#The second time I tried convincing him to use a parasite but I failed the check and he scolded me thoroughly

[lesbianwyllravengard]

I'm always surprised to see people express their disbelief that Wyll could ever get pissed off because I managed to do it accidentally like twice on my first playthrough just by trying to be silly. Like yeah he's super charismatic and takes blows with utmost grace and deals them back easy but everyone has a limit... why am I the only one making him mad tho y'all are making me feel miserable

[batgirl191919]

Day 21, (Part 1) A Kiss

This is from my longer GalexDurge OC fic—click here for more

If you would like some build-up to this scene, I suggest reading from here.

Summary: This occurs shortly after Elminster tells Gale about the Netherse Orb and what Mystra has planned for him. Kore (Durge OC) is struggling with the news and trying to come up with a way to convince Gale that he doesn't have to go through with this.

*I am convinced that the second the orb was stabilized, Gale would AT LEAST kiss Tav. THE MAN WAS ALONE IN HIS TOWER FOR A YEAR! HE IS TOUCH-STARVED, AND YOU CAN'T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE!

Spoilers(ish) ahead if you haven't yet played the game or done Gale's romance route.

Here is the link for this chapter on AO3

Day 21, (Part 1) A Kiss 

Kore was at the shore of the lake for a long time. 

Last Light Inn was slowly waking up behind her, but she made no move to go and join the early morning bustle just yet. 

A few moments ago she had an unexpected visitor, and she was still unsure of what to make of the encounter.  

At first, she had not noticed the old man behind her. She was deep in thought, forming a steely resolve to find another way for her and Gale to get rid of the Absolute without using the Netherese orb.

Then she felt a presence behind her—one of power… and magic.

Still, it surprised her to see Elminster watching her curiously and carefully some paces away from the lake. There was a portal behind him as if he had decided to leave and then, at the last minute, decided to come looking for her. 

Why her?

Kore did not speak. She tried not to glare at him, but she most likely failed in doing so. 

“I encharged Gale with Mystra’s orders,” the wizard finally began to say as Kore wrapped her arms tighter around herself. 

“To you, I commit into care Gale himself. I count on you to shepherd him well on this strangest of journeys.” 

Kore couldn’t stop herself from scoffing. Did the old man really expect her to lead Gale to his own death? What did he even expect her to do—to ensure that Gale went through with Mystra’s commands? 

Her voice was dry and cold when she finally responded, “You came a long way, Elminster, but if your plan was for Gale to follow through with this and for the rest of us to sit idly by—for me to sit idly by—then I am afraid your trip was a waste of time. Perhaps, in another life, Gale would have done as Mystra said… but I’m afraid your mistress didn’t account for everything.” 

Elminster raised a brow, but his face remained mostly expressionless. 

“She didn’t account for me. And I will find another way… I will not allow him to do this,” her voice broke, and she turned back around to face the lake again. After she sucked in a deep breath, Kore finished with, “I don’t care if you tell her about me or not… but if you do… let her know that she won’t be deciding for Gale anymore. His life is his own.” 

The ancient wizard didn’t say anything else to her, and Kore eventually heard his footsteps retreating against wet sand, then there was silence. He was gone. 

It’s a dangerous thing to defy a god. 

The dream visitor contemplated in her head.

Kore snapped back—

I would face every god of the Faerûn pantheon if it meant he would get to live. 

Her guardian was quiet for a moment. Then he slowly spoke, slightly hesitant-

There is a way you have not yet considered. You have yet to use the parasite’s true powers.

Kore thought of the live mind flayer parasite specimens that Halsin kept in his pack… the dream visitor had promised her great power and abilities if she consumed more of them. She shook her head. She was already carrying one worm against her will; she wouldn’t let more leech on her willingly.

 No… no, there will be another way. 

The guardian didn’t say anything back to her, but a part of Kore’s unsettled mind lingered on the promise of these special powers…

Her brief visit with Elminster had perhaps happened a little less than an hour ago. Yet, Kore couldn’t seem to move from where she was in the lake. Though she was shivering now, and the cold water had thoroughly soaked the entirety of the bottom of her nightgown, she couldn’t bring herself to face anyone else just yet. Her jealousy of Mystra had begun to consume her once more, and she was fighting hard to overcome it. 

