It unsettled him. It was like he was reading his mind, staring into his very soul. He avoided him for exactly that reason.

He hesitated before turning and walking away. Hopefully tomorrow Tar'eon would be able to talk her down. He was much better at that then him.

****

It was hard to perceive night from day in the Shadow Lands, but Jaheira kept a clock on the wall of every room. When it seemed appropriate to do so, Astarion took to his meditation, happy to end the day. He'd made it through most of the book so far, but he'd admit, getting the mild hiss in every word right was hard without seeming angry. Half the words he'd tried to memorise had escaped him, but the alphabet was ingrained in his brain now, and he was having fun trying to put words together in his mind while he dipped into his trance.

However, meditation was easy to fall out of when preoccupied before rest. Maybe that was why he woke when Tar'eon slipped out of the room, rather quiet for such a large fellow. He frowned, rubbing his eye. He was tempted to follow, nosy as he was, but perhaps he was just going for a leak.

Astarion cracked his neck and slipped out of bed, making his way over to Tar'eons pack to get his greedy hands back on the book. He'd rested an hour or two at the least, so he'd read for a couple more and then mediate another two to get back to full strength. He wedged himself into the window sill like a cat trying to make themselves fit into a box, cracking open the book and using the dim light outside from the globe to illuminate his page. He had darkvision, sure, but he enjoy reading by light. It was about the little things in life sometimes. The atmosphere of it all.

Along with the light of the globe, he noticed the fire below still burning despite the late hour, and glanced down to take a look at the flames. A shadow-y figure was doing a little trot beside it while everyone slept, and Astarion almost laughed. Ridiculous. What was Wyll doing at such an hour?

He opened the window, ready to call the man out, and hopefully scare the crap out of him all at once, when he noticed another shadow.

Tar'eon. Astarion quirked a brow, losing his shit eating grin as he watched them from above. Tar'eon was watching the man prance before Wyll caught him, a stumble in his stance before he stilled. Astarion scowled. He wished he could hear them, but they were just out of his range, their words barely a mumble to his ears.

Wyll extended a hand to him, and Tar'eon bowed with flourish in return, his face illuminated by the fire light as he took his hand. Were they- were they dancing together? He hadn't thought Tar'eon the kind of man to dance, but he was a bard. Song and dance went hand in hand. Astarion could remember dancing quite a bit at Cazador's balls, drawing people into rooms for 'privacy' and watching his master overindulge in multiple young men and women. He could count on his fingers the amount of balls he had attended since being turned. They were a special affair, but one of the few nights Astarion almost enjoyed.

Astarion watched with an unimpressed gaze as Wyll led him further from the fire, just a few paces, letting his hand go and...peacocking himself, apparently. He heard the faintest laugh, and assumed it was from Tar'eon. It held his low tenor.

When Wyll stopped, obviously looking to Tar'eon to continue their little dance, Tar'eon impersonated his little kicks from before, only stopping after a few to laugh louder, the rosiness of his cheeks only brighter in the firelight. Wyll looked just as amuse, clapping for the man. Tar'eon gave another bow, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he was indulging Wyll in this way.

Astarion rolled his eyes. Something in his gut squirmed, not liking this scene one bit. He knew Wyll and Tar'eon were growing closer, but he hadn't thought Wyll to have the gall to actually try and woo the tiefling. And this was a wooing if he'd ever seen one, the ex-noble man using his talent of dance to draw them closer.

It was working, too. Astarion gritted his teeth, a fang threatening to pierce his bottom lip as the pair danced, walking circles around each other, palm against palm, eyes locked.

He sucked his cheeks in and bit down hard, his hands wrapped tight around the hard cover of the book as the pair knelt, hands still touching. It felt like an eternity, waiting for it to happen. He knew it would. He knew it would always come to this.

Tar'eon was a man who deserved stability, romance, the thing of fairy tales. All the pretty embellishments Wyll added to his stories.

Astarion had been a distraction. He knew that. He had presented himself on a platter, let the man taste, and tasted him in return, and now, it was coming to an end. The clock was ticking towards midnight, and all the magic was fading away. He always knew it would. He had just been waiting for Tar'eon to say the words. He was too good to abandon Astarion to the wolves, he likely would have protected him regardless, but...Astarion had liked being the favourite.

He had liked Tar'eons attention. His gentle nature, his sweet words, his gifts - Hells, he'd even grown fond of the disgusting big heart he had, the one that stretched from his chest to his finger tips, consuming all the space in his body where his other organs should be. When did Astarion start hoping to crawl inside his chest and stay there?

Hope brought madness to men. And he was mad to even consider the chance that big heart may be given to him. He wouldn't even know what to do with it.

Astarion watched the pair kissed, only able to stand a glance before he tore away from the window, shutting it tight and throwing the book back to its spot, moving back to his bed. He pulled the blanket over his head and curled the pillow to his chest, trying to crush the ache so he wouldn't have to feel it.

He knew there was no 'more' for him. He wasn't capable of it. He knew nothing of real love, nothing past crude lust. He could not remember a single memory where something or someone genuinely loved him. Targets hadn't counted. They had lusted for him, true, but they never loved him.

Who was he to expect such a thing from the tiefling, who could have anyone? If he had to pick anyone, he certainly wouldn't pick himself either.

When he heard the door open, he pretended to be resting.

"...Astar?"

He didn't respond. And Tar'eon didn't call for him again.

[trevisos]

love when you rb ask games bc im desperate to know everything about your little guys. 2 & 14 for both xarrai and ieriyn

ur in luck bc i looove rambling about my little guys :) ty for the ask!!!! 💖💖💖💖💖

2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

xarrai:

see the thing is by design xarrai looks like Just Another Bard, esp if we're talking about like pre-game when they're just living their life in baldur's gate. sure they’re like, a 6'7" (if we count the horns n everything) purple tiefling who's covered in tattoos but the gate is a big city and that's not really all that unusual. there are plenty of things one wouldn't expect just from looking at xarrai but that's kind of their whole thing. sooooo here is a kind of silly and fun example i haven't talked much about: they have such a soft spot for tiefling kids. they're immediately smitten with the kids in the grove and half the reason they actually end up helping the tieflings out is because they don't want anything to happen to them. they nearly start shit with kagha over the whole thing with arabella and are just barely talked down by gale (much to astarion's disappointment lol.) mol and mattis remind them so much of themself (or at least of the child they could have been) and i do think xar keeps an eye on mol in the guild post-game, or at least whenever they're in baldur's gate. they would never ever want to be a parent (and would make a frankly abysmal one at that. like can u imagine them and astarion trying to raise a child? the thing would need therapy before it could talk.) but they are fond of the little shits. they're fond of yenna too (they were also an outer city street kid once after all) but the tiefling kids just Get Them.

ieriyn:

honestly i think ieriyn is kind of an open book, at least early/pre-game. you can pretty easily predict like. most things about this kid in one look. BUT i do think once someone gets to know him they find that despite being sheltered and naïve he really does have a strong sense of right and wrong and a soft heart. he's just like. spoiled and stupid about it. he also has a dry sense of humor that takes a minute to really notice.

and here's a silly one too: i think he's really into houseplants. he's a houseplant girlie. his room at home is full of lush tropical plants and he loves taking care of them :) (as long as he can wash his hands immediately after touching the dirt. he hates dirt. he has autistic tboy swag for real.)