It would be so much easier if Mystra were not constantly talked about. 

She was tired of hearing the goddess’ name. There was a sting that came along with it, even though Kore was sure that Gale didn’t intend for the mention of the Mistress of Magic to hurt her.  

After all, Mystra was the Weave, and Gale’s skill with magic was a part of him.

He had told her so; his connection with the Weave was something he couldn’t give up, something she would not want him to give up. Not because he needed to be powerful for Kore but because it was something that he enjoyed, something that he loved. And so that probably meant that Mystra perhaps would always be a part of his life.  

How could one separate the two? 

And even when he did bring up his goddess, his past lover, Gale only sought to be honest about his past. Something Kore had been unable to do… she couldn’t tell him about her past lovers, about anything really when it came to her past life. A part of her felt guilty suddenly. She hadn’t told him about Sceleritas Fel… or about the memory she had the previous night during that awful dream…

Kore suddenly felt like someone had slapped her across the face.

How could she have been so dense? Only now did she realize that…

That all this time, when Gale talked of Mystra around Kore… he didn’t do it because he was still in love with the goddess. He had made it clear that his feelings for her, however complicated, were not romantic. But Kore had doubted this because he talked about her so much… because his life seemed to be permanently intertwined with her being…

It was impossible for Gale, for anyone, to separate the goddess of the Weave from magic itself. 

Was it not the same for her and all druids with Silvanus? 

And… the way Gale was able to talk about his past, no matter how painful it was to him, no matter if he feared that Kore or the others would judge him for it… he was able to do so because he felt comfortable enough with Kore to share a part of himself. 

Just like she had confided in Astarion about the urges, and he had let her see the scars on his back, Gale was… being vulnerable. Why hadn’t she seen it that way?

Instead of focusing on comforting him and sharing his burden… instead of being truthful with him, she had been jealous.

Her heart ached.

Because she knew that she had been unfair and because she knew that it wouldn’t be easy to convince Gale to defy Mystra. But she loved him, and she needed him to know that even though she couldn’t understand all of his hurt, she would be here for him. She would face the consequences with him, whatever they may be—because as long as she was with him, she feared little. 

Kore turned, running out of the lake. Water splashed around her, and only one thought filled her mind. She needed to find Gale; she needed him to know how she felt—

She cried out in surprise as she was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace, her chest smashed against the man holding her, his hands gripping her waist before moving up her tensed body.

Kore looked up, her eyes wide as she met Gale’s hazel ones for just a second, taking in the fact that he was out of breath as if he had been running around looking for her. His chest rose and fell against her own, and she saw a ravenous look in the wizard’s eyes—one that she had seen before, one that remained unconsummated. But now that longing was paired with something else, a carnal determination set on only one thing.

She opened her mouth to ask if he was alright, but she didn’t get the chance to say anything before one of Gale’s hands gripped the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her curls as he pulled her even closer to him, crashing his lips onto hers in a bruising kiss. 

Kore felt herself jolt back at the sudden action, but Gale’s tight hold prevented her from moving away. She melted into his arms as her hands desperately sought his body, grabbing his robe and clenching the soft material in her fists. She could smell the morning mist on him, along with his usual lingering aroma of worn paper and books. His touch, his scent, his taste were intoxicating to Kore, who was losing herself in the kiss—the rest of the world became muted around her. 

The hand that was still in her hair softly forced her to tilt her chin up as Gale deepened the kiss, his tongue entering her mouth in a smooth motion. Kore heard herself moan, and she felt how her cheeks reddened at the unexpected lusty noise. Her desperate whine seemed to encourage the wizard, and he pressed into her as his tongue continued to tease hers. 

A frenzied feeling took over her as she savored the feel of his body against hers. Emboldened by her desire, which had gone so long without this kind of intimacy, Kore nipped at Gale’s lips, and she thought she heard him curse against her mouth, a low growling sound that made her shiver. The hand on her waist moved up to her throat, and she felt the slightest pressure as he squeezed her neck. 

Everything was quiet, everything except for her needy noises and the sounds of their kiss. 

Kore was sure she had never experienced such yearning as this. She had wanted to kiss Gale so badly these past few days, but she had never expected that it would feel as consuming as it did now—an unstoppable heat that enflamed her body, sourced at her center and spanning out into her limbs until she felt her legs quiver. 

A dizzying feeling bloomed through Kore, and she felt breathless, but she didn’t want him to stop. 

Eventually, Gale reluctantly pulled away, placing a more chaste kiss on her mouth as his calloused hand stroked part of her face and throat.

Kore searched his gaze, still recovering from the intensity of the past moment. She was sure that a look of mixed pleasure and awe was apparent on her face because Gale was watching her with a small smirk on his reddened lips. 

They were silent for a long moment, and Kore eventually had to look away. Gale’s eyes were dark, lustful, and saying everything that remained unspoken, too intense for her now that she suddenly felt more timid around him. 

“I needed to ensure I kept my promise.” 

Kore tilted her head in confusion, “Promise?” 

“I told you nothing or no one would keep me from you when the issue of the orb was resolved.”

Kore looked down at his chest; the markings were slightly alight, but the glow and the power of the orb were obviously contained in a way they had not been before.

“Oh,” was all she could say for a while.

Gale’s thumb brushed her lips, tugging on the bottom one, and Kore had to hold herself back from whining—from begging him to kiss her again. 

“You’re a good kisser,” she said breathlessly. 

Gale laughed softly, “And you’re a bad liar. I lived the life of a hermit for some time before I met you—safer for all, but not conducive to pleasures of the flesh.”

Kore shook her head, “I meant what I said.”

The wizard looked away, somewhat shy from the compliment, “Thank you.” 

“So the orb really is stabilized then…” she whispered as she placed her hand over the mark.

“Yes.” 

“And… and…”

Gale sighed,  “And an audience with Elminster is never less than memorable.”

Kore waited when he paused, hoping he would tell her that he would choose not to follow Mystra’s order—that he would choose to live. 

“I’d have hoped to introduce you to him in less dire circumstances, but those are hard to come these days.”

“I would have liked him perhaps… if he had come bearing better news.” 

Gale was silent again for a moment. Finally, in a low voice, he muttered, “For Mystra to have sent him… the severity of her bidding could not be clearer. Or weigh more heavily on me.

His finger traced her jawline, and Kore shuddered as his still-hungry eyes fixated on her mouth, “Time seems so infinite when you are young… a month is an age, a year is a lifetime… it is a strange feeling—to realize how little of it one might have left.”

Gale leaned down to kiss her again, and as much as she wanted him to, Kore forced herself to push him away. She looked at him with disbelief, “Gale, you can’t be seriously considering doing what Elminster said.” 

He seemed confused by her words, “Of course I am. He offered the clearest solution to our problem. All I have to do is find the right place and time, close my eyes, and let go… Then the slate will be clean, wrongs will be righted, the Absolute will be gone… and I along with it.”

“How could you say all of this? Why can’t Mystra just destroy the Absolute?” 

“I’ve no doubt she has the power to do so, but as for the permission… Ao would not look kindly on her meddling in mortal affairs. Divine intervention has a tendency to make things worse, not better. My orb is the best chance we have—and only I can wield it.”

Kore’s jaw clenched and released, “Well, I do not accept this. There must be another way. We will find another way.” 

Gale’s voice became gentle as if he was trying to figure out how to tell a small child bad news, “Sweetheart, I’ve been living on borrowed time in more ways than one. Perhaps… perhaps this is how it must be…” 

He tried to smile, but Kore could see the pain and sadness he was failing to hide, “But that remains ahead of us for now; the Heart of the Absolute must be discovered before I can stop its beating.” 

Kore grabbed his shoulders, wanting to shake him, to make him see reason, but she only squeezed him slightly, “I won’t let you do this.” 

“You may feel differently once we know what we’re truly up against,” he murmured against her hair before pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

Her tone became sharp, “Do you remember what you said to me? After my nightmare? You told me the past is the past. Even if you atone now, you cannot change what has happened. Do you remember that? What good will come of you dying?”

“A lot of good.”

“According to her!” Kore swore and stepped away from him, summoning all her courage. She met Gale’s eyes once more, her voice slightly begging now, “Gale, please, I… I love you.” 

 “Farewell, my friend.”

“Farewell, Elminster. I’m glad she chose you.” 