14. How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

xarrai:

hmm okay so this is... it depends i think on who we're talking about. xarrai is constantly trying to show other people exactly who or what they want to see - patriars see a pretty whore, tavern patrons see a flamboyant bard, the guild sees a talented information broker, the list goes on. for the first section of the game, every member of the party sees someone different in them too because they're trying to secure their control over the situation and others are more likely to listen to them if they think xarrai is trustworthy. it doesn't take long before the party starts to notice that their views of xarrai don't line up tho tbh; it's hard to maintain like six different personas, even if the differences are only slight. (this does cause some trust issues, especially with lae'zel who already did not get along super well with xar lol.) generally though the kind of Core Vibe they're trying to put off is someone carefree and unassuming. they don't want to give anyone too much insight into what they're thinking or feeling, and they would much rather be underestimated than properly appraised. they sort of try to hide their "real" skills behind their more "showy" ones - if someone is praising them for being a great storyteller they're likely not paying attention to the way that story is being spun, and if someone is busy thinking about how good xarrai is at giving head they probably don't notice that they've stolen half the gold from their purse lol

ieriyn:

ieriyn desperately wants people to see him as Worthy. of what he's not entirely sure honestly - love? praise? care? power? he's trying really hard to seem competent and in control but he's largely just scared and lost and alone. like. he's terrified of his magic because it's unpredictable and hard to control but he wants people to think he's good at it, and tbf, he does have raw talent he absolutely is a Magical Gifted Kid (again. autistic tboy swag), he's just being held back by his own fear. he just wants people to see him as special and worthy of the greatness he tries to pretend he deserves. if that makes sense. idk i am still working on getting a really good solid grasp of ieriyn tbqh

[mlobsters]

supernatural s12e5 the one you've been waiting for (w. meredith glynn)

thule society nazis in the recap, oh boy. my fave. remember nothing of this episode (8x13 apparently). though i do remember neck stabbing a nazi to non je ne regrette rien (but i think that was a different nazi stabbing episode??? 11x14). ps totally thought rien was laugh because ríen in spanish is "they laugh". sometimes similar words between french and spanish are the same! sometimes not :P i don't regret anything not quite the vibe of i don't regret laughing lol

DEAN I'm gonna stop you right there, okay? Look, Mom needed her space, and I told you I'm cool with it. SAM But are you really?

so here for sam continuing to poke dean about this. dean should retaliate by making sam deal with something

SAM Uh, rich people like antiquing. I don't know. DEAN I say we check it out. SAM Uh… (Sighs) All right. In the meantime, you sure you don't wanna talk about – DEAN No. SAM Dean, it's called sublimation. DEAN Yeah. Yeah, it's kinda my thing.

i had to look it up because i was thinking of the science thing but psychologytoday.com says:

Why is sublimation a mature defense? Sublimation is considered a successful defense mechanism because it often leads to positive outcomes—and outcomes that are often better than the alternative. For example, let’s say a man going through a divorce emotes by destroying his ex-wife’s property or lashing out at his son. In the case of sublimation, on the other hand, the man may channel his energy into an important project at work. Even though sublimation is a more productive defense than others, it’s still healthy to fully confront and process the underlying emotions involved.

look at that, it's a mature defense mechanism! something something processing emotions too. details details

miracles of miracles they turned on the lights instead of continuing to poke around in the dark with flashlights (xfiles was very silly about that too, kind of a trope of the genre i suppose. drama!)

hi localhost loopback webmail. that is a very nice little fake email screen though. and peekaboo sam in the mirror

finally someone reacting appropriately to overhearing one of their conversations 😂

keep trying to figure out if nazi boy here just has a bad cut/style/color or it's a wig. this is why i don't remember these episodes. could not care less

send in sam to talk to the girl, they can bond over being vessels for pure evil! lol she called bullshit on sam's lucifer vessel story, very reasonable

neverending fight scene.

ok same kid and now it looks like it is his hair. maybe that was a reshoot or something?

i guess british mol villains not enough cartoon evil, bring in nazi thule whatever douchebag his dad is

haha WAIT! i know this diner LOL. i used it for my archivist painting! and in the process of doing that i was checking the outside views too. i think this is the same clip in fact, just darkened to look like night. did they forget to get an exterior shot of something? now i wonder how often they do this. only reason i recognized it was because i'd spent hours staring at pictures for that painting

s1e20 dead man's blood

s1e20 / s12e5

that is so funny. looks like they took out the searchlight from the car too. babies

sam's reaction to nazi defector boy sliding in is cracking me up. kid's hair back to looking strange. maybe it's the color? it just doesn't look right on his head

mentioning again how great his hair is looking this season! what a turnaround. clearly should tag for me rambling about his hair, like the sideburns. looking at the search for hair on my posts, i talk about everyone's hair. a lot lol (best hair, claire by a mile. ugh. so gorgeous). sigh, back to nazis

i had some weird light golden brown hair for a minute when i was using an old box of dye and i was sick of fighting the white hair. kind of looks like that. also, what were they eating? chocolate pie? cheesecake? cake? stallllling

EXCUSE ME WHAT. wheezing

the matrix (1999) / the magicians s1e4 the world within the walls

reminds me of a cross between the matrix bug and the little gold scorpion thingamajig in the magicians. but way goofier

oki doke

kinda feels like this whole episode was an excuse to get sam to say this. and for the mood pick-me-up of getting to kill hitler for dean

DEAN You know, I was thinkin'… we passed a bakery on the way into town. Sign said, “Best pie for a thousand miles”. SAM So now you want pie? DEAN I killed Hitler. I think I deserve some pie. Did I mention I killed Hitler? SAM I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I? DEAN Probably not.

very cute

[tomjamesavery]

What is your favourite line from The First Time Around?

I have so many but lets take these three, two of them are between Peter and James (Peters banter is actually amazing lol)

The first one was after one of James´ miserable attempts at wooing Lily:

James: ”I am growing on her(Lily)” and Peter replying with: “Like a fungus!”

Then second the Marauders seeing Harry for the first time after birth:

Peter leaned in smiling. “He’s got James black hair disaster.”

“You don’t know that it’s going to be a disaster, Pete,” James said defensively, looking at his sons mop of unruly hair

Peter only smirked. “I think we do Prongs”

And for last when Remus and Sirius had to watch Harry for the first time and Lily returned after they created chaos:

Lily smiled. “And who was the genius who put his nappy on backwards?”

Remus and Sirius each pointed at each other and Lily laughed.

2. What is your favourite line from A Second Chance?

I have so many! But the first line which really made me fall in love with the Story though was Harry visiting the Burrow for the first time with Sirius, and the way Molly greeted him:

Molly smiled sweetly at him “…And who are you darling?”

"I'm Harry," he said, extending his hand.