It was only some hours ago that Gale watched Elminster walk through another portal, leaving him behind in the empty courtyard of Last Light Inn. 

His first thought had been that he needed to go find Kore, but something stopped him. He wasn’t sure that he could face her just yet—not when he knew he would not be able to find the words to say to her. 

How could he bear to look at Kore now? He could not comfort her. How could he do that when he knew what had to be done?

Fear froze him in place for a while as he found himself looking at his past, wondering what he could have done differently so that this wouldn’t have happened. His damn pride was primarily to blame, but he found himself trying to look for other excuses. 

Since the debacle with the Netherese Orb, Gale hoped he would have a chance to gain his goddess’ forgiveness. This entire time, he had only resolved to do whatever Mystra asked of him—before he met Kore, he would have done anything. Before he met Kore, he would have even thought Mystra’s latest command to be a just punishment. A fair price to pay for what he had done. But now, it seemed unfair, and he was not willing to blindly trust his goddess, his past lover. 

Gale didn’t want to die. 

Kore had restored a part of his soul that he was unsure he would ever gain back, and for the first time in a year, he was actually enjoying his life. 

One might consider that he was worse off now than he was then when the hunger in his chest was his sole source of worry. Considering the mind flayer parasite still swimming in his skull, he should have felt worse now. After all, their present situation was a delicate and distressing one. 

But Gale felt peace, hope, anticipation—all at once. All because of her.

The druid in front of him was watching him with a pleading expression. 

“Gale… Gale, I love you.” 

She loved him.

His throat was dry as he looked Kore over—looked over the beautiful woman who said she loved him—and he was frustrated that he could not conjure up words of comfort for her. Part of him was distracted; lust was still driving him. He had just discovered how lovely she looked when she had just been kissed. Though her eyes were angry, they were also bright, and her skin was flushed, her lips still deliciously swollen from their kiss. 

Gale hoped he hadn’t been so much of a brute, but he could see part of her cheeks were pink from the harsh rub of his beard.

When his initial panic wore off, and he realized that the orb was indeed stabilized, Gale ran up three flights of stairs, but she wasn’t in their room. He searched the common areas of the Inn and the stables before he began to look towards the lake. 

There she was, water past her ankles, her loose nightgown floating with the soft waves of the lake. 

Her hair was down, brushing around her shoulders and down her back, swaying with the cold breeze. She seemed more nymph than elf in that moment—a lovely creature of myths and legends. He had wondered what she had been thinking.

Gale often found himself wondering what she was thinking. 

There were times when Kore grew quiet, pensive, and her focus drifted away. 

Her past, or the lack of it, obviously weighed on her. Gale wished that he could do more to comfort her, though it seemed like that was a hole that could only be filled with her memories coming back. 

“Gale, I love you.” 

She loved him. 

Even with all his faults. Even with the orb in his chest. Even though she probably could have had anyone she wanted. Even with everything going on around them.

She loved him. 

And he loved her. He loved her so much that he was willing to do anything to get her a chance to restore herself. 

He loved her so much that he was willing to do anything for her. 

When he considered using the orb to defeat the Absolute, he didn’t think about doing it for Mystra; he thought about doing it so that Kore could have a real chance for a new life. 

It would be a life without him… he wished desperately it could be different—that things didn’t have to end this way. 

Kore looked away, her face getting redder, “You don’t have to say it back, I didn’t mean to put any pressure on-”

“I love you too,” Gale said as he reached out for her. 

Kore smiled, a brilliant thing to behold. Her smile put everything else he had ever seen to shame. What he would give for her to smile at him like that always. 

What he would give to live longer and see that smile every day until he breathed his last at a very old age. 

“Then promise me you will let us find another way,” she said as her grip on him became stronger, “Promise me.”

“Kore—”

“Just promise me you will consider another way,” she insisted again.

Gale felt himself relent to her plea a little. 

He doubted that there would be another way, but he would have to be an idiot to completely discount another path. Though it was perhaps a fantasy or a delusion, he would agree to Kore’s wishes. He would let himself hope for just a little that there might be another way. 

“Alright,” he replied quietly, and Kore gave him a smaller smile. 

“We will find another way.” 

Gale nodded before he pulled the beautiful elf back to him, pressing another hard kiss to her. 

She was still smiling when he looked back at her, but he could see the slight worry in her eyes. He hadn’t done a very good job of convincing her that he was considering another option. 

Gale looked away, noticing how the sleeve of her slightly too-big nightgown slipped from one of her shoulders, revealing smooth, freckled skin. He pressed his lips to her exposed shoulder before he brought up her sleeve. 

Kore looked at him through hooded eyes. 

He felt like there were still things left unsaid between them. Kore wanted to convince him that the orb was not an option at all, and Gale wanted her to understand that he would give up his life for hers without hesitation. 

But they were quiet as they turned back to Last Light Inn. 

Before they turned to go around the front, Kore looked up at him, her gaze hopeful, “Today’s a new day. A new day where our pasts do not need to define us.” 

Gale pulled her into another hug, resting his chin on the top of her head and hoping she wouldn’t see the doubt in his eyes. 

For her, he wanted to believe that there could be another way, but the more rational part of him knew that he was in his final days… and he would make sure that these final days counted for something.  

[redbusters]

hopefully this is the last long post i will ever have to make about hit disney show the owl house but I am so sick of people posting paragraphs of lukewarm takes on philip's death so. one last rant for the road, i suppose.

belos's death wasn't unsatisfying, nor was it purely physical. first of all, philip is a representation of greater societal problems (which are notably still there, remember, there's people who want to reestablish his order for their own gain). he is a plague and parasite on the world and a demonstration of humanity's worst cruelties, and his pathetic death by boiling rain and stomping as the most true and good character, who does her best to do right by everyone and believes in second chances, in the entire show, looks at him with no emotion in a way that directly parallels the way caleb's ghost looks down upon him, and he claws at her feet in a desperate attempt to use another person's good nature once again to get what he wants, and fails and dies, is INCREDIBLY symbolic.

and TWO. the point ISN'T that philip is an Evil Liar Who Lies and his backstory is being shafted for simple evil, he is an incredibly realistic depiction of how many people are consumed by their fear of what they don't understand and their hatred, let it fester into a desire to harm, and then elaborate lies to not only manipulate others but trick themselves by their own rhetoric so they don't have to feel bad for it

throughout the show philip is paralleled to cult leaders and militaristic dictators, and he is LITERALLY a puritan colonizer. philip is white man ego in its purest form. yes, the awful society is 75% the fault of Just One Guy, but this is a cartoon. he represents every man who has tried to build a world like this, who burns what he doesn't understand and makes up lies to justify it and trick his own guilt into not eating him alive.

people keep bitching that philip didn't truly face his own lies and realize how awful he was before he died, or that he wasn't given any chance to change, but philip has run the fuck out of chances. the point is he will never learn because he chooses not to. philip had to die because he'd rather lie and rot and take everyone down with him than EVER admit he's wrong. he killed his brother because he tricked himself into believing that caleb betrayed him, romanticized the idea of Caleb in his head and delusionally convinced himself that he tried to save him, while his knife hangs over his brother's ghost eternally, symbolizing the shoved down guilt he'll never truly outrun.

he made hunter believe it was his fault that philip repeatedly harmed him, he told the people of the isles after slaughtering them over and over that it's better if he rules them because he is better than them, he eternally victimizes himself over and over because he is an abuser. his lies are not just to others but to himself. he makes himself believe that the ends justify the means, when the ends are nonsensical rhetoric and the means are horrific violence. because philip is a person who may have had the capacity for good, but he chooses to live in his own hatred and rot everything around him, taking advantage of hunger for power and good natured kindness in the same breath, and he chooses to turn away from the mirror every time, to refuse to acknowledge the monster he's become because he's a coward.

the titan said it themself. his motives aren't genuine, not because he's evil for evil's sake but because he'd do anything to continue to live in his own delusion of heroism and perpetual victimhood. philip is someone you can find in the behaviors of dictators and colonists and evangelical christians and run of the mill abusers all throughout history. this doesn't make him a cookie cutter villain, it makes him a REALISTIC villain, or as realistic as you can get in a cartoon on the disney channel. he wants power and he wants admiration and he wants death and suffering to the people he's scared of, and he'd rather kill himself and take everyone down with him than ever face who he is.

not all villains need a redemption arc to be complex. he doesn't love to rub his hands together cartoonishly and watch the world burn, but some people do actually enjoy harming others. but the realism comes from how he lies to himself and others about it.

sometimes someone can be truly evil, not because they were born that way, but because they choose to be, and because they choose to live in denial about it until they're rotting in the ground.