Molly's heart stopped. "What impeccable manners! I'll have to get you to teach my heathens, Harry,"…

This one as well, classic Harry being like Sirius:

Harry: “I’m fine, Uncle Moony.” Remus looked like he wanted to argue that, but he instead sat in the chair next to him. “One day, Harry, you’re going to wake up with those words tattooed across your forehead.”

One from Moody in Harrys 4th Year when discussing putting him under the Imperius for Training:

“Potter thinks it’s a good Idea,” Moody said with a smile “We spoke about it yesterday after class”

“Harry is fourteen and not always a great judge on what a good Idea is” Sirius said still staring at Moody like he’d grown a second head

And one from the Love Potion fiasco:

“It’s not a love potion!” Romilda cried. “He really loves me”

Snape only stared at her and scoffed. “I rather doubt that”

 

And one Zee quote as she was my favourite OC and I miss her:

Harry nodded. “I cant imagine being married in four years!”

Sirius chuckled. “Hell, I cant imagine being married now!”

Zee snorted. “Trouble, the lot of you.”

There are endless Hinny lines I love as well, like this one:

Harry leaned his forehead against hers, his green eyes on her warm brown ones. It was so easy to get lost in all that chocolate, he thought. Her tongue moistened her lips and his eyes dropped to her soft pink mouth. “I’m crazy about you.”

Ginny grinned, her eyes on his. “I’m crazy about you, too.” She kissed him. “But no more gifts for no reason. I don’t need them.”

Harry slid his hands slowly up her back. “But I’m super rich, remember?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Do you think I care about that? You know that I’m only with you for your arse.”

3. What is your favourite moment from The First Time Around?

The Marauders telling Remus they know he was a werewolf and totally accepting it and Remus being so surprised and then touched by their love!

And also the Marauders shipping Jily and helping James woo her haha

4. What is your favourite moment from A Second Chance?

I have too many lol! Zee holding Harry while he was possessed by Voldemort in the Ministry and being there for him after Sirius died, showing him she would never leave him and how she loved him.

Remus taking Harry to muggle London and to a library to get some “Stories” when Harry still didn’t really trust him.

Basically all Sirius Harry conversations in the whole Story

Harrys and Ginnys first Kiss at the Quidditch Field in front of the whole school!

Remus and Tonks first Kiss at the family Snowball Game on Christmas.

When Harry made a stag patronus to show his soulbond with Ginny

Those are just a few I could think of quickly, there are so many more!

5. Who is the most underrated couple in my universe?

Blaise and Theo (as platonic best friends).

Romantically, Arthur and Molly, they still were so in love after so many years! Also Colt and Flo, just because I love them and they cant be rated high enough!

6. Who is the most overrated couple in my universe?

Hmm, don’t know, I would probably say Finn and Theo as well, it was Theos first “intense”  love and Finn wasn’t who he really needed in the end. Finn was just to "passive" and I feel like he treated Theo a bit too much like he was made of porcelain(does that make sense in English lol)

7. Who is your favourite couple in the ASC universe and why?

HINNY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Because Ginny is my favourite Character and I maybe(totally) have a huge Crush on her, and Harry is just perfect for her and vice versa, this one is self-explanatory!

Hinny Love!

8. Who is the couple you like the least in the ASC universe and why?

Belladonna Brambilla and her pureblood Supremacist Italian Fashion Designer Leonardo Fanucci (they attended the Yule Ball together), because they´re evil, Death Eaters and she has this weird fixation on Dumbledore and blames her daughters and Husbands Death on him even though It was her own fault.

Let's Play A Game!

An anon sent me an ask asking me what my favourite lines and chapters and moments were from TFTA and ASC and it was hard for me to answer. As someone who wrote it, I don't remember specific lines and whatnot from my own work like I do by books I love as a fellow reader. I'm a fan of my own work but not a "fan" in the sense of me being a fellow reader.

So, how about you tell me -- here in the comments and reblog!

What is your favourite line from The First Time Around?

What is your favourite line from A Second Chance?

What is your favourite moment from The First Time Around?

What is your favourite moment from A Second Chance?

Who is the most underrated couple in my universe?

Who is the most overrated couple in my universe?

Who is your favourite couple in the ASC universe and why?

Who is the couple you like the least in the ASC universe and why?

PS -- whoever reblogs with a comment and answers, will get a special sneak peek of TTTC!

[myloversgone]

Let Me Change Your Mind

Pairing: Dean x Y/N; Dean x You; Dean x female!reader

Warnings: +18. Lots of sex. Unprotected sex (be smart, this is fiction); P in V; oral sex (male and female receiving). Dirty talk. Dean being the hottest motherfucker on Earth (this is a real warning). Pure filth. There’s barely a plot, I really should be ashamed of myself. 

Summary: Dean thinks shower sex is complicated and dangerous. Can you change his mind about it? 

This takes place during season 8, around the time the Winchesters found the MoL bunker, but it doesn’t exactly follow the show’s storyline.

A/N: This is my entry for the lovely @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone ​ Make-Me-Horny challenge. I hope I was able to accomplish that 😁 Unfortunately, tumblr is stupid and I can’t post the hot AF gif she sent me to inspire this fic, unless I wanna be flagged, so if you want to see it, just send me a message and I’ll send it to you. I did my best to describe it, though (the description is highlighted in the story). 

I wanted to post this work sooner, but life has been kicking my ass lately and, to make it worse, I’ve been sick for the last two days.🤢 So, please, if this sucks too much, you can blame my stomach bug.

I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback is highly appreciated! Thanks for reading!

"Come on, Dean, you said we could try anything."

"I know what I said, sweetheart, but shower sex is complicated."

"Well, apparently I'm gonna have to take your word for it, 'cause it doesn't seem like I'll be trying it any time soon!"

You were really pissed off. For the last 30 minutes, you've been trying to convince Dean to have sex with you in the shower. But, to your surprise, he vehemently stated he didn't want to, saying it was complicated and even dangerous.

Since your boyfriend found out how boring your sex life was before him, you both agreed you should try some different things every once in a while. Dean had already shown you so many good - and very, very naughty - things you didn't even know existed, so you thought his idea was great.

Lately, you’ve been wanting to try shower sex, and you were adamant about convincing him to do it.

"Baby, don't be mad", Dean pleaded when you got up from his lap and turned your back to him, ready to leave the small motel room where you found yourselves in while working on a case. 

"I'm not mad. Just frustrated", you explained, pouting and turning to look at him. "I've been picturing us doing it and I think it would be great". You bit your lower lip, looking up at Dean from under your lashes, knowing very well how much it drove him crazy. He couldn't deny you anything when you made that face.

"Y/N", he said your name as a warning. "We can't do it here or in any other motel we’ve ever been to. It's too dangerous, believe me. Those tiles are slippery and there's nowhere to hold, one of us will end up hurt, maybe both of us". Dean explained, walking to you and placing his hands on each side of your waist, bringing your body close to his.

"But", you tried again "we’ve already showered together more than once, and we never got hurt". You knew you were whining like a child and being a pain in the ass, but shower sex has been your most recent fantasy. You wanted it badly.

And you were telling the truth. You and Dean had showered together many times, and what sometimes started as just an innocent shower after a particularly gruesome hunt, always ended up in heavy make out sessions, but it never got to the “main attraction” because of Dean’s caution, which was part of the reason you wanted it so much. Plus, just the thought of holding onto his massive shoulders, his skin glistening with the drops of water while he thoroughly fucks you under the shower, is enough to make your lady parts clench.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. Who knows, maybe someday we’ll find a place safe enough so we don’t end up with a broken leg”, Dean winked at you, pulling you back from your daydream and kissing you, one of his hands travelling from your waist to your ass, squeezing a buttcheek. 

You kissed him back, your tongue invading his mouth to taste him. “I hope you’re right. Plus, it’s your loss, you know. Sam said he’s gonna be out for at least two hours until he can find the witness. We could use the time to have fun”, you bit his lower lip, using your tongue to soothe the bite while pressing your crotch against Dean’s body.

“You’re a naughty girl, teasing me like that”. It was his turn to kiss you, sucking on your upper lip. Holding the back of your head, he pulled you closer, owning you, making you gasp. It was his promise you wouldn’t have to wait until you could find a “safe shower” to have great sex.

 —--------------------------------------------------

Two weeks later

“I think we’ve found the Bat Cave”, said Dean while looking at the thousands of books available in the Men of Letters’ bunker library. 

None of you would’ve guessed the place would be so intact when Henry Winchester told you about the bunker. Still, it was surprisingly inhabitable. In fact, it had everything you needed.

The three of you started to look around and, as Sam and Dean opened doors, switching the lights on and getting increasingly impressed with the place, you went to the kitchen, quickly assessing the room and thinking you’ve finally found a place where you could cook a decent meal for a change.

Proceeding to explore the other rooms, you passed through the bedroom Dean chose to be yours and his and continued down the hall. Opening the last door to your left, you felt like your jaw had hit the floor.

You found yourself in a huge bathroom. It had black and white tiles covering the walls, two sinks with large mirrors right above them, a bathtub, and, the most important thing: two shower spaces with benches attached to the walls. Big benches that could definitely fit two people sitting side by side and even a person lying down comfortably. You couldn’t believe your luck.

“Dean, get your ass over here! I wanna show you something!”, you yelled from the door, practically jumping in excitement. 

You heard Dean’s footsteps quickly approaching. “What’s up, sweetheart?” He stopped beside you, voice dying and eyes widening when he realized what he was looking at.

“I guess we’ll have to test the hot water, huh? See if it lasts as long as we need it to”, you grinned, patting Dean’s chest and leaving him open mouthed.

Sadly, as the events unfolded, new hunts stopped you and Dean from enjoying the bunker, its bathroom especially.

A week later, your boyfriend finally returned from a hunt he and his brother went to. On their way home, Sam took a detour and went to help Garth, which meant you and Dean were alone, with the bunker all to yourselves.

“Hey, sweetheart”, Dean called from the top of the stairs, closing the door behind him.

“Hi, baby. How was the hunt?”, you put aside the book you were reading to go meet him in the middle of the room, standing on your tiptoes to give him a welcome kiss.

“It was ok, a simple salt and burn, but we had to dig like three graves. I need a shower ASAP. How about you join me?”, Dean offered, giving you a naughty smirk.

You felt your stomach tighten in excitement. Finally. You’ve been away from Dean for too long, you missed him already. “Sure.You can go ahead and I’ll be with you in a minute”. You kissed him again, quickly nibbling his lower lip. Dean went in the direction of the hallway while you put the books back on their shelves and proceeded to your bedroom, where you undressed completely and wrapped yourself in your boyfriend’s Dead Guy Robe. You ran your hands through your hair, tidying the strands. You knew Dean wouldn’t mind if it was a mess, but you wanted to be pretty for him. After all, you promised to change his mind about shower sex, and you intended to do just that.

As you left the bedroom and approached the bathroom door, you could hear the shower running. Your heart started to beat faster. It didn’t matter that you’ve been dating Dean for almost a year; you still got excited with the perspective of having sex with him. He always took good care of you, always put your needs first. He truly is amazing.

You opened the door to find Dean in the first shower stall. His back was turned to you and his arms were up; he was washing his hair. You closed the door and stopped for a moment to admire him. His arms were bulging with the movement he was making to spread the shampoo on his hair. Even from a distance, you could see the muscles on his back move under his flawless, freckled skin. Your gaze went down his spine, focusing on the dimples on his lower back and then on his ass. His perfect, muscled, rounded ass. It was one of those moments when you could barely believe a man as beautiful as Dean could even exist.

Already feeling your pelvic muscles clenching, you called his name, since he didn’t seem to notice your arrival. “Hey, Dean”.

He turned around to look at you. You couldn’t help but stare between his strong legs, seeing his cock semi erect, his substantial size catching your attention. Dean’s body reacted quickly to you, it always did, which was very flattering and just one more reason for you to be head over heels for him.

“Hi, baby girl. Is that my robe?”, he asked, his gaze taking in your entire body.

“Yeah, but don’t worry. I’m taking it off now”, you explained while doing just that, exposing yourself completely to him.

“Damn, you’re gorgeous”, Dean bit his lower lip, his eyes fixed on you as you approached the stall, putting a little swing on your hips just to keep your boyfriend interested.

Standing under the shower, you let the warm water cascade over you as you placed your arms around Dean’s neck and touched his body with yours. You felt your nipples harden as they touched his skin. He leaned down to kiss you sensuously, his lips parting yours as his tongue entered your mouth. Holding you close, one of his hands was supporting your lower back as the other ran up from your hip to the side of your breast, caressing the delicate skin.

Reaching between your bodies, you closed your hand around his cock. The contact was enough to make it fully erect for you, and Dean groaned, his face buried in your neck, kissing and sucking the skin. When he removed his hand from your breast and started to run it down your body, reaching the folds between your legs, you let go of him, making him stop.

"Today is about you, baby. Just sit down and relax", you told Dean while pushing him to sit on the bench attached to the shower wall.

He kept looking at you, admiring your body as he walked backwards until the back of his knees hit the bench. He sat and you kneeled in front of him, between his muscular bowed legs.

"Whatcha gonna do, huh, baby girl?", he asked, voice deep with lust.

You took him in your hand again, massaging his length up and down and watching the wide tip get redder, precum already leaking from it.

Looking at Dean from under your lashes, you leaned forward and kissed the head of his cock, making him hiss with the warm feeling of your lips. Then you hollowed your cheeks and did your best to take him inside your mouth. He was too big, so taking ⅔ of him was all you could do. His length was already down your throat, and you swallowed around him as much as you could. He moaned loudly, leaning his head against the wall behind him and reaching for your wet hair.

"Fuck Y/N, you look so good with my cock in your mouth", he praised while you sucked and bobbed your head up and down, letting him hit the back of your throat every time. You hummed, sending shocks of pleasure through his member. You grabbed his thighs to steady yourself, feeling the warmth of his skin. 

You kept sucking and ended up letting him fuck your mouth, holding your hair in a ponytail and guiding you, until he told you he couldn't take it anymore. "I wanna come in your pussy, baby girl, come here. Sit on my lap".

Giving one last wet kiss on the slit of his beautiful cock, you gladly got up. Your knees were starting to hurt.

Grabbing his thick length covered with your spit, you positioned it in your entrance, spreading your legs to take him easier. You were very wet, not only from the water, but because sucking Dean's dick turned you on every time. Rubbing the head on your folds, you took him inside you, lowering yourself on his cock, feeling every delicious inch penetrating you.

"Oh, God, Dean", you whined when you finally took all of him, his pubic hair tickling you. Dean looked down to where you were joined, finding it hot to watch his cock being completely swallowed by your pussy.

You started lifting your hips, bouncing up and down on his lap, the back of your thighs hitting the front of his with a slapping sound increased by the water pouring over both of your bodies. You held onto the nape of his neck, your mouth forming an O with how deep he was hitting you. 

Placing both palms into each side of his body for leverage, Dean started to lift his hips from the bench, meeting you halfway. The movement enhanced the muscles of his arms, his biceps bulging. He couldn't take his eyes off of your face, entranced by the absolute pleasure on your features. You weren't able to form words, knowing soon you would be tired of bouncing like that, but enjoying it immensely. It didn't bother you to be making most of the effort this time; Dean was always the one to do everything his powerful body allowed him to bring you pleasure. Now, it was your turn.

"Is that good, baby?", you asked him, panting. 

"God, yes. You're perfect, Y/N", he grinned, tilting his head up to kiss you. His warm tongue slipped inside your open mouth, tasting you and deepening the kiss. You moaned with the feeling and Dean gave a particularly hard thrust, hitting just the right place.

"F-fuck, Dean", you lost your rhythm, feeling your legs getting tired with the up and down movement, so you fully sat on his lap, stopping for a while.

With Dean buried inside you to the root, you started grinding on his lap without moving up, just using your hips and the muscles on your lower belly to squeeze him, keeping him as deep as you could.

“Jesus, fuck, Y/N, you feel amazing around me”. Dean had to close his eyes; he was afraid he was gonna come before you if he kept looking at your beautiful body, at the movements of your hips, your tits bouncing as you rode him. “Keep riding me, sweetheart. I love when you do that”, he pleaded, gritting his teeth to keep control.

“You’re so deep inside me, Dean. I’m gonna come with you there, ok, honey? You’re just in the right place”. You knew Dean loved when you were vocal during sex, being it dirty talk or not. He was always amazing, knowing exactly where to touch you and sometimes knowing your body better than yourself, so you didn’t have to guide him through what made you feel good. Still, since you started dating, he freed you of your inhibitions, encouraging you to be as loud and talkative as you wanted.

“Yeah, come for me, baby. Come on my cock, c’mon”. He pulled you closer, kissing and biting your shoulder, which was enough to turn you into mush. You came hard, the pleasure scattering through your body as a fire while you moaned and called Dean’s name like a pornstar. Except you weren’t faking it.

The noises you were making and the sight of your body shaking in pleasure did it for Dean. He came too, hot and hard, throbbing inside you as you felt him filling you with his seed. Breathing hard, you two remained enlaced, your legs and arms wrapped around Dean’s body as you kissed, enjoying the aftershocks of your orgasms.

A few minutes later, when your breathing returned to normal, you leaned away from Dean, intending to move, but he seemed to have a different plan.

"You hard again?", you asked in awe. You could feel him hardening and lengthening inside you, your slick walls once more stretching to accommodate him.

Dean didn’t even bother answering. He just held your legs firmly and got up, turning around so your back was against the wall and he could start thrusting. "Gonna make you cum again, baby girl", he took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and licking while you held on to him, his biceps slippery from the water. 

A dozen thrusts later, he throbbed inside you, burying himself deep and definitely leaving bruises on your hips where he held you. You would wear his marks proudly. Dean's cum filled you once more, and he pulled his cock off of you to gently lay you on the bench, holding your spread legs and using his thumb and index finger to open you and watch his seed leaking out of you.

"Fuck, Y/N, you’re so fucking hot", he said, kissing your still sensitive pussy and then sucking your clit, making you whimper. You were 100% sure you would be soaked in sweat if it weren't for the shower. You felt hot all over, your body tingling and still recovering from your last orgasm. 

“Gosh, Dean, that’s so fucking good”, you praised breathlessly. Your hand reached for his head and you used your nails to scratch his scalp, giving him the perfect opportunity to bury his tongue inside you, making you arch your back and moan loud. 

He felt amazing, soothing the soreness between your legs while guiding you through your third orgasm. You obviously didn’t last long, and Dean cleaned you of your juices, drinking every drop you had to give.

You were so spent you didn’t feel like moving. Getting up, Dean kissed you, long and passionately. With your eyes closed, you heard him turning the shower off and opening the towel closet. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed”. He wrapped you in a big towel and carried you, bridal style, to your bedroom, where he dried your hair and dressed you back in his robe.

You felt tired in the best way, laying on your side on the big bed, facing your hot boyfriend. “Dean, that was so amazing. Thank you”, you said, pulling his face towards yours to give him a quick kiss.

He chuckled, kissing you back. “I think I should be the one thanking you, Y/N/N. You really did change my mind”.

“Yeah? What do you think about shower sex now?”, you asked, teasing him.

“I think it’s awesome!”.

THE END

—————————————

If you came this far, thank you for sticking up with me! I don’t have a tag list yet, but I’m gonna tag some lovely people who always support me with their likes, reblogs and comments. Please, if you don’t want to be tagged on future posts, just let me know, no worries! Or, if you weren’t tagged but want to be, you can message me too 😉

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior , @avanatural, @charred-angelwings, @itsthemegacoven , @eevvvaa , @ejlovespie

[thatlovinfeelin]

Eye Of The Storm -four- Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Baby Kazansky X Rooster

One  Two  Three

The three girls were laughing as they packed up some of Molly’s things. Really, just the last two boxes and her small duffel bag. They had an old volleyball playlist blasting through the apartment, singing and dancing around as they went. There were several bottles of beer strewn around the living room, none of them keeping track to which belonged to whom.

“He’s coming in today right?” Erika asked, handing Molly a faded sweatshirt.

“Yeah, his flight is supposed to get in later this afternoon,” Molly replied, checking her phone again, “He said he’d text me before he took off from his layover so I could go pick him up.”

“I do believe you’re blushing Bliz,” Beth nudged Molly.

“Three thousand uninterrupted miles with him? I’d be blushing too,” Erika shrugged, “Even if he wasn’t fourteen years older.”

“Thirteen,” Molly said under her breath, “I’m going to make another sweep of my room to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

Beth shot Erika a look before getting up to follow Molly, who not so subtly slammed the door in her friend’s face. What they couldn’t see was the way Molly’s face crumpled as she covered her mouth, trying not to make a sound.

Thirteen years. Thirteen years separated her from Rooster. She knew that already, of course. But for some reason she was able to almost ignore it. But now…now he was coming. Now he was sitting in an airport, waiting to get on the last flight that would bring him to her. They would drive back to California and she would be living within ten minutes of him for the whole summer. There was no ignoring it anymore. In comparison, she was a child. Not even twenty-two yet, while he was thirty-five. She was a child. He was a grown man. Older than her oldest sibling. Born before her parents were even married. Just a year and a half before, but still.

“Hey, c’mon Mol, she didn’t mean to upset you,” Beth said from the other

side of her door, “We were just pulling your chain.”

Even if they were messing with her, Molly knew they had a point. He was too old for her. Her family would never approve, and realistically, how much of a future would they have? Everyone would judge them, or make fun of them. Molly swore something in her chest broke. For the last few weeks she could almost imagine how life could be with him. But now, she could almost see it crumbling around her, all because of one simple realization.

“Damn you Erika,” Beth grumbled, “You just had to bring that up.”

“Oh, so this is my fault?” Erika shot back.

“She won’t come out now, so yeah.”

Molly sat on the floor with her back against her door. She picked at her nails, trying to calm herself down. Maybe him coming was a bad idea. But it was too late to call him and cancel now. Besides, she hated the idea of driving all the way home by herself.

Her room was empty now, aside from the bedroom set that she was leaving behind, and the few boxes still left. This was her home for three years, and tomorrow she was going to leave it all behind.

Molly could hear hushed voices outside, before a strong knock on her bedroom door, “Mak? Are you in there?”

She pushed herself up from the floor and flung the door open. He looked almost beautiful, still just as tan with his cheeks and nose slightly burnt. She felt like all of the air was forced out of her body. He wasn’t supposed to be here yet. She was meant to pick him up later.

“Wha-” She shook her head, “What are you doing here?”

“I had an earlier flight, I thought I would surprise you.”

Her body seemed to move before she could process, throwing her arms around him. He let out a little laugh and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin. His body was warm and solid against her. She still felt safe in his arms, she hated how she did though.

“You’re here.”

His hands gently held her face, looking deep into her eyes. He could tell she’d been crying. Just knowing that something happened made his chest ache. Beth and Erika said they upset Molly, but he didn’t think he’d find her crying.

“What happened?” He asked gently, waking in just far enough that he could kick her door closed behind him.

She shook her head, settling down on her bed, “Nothing. Just roommate stuff.”

“So we can talk about everything for months,” He stated, “But the second I’m here, you freeze up?”

She shrugged, not knowing how to put everything she was feeling into words. How could she explain it, when she didn’t even know how he felt about her. Maybe he didn’t even care about her like that, maybe he was just being friendly and taking care of her due to obligation.

“Okay, well, how about I give you your graduation present,” He fished a black box out of his pocket, “Then maybe you’ll feel like talking.”

“I told you not to get me anything, Rooster,” She groaned.

He just smiled and sat down next to her, “It’s small.”

He opened the box to reveal a small silver bird on a chain, “It’s supposed to be a snowbird.”

“A snowbird?”

“So you don’t forget about being Blizzard,” He replied softly, “You kept saying that you were worried about coming home.”

She didn’t have any words. Truthfully, it might have been the most thoughtful gift she received. He carefully put the necklace on her before stopping to look at her. She looked different. Somehow, it was like being in Connecticut changed her. He expected her to be free, but instead it looked like weights were on her shoulders, pulling her down.

“I can’t-” She shook her head quickly before reaching over to hug him, “Thank you.”

He was quiet for a moment, just holding her. Part of him couldn’t convince himself that she was even real. Part of him wondered if he should even be here with her. He didn’t want to cross any lines with her. The last thing Rooster wanted to do was spook her. There was still so much about her that he didn’t understand. But he wanted to.

“You’re here,” She whispered against his chest.

“I’m here.”

“I missed you, Roost.”

“I missed you too,” He replied softly, before kissing the top of her head, “Congratulations.”

She sat up, brows furrowed, “You called me Mak, earlier. What was that about? You’ve never called me that before.”

He couldn’t help but smile, “M.A.K, your initials. I figured you needed a new nickname since you said you wouldn’t be going by Blizzard after you leave here. I can stop if you don’t like it.”

She shook her head, smiling a little, “Actually, I love it. For the record, you’re BRB in my phone.”

His laugh was almost like music to her. She loved the way his hand was resting on her leg, squeezing it slightly before laying back on her bed. The worry was gone for a while. She was comfortable with him. He didn’t look like he was that much older than her. Sometimes she didn’t feel like he was. Maybe age wasn’t even real once you were fully legal. Did it even matter anyway?

“We were all planning on going to the bar tonight, one last round with the teams, you know? But we don’t have to go.”

“You really want to stay in for your last night here?” He questioned.

She shrugged, “I would, if you don’t want to go out.”

He sat up, smiling at her, “Show me how you party, Blizzard.”

Three hours later, Molly, the remaining half of her old volleyball team, Rooster, and random members of the boys team were all crowded into one of the local bars. Molly was already three shots in, dancing around with her friends. Rooster sat back watching her, watching the freedom she seemed to have found. He loved the way she smiled as moved around everyone. She was fluid in a way, not much unlike a feather drifting on the wind.

She danced around with a drink in her hand, as if she didn’t have a single care in the world. Her necklace shimmered in the low light of the bar, making Rooster smile. Molly was a free bird.

“Blizz!”

Molly spun around, throwing herself in the arms of the young man behind her. She felt nothing but pure joy. One last night surrounded by her friends, her little college family. Jack, or Frost as he was known to the men’s team, was her counterpart. They played the same position, and played the same way. Blizzard and Frost, two sides of the same coin. Molly often thought that in another life, she could’ve loved Jack.

“Frosty,” She laughed, kissing his cheek, “You’re going to be so lost without me.”

“No kidding,” He hugged her tightly, “C’mon, let's get a shot. We need shots.”

Molly held onto Jack’s hand as he pulled her through the crowded space towards the bar. In a strange way, she felt a bit of pain in her chest knowing she was leaving him behind too. Jack was a year younger, just going into his senior year of college. They met during his orientation week and grew close during the first few weeks of practice. Somehow, they understood each other in a way that the others couldn’t.

“So, who’s the guy?” Jack’s mouth was close to her ear so she could hear him over the noise.

“What guy?”

“Eighties porn stache.”

Molly tried to hide her smile. She could see Beth and Erika dragging Rooster out to dance with them, laughing hard at the goofiness of his movements. Warmth spread throughout her, because like that, he looked younger.

“That’s Bradley,” She responded simply, “He’s driving back with me. He’s a…friend.”

“Oh shit,” Jack leaned back against the bar, “You have that dreamy look. Holy shit.”

“Nope, this conversation is off limits,” She warned, picking up the shot glass and downing the contents quickly.

“I’m not saying that as your…whatever we were…” He defended himself, “I’m saying that as a friend, Molly. Be careful, okay? You choose how much of yourself you give away. You choose what he gets, not the other way around.”

Molly’s heart felt like it was in her throat. Jack, sweet Frost, knew everything about her. She didn’t plan on being so close to him, but little bits came out over drinks during the course of his freshman year. Some things were almost like pillow talk when she would crash in his crap room at his Frat house. But he knew it all, he knew why she kept everyone but a select few people at more than an arm’s length. He protected her, and cherished the parts that she gave him, he kept them safe until she was ready to really give herself to someone again.

“You turn into such a sap when you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, maybe a bit,” Jack laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulder, “C’mon, you should go save porn stache from the girls. They might try to jump him.”

He was quiet for a minute before he spoke again, “Off the books, and I will deny this if you mention it again…but damn, if I were you, I would already be in bed with him.”

“Shut up.”

When they returned to the group, Molly grabbed onto Rooster’s arm pulling it around her. She leaned back into him, feeling his warmth. It didn’t matter that she was already sweaty from the heat of the bar and the alcohol. But she didn’t care, she liked the feeling of him being near.

By the end of the night, he was having to help her into her room. She could walk still, but by no means could she walk straight. She was still coherent though, but she laughed at almost everything. Rooster couldn’t decide if he liked seeing her like this or not.

He watched as she drank several glasses of water before collapsing back on her bed, “We leave tomorrow.”

He nodded as he tucked her blanket around her, “We do. Are you okay?”

She hummed, snuggling into her bed, “Just gonna be strange, ya know? Haven’t lived in North Island in years. Being back under my parents roof and shit.”

He couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. He remembered what it was like to be in his twenties, but then again his life was a little different. But he could imagine that it would be strange for her, after having so much freedom for the last few years.

“But you’ll be just down the road,” She sighed, closing her eyes, “It helps knowing that. Won’t have to go across the country to see you.”

“Get some sleep,” He said softly, “We’re leaving around 9, okay?”

The next morning, Rooster helped Molly and the girls pack up the rest of Molly’s truck. Several members of the team showed up to say goodbye, though most of them were still hungover from the night before. There were some tears, lots of them. Molly hugged every one of them, promising to call them when she got settled.

Beth and Erika waited until everyone else was gone. The three girls stood in front of her truck, crying and holding each other as tightly as they could. They spent four years together, and lived together for three. To Molly, they were as good as her own sisters. She loved them so much.

“We’ll come out before the end of summer,” Beth promised.

“Oh shit, I almost forgot, I made you some biscuits for the road last night.” Erika handed her two big Ziploc bags, “And I put the recipe in your phone.”

“You’re going to make me cry more,” Molly covered her face with her hands, “Life is going to fucking suck without you two.”

“Alright,” Beth said, wiping tears from her cheeks, “I need to go now before I end up on the ground. I love you so much. Hey, flyboy, get her home in one piece. I have the Admiral himself on speed dial.”

“She isn’t kidding,” Molly laughed, crying harder now, “My dad loves them. I’ll call you guys at every stop.”

“You better,” Erika hugged her once more, “I love you Molls.”

“Okay, you guys need to leave, because I won’t get in the car if you keep standing here,” Molly told them, taking a step back.

It took another thirty minutes for them to get on the road. Molly was ready to leave, but at the same time the thought of leaving made her sick. The radio was playing softly throughout the truck. Rooster was driving, seeming to understand she would need a little while to process.

She quietly watched as Connecticut started to blur by them. Three thousand miles until she was back in San Diego. It almost didn’t seem real to her. But then there was Rooster, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console, looking so relaxed.

“Are you doing okay?” He quietly asked her.

“Yeah, it’s just weird knowing that I’m closing one chapter of my life and starting another. It’s a good kind of strange though, I think.”

He reached over to pat her knee, “New beginnings are a good thing.”

She took a deep breath before looking over at him, “Is it weird that I’m glad you’re here. Like, I’m glad you’re the one I’m doing this with?”

He smiled softly, looking over at her for a minute, “No, it’s not weird. I’m glad that you wanted me here.”

She laughed for a minute, “It was cool seeing you last night with everyone. You almost looked like you belonged there. I don’t know, it was- uh it was fun.”

“I had fun last night too, Molly,” His voice was soft.

She looked down, her hair falling into her face to hide the blush that started to creep up her cheeks. Molly wasn’t sure how she was going to make it back to San Diego in one piece when he was so close to her. She swore her heart would give out if he smiled at her again, or touched her.

“So that guy that you went to the bar with last night…what’s the story there?” He suddenly questioned.

Molly nearly choked on air. That wasn’t a question she expected to get from him. She didn’t think she would ever have to explain her relationship with Jack to Rooster. Nor was she sure how she could explain it all.

“That was Frost. Oh sorry-uh-shit- Jack. His name is Jack,” She stammered, “Frost is his team nickname, like how they all call me Blizzard.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured that. Who is he?”

Molly couldn’t look at Rooster as she swallowed and took a deep breath, “A friend, kind of. He looked after me,” She shook her head again, trying to get a clear thought, “I guess you could say he’s kind of my wingman. Or was…that kind of job can’t be done from all the way across the country.”

She could see him nodding from the corner of her eye. Molly truly wanted to just shrink away. She didn’t want to be having this conversation this early in the morning, and she certainly didn’t want to have it with Rooster.

“Friends are good to have in your twenties,” There was a different inflection on the word friends. His voice almost seemed forced.

“Okay, we aren’t talking about this anymore. It’s making me uncomfortable,” She stated.

They stayed silent for a while as she looked out the window. But something seemed to be gnawing at her, refusing to let her have a moment of peace. Finally, she groaned before turning to face Rooster.

“This should be weird. You and I…whatever we are. But it’s not, right?” Molly wished her voice sounded steady and confident, but she knew it didn’t, “I mean, I feel comfortable with you. I like being with you, and talking to you. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Feels like we’ve known each other forever, right?” Rooster’s voice rang out through the quiet car a few minutes later, “I’ve thought about it, you know? How I should keep my distance, or how your father would actually murder me for being near you.”

“He isn’t that bad,” Molly tried and failed to convince both of them.

Rooster chuckled, both hands now gripping the steering wheel, “The point is, Molly, I like being around you too. I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t feel the way I do,” He shook his head before glancing over at her, “But dammit, Molly. I don’t think you understand the power you hold.”

Molly couldn’t help but laugh. Rooster clearly didn’t understand her feelings about this whole situation. For her, he held all of the power. Somehow causing her to do things she swore she never would, feel things she promised herself she’d never feel again. Almost like they were set on a collision course with no hope of rescue.

At first she tried to keep him at a distance. But after one night during spring break, that plan was smashed to bits. The exact events were still fuzzy, thanks to the sheer amount of alcohol everyone downed while on the beach. But she knew it ended with Rooster having her backed against the side of the bar, mouth dangerously close to hers. But just as she thought he would kiss her, he shook his head, seeming to regain cognitive functions again, and backed away. He swore he wouldn’t do that again, and apologized more than enough. She realized the next morning that she liked his touch a little too much.

Every day since she kept trying to convince herself it was nothing. She didn’t feel sparks every time he touched her, her heart didn’t threaten to explode with every letter, and she certainly didn’t feel the ache in her chest after every phone call. All she was doing was lying to herself though. Because she felt all of those things, and then some.

“You know what, I think I’m going to close my eyes for a little bit,” Her words seemed almost robotic and very guarded, “I think I’m a little hungover. And we definitely shouldn’t be having this conversation on the first day of the drive, so just forget I said anything.”

Molly reclined her seat and rolled over, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see the way her eyes were watering. She wouldn’t cry in front of him. Not over this. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was someone she could never have. Her father loved him too much, and felt too responsible for him. She was too young for him, and could never give him everything he should have from life.

But in a lot of ways, it was too late. They already collided, and neither would ever be the same again. They were already intertwined, a part of the other in ways they would never really understand.

Rooster sighed and turned up the radio just a bit, trying not to let the quiet drive him insane. But all he wanted to do was reach out and hold the hand of the girl sitting next to him. Instead, he turned his eyes back towards the road ahead of them and tried to focus on getting through the next few days without crossing any of the boundaries he set for himself.

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

4 Oct. Suptober: Secrets

"Thank you for understanding," Cas said quietly behind him.

Dean turned around at that. He fought to keep his voice even. "What, exactly, am I understanding here."

au (choose ur own season! Charlie’s alive, no-one’s possessed); deancas, mildly nsfw

The ceiling in this room was strewn with runes, which shouldn't have startled Dean for at least two reasons. 

First, parts of the bunker's labyrinth of corners, closets, and hidey-holes had been designed for a variety of purposes only a few of which the Men of Letters had deigned to actually write down somewhere. The rune room, by contrast, was much more straightforwardly dedicated to runology, and whichever MoL had been in charge of decorating had gone with the obvious. In addition to the books, field research, and reels on runes and the collection of tablets, boxes, knives, almanacs, placards, plates, and skins (ugh) patterned with archaic alphabets, there were whole passages of rune poetry, songs, and spells painted on all available surfaces.

Secondly, and more importantly: there were five old quilts piled on the floor behind the tallest bookcase, and while Dean had spent multiple occasions underneath this ceiling, often while flat on his back on the quilts, he was usually preoccupied with amusements more potent than whatever the hell was spelled out between the bookcase's top shelf and the wall.

"Are you going to move anytime soon?" he whispered, smiling into Cas's hair.

Cas made a small noise of protest and did not shift his weight off of Dean.

"You're heavier than you look." Dean stroked his hands down the length of Cas's back, beneath the shirt they'd rucked up but hadn't managed to remove. "Earth to Castiel." He wiggled around on the quilts a little.

Eyes screwed shut, Cas pushed himself up just enough to slide off but remain plastered to Dean's side. 

Dean knocked his forehead against Cas's. "Hey." 

He couldn't figure out what to say in response to the look Cas gave him then. 

Bruised, Dean thought; vulnerable. 

Had he somehow hurt Cas while they…?

"I'm fine, Dean," Cas said, as though that wasn't the thing they both lied to one another about on a regular basis. He chewed his lip for a moment. 

"Cas--"

"I don't think we should keep doing this anymore." Cas had his eyes closed again, as if against a blinding light.

Dean blinked up at the ceiling. It was surprisingly blurry.

"All right," he offered. 

"It's just." Cas swallowed. "We agreed this was not." 

He moved away until he was flat on his back at the edge of the blankets. Dean's skin seemed to chase the missing warmth like it could call somehow it forth in the gap between their bodies.

"Not what," Dean said flatly.

"I don't remember what we called the arrangement." Cas sat up, reached for his boxer briefs and trousers slung over the nearest desk chair. "Casual."

Dean sat up as well, since it seemed quality time in the ol' pleasure palace had definitively ended. He wiped down quickly, with the washcloth he'd remembered to bring, put on his t-shirt and underwear while still sitting down, and stood up to tug on his jeans. His back to Cas, he put his arms into his flannel button-down and leaned against the bookcase. Nothing about getting dressed was strenuous, yet he was exhausted.

"Thank you for understanding," Cas said quietly behind him.

Dean turned around at that. He fought to keep his voice even. "What, exactly, am I understanding here."

Cas hadn't tucked in his shirt yet. The more-disheveled-than-usual wardrobe, combined with his uncombed hair and soft, sad eyes, got Dean going towards him before he even realized he was moving, tramping over the quilts. 

"It's not supposed to mean anything," Cas said, like he was apologizing for some trespass Dean could only guess at. "I broke the rules."

"We didn't." Dean stopped when he was basically standing nose to nose with him, an inch or two's worth of height neither here nor there. "There weren't any rules, not really."

Because that would have required more talking, and Dean, for one, had not wanted to talk. What he'd wanted was Cas under his hands, Cas's mouth on his, Cas naked, Cas gasping, Cas inside him hot and sweet as sin and salvation. And Dean had all that, and then some, for a couple months of sneaking at random if persistent intervals into this fucking room -- literally, a fucking room -- covered all over in what may as well have been secrets. Dean didn't speak a single rune language and apparently he didn't speak Cas either.

Cas couldn't move any further away without merging with the wall. His eyes on Dean's were so--

"This hasn't been meaningless, to me," Cas said, mouth turned down as though he expected Dean to hate him for the confession.

Dean took a step backward. "It hasn't been to me either." 

Cas looked at him like he'd spoken in Dalecarlian. Dean's heart clenched. He felt like he was just beginning to see the shape of what was happening, like if he looked away from Cas he would lose something precious he'd only just realized he was supposed to keep firmly in his grip.

Cas held his gaze, searching. He seemed to discover a revelation. "Oh," he said, his eyes suddenly alight.

The relief flooding over Dean was like diving into a clear, cool lake on a sweaty summer day. "Oh," he agreed, crowding into Cas's space again.

He hadn't kissed Cas but a dozen or two times in the last hour. Some remedies were easily executed.

Cas's hand tightened in his hair at the rap-rap-rappp on the door. His mouth was very red and Dean gentled the kiss without conceding it was necessary to actually stop kissing despite the interruption.

"If you guys are gonna be done with your research any time soon," Charlie called from the hallway, with a sarcastic emphasis on the word research, "Sam and I are ordering some Chinese. If, you know, you wanna eat some dinner with us later."

Dean waited until her footsteps faded. "She might be on to us."

Cas quirked an eyebrow. "Didn't you tell her what was going on almost from the start?"

Ah. Yeah, Dean had forgotten doing that. There were some real downsides to day drinking.

"And I told Sam after maybe a week," Cas said, with such innocence it only took five or six years off of Dean's life.

Dean laid his head on Cas's shoulder with a hidden groan and tried to recalibrate. "Wait. Why have we been sneaking around in here if everyone knows?" 

Not that two other people equalled the entirely of their acquaintance pool, but still.

"I thought you were enjoying the secretive nature of our encounters." Cas somehow managed to sound both prim and snarky. His eyebrow was working hard.

Dean took Cas's head in his hands and kissed his forehead. "The floor quilts are great. Y'know what would be even better? A mattress, Cas." 

"Noted."

Several hours later, Dean discovered that the ceiling in Cas's room was boringly plain white, not a runic inscription or rhyme in sight. He didn't mind.