[maelstroumwaterfall]

Arbormagic Syndrome | Chapter 13

Merula came back to her common room when it was almost already a curfew. There, in her dorm room she almost immediately spotted a letter that was right behind the door. There were no words needed to guess it was from Rowan. She took it and quickly sat down at the edge of the bed to open and read the message he left for her.

"Merula! Tomorrow we're going to the Forbidden Forest with Ismelda and Bill. I have also told Barnaby we were going to investigate the cave Maelström told me about. He wants to go with us too. Hope you'll be able to help us. We're meeting near the training field at 5 p.m."

- Damn it.. - she mumbled and threw the letter away. She had to go to the secret lab in the Potions classroom almost at the same time. She doubts she would be able to convince Snape to change the meeting time or at least find him since it seemed that he planned to go 'missing'.

She tried to think of an excuse that wouldn't make her look suspicious or just cold towards the situation. She wanted to help, to do everything to prevent other deaths and the coming danger but she'd obviously do it better with Snape than with them. They didn't even know if the cave exists, Maelström could easily just make up a cool story. The thought of disappointing Rowan was worrying her for some reason, more than it usually would.

Her heart still felt heavy after she agreed with Snape on testing every early version of vaccine on the students. She didn't know how yet, Sirius said he would explain later. She would for sure be doing it secretly, and that's the only thing she knew. The only thought about not succeeding in making a vaccine was making her feel dreaded, she was going to risk other's lives for the sake of saving more.

What if someone will find out? What will people be thinking about her? What if everything will be in waste? How many people will they have to sacrifice? She didn't want to think about any of this right now but the thoughts were coming themselves.

She managed to have a very short sleep. When it was a time to go to the Great Hall for a lunch she tried to avoid Rowan as much as possible but failed miserably and as soon as she sat down at her house's table she was approched by a familiar black-haired Slytherin.

- Merula! Have you read my letter? - he asked with a worried tone of voice, looking at her with a kind of hope in his eyes. After all she would probably be most of help as she was the first one to find out about the parasite. She knew more than others anyways and Merula could also admit that seeing the cave and the insides of herself would be useful.

- Yeah.. I know you're going to the Forbidden Forest that evening.. It'll give us a great progress if we find at least something there. - she responded in a whisper, making sure nobody else could hear her. She tried to appear confident, not wanting him to even suspect that something "important" might get in her way again, yet, she was already coming up with all the possible excuses.

- Sure. I have already made a plan for us.. At first..

- Wait. - Merula interrupted, noticing that Professor Dumbledore was actually going to give another speech while everyone was in the Great Hall. She couldn't quite see through his expression if the situation was really that dangerous or they already had a plan for dealing with the parasite. Rowan sighed and also turned to see him, already feeling the growing tension in the seconds of silence. Everyone already knew about a death of a student and disappearance of at least two other ones.

Merula thought he was probably going to at least tell the students what she told them so they would at least be careful with using magic but what she heard was that right now they all were going to have their wands checked on the presence of the traces of a parasite. The ones who has got such will be put on a quarantine they organized in Hospital Wing. She didn't know if there were other infected students besides Penny and probably Barnaby.

But they for sure know she can't be infected? Her wand had those traces for a long while already and she still doesn't have any symptoms she saw from Maelström and Penny. Or does she? She haven't used it since she noticed there was something wrong with it, after all. She unintentionally concentrated on her feelings, trying to get if she feels something strange or unusual. The mere thought about slowly losing her mind like it did Maelström was making her feel terrified and dreaded.

Was he still sane when he tried to kill her? She for sure heard him talking, his muffled words could barely be recognized as a human speech but she clearly remembered that moment and couldn't be wrong. She would never forget any second of it, even now she felt a phantom pain and remembered the terrifying feeling of being so close to death.

During the time she was thinking the students already started going to show off their magical wands. Rowan looked down at her with a hint of uncertainty, knowing what she's thinking about is if she'll be put on quarantine. If she does, the whole plan about making the vaccine will be ruined and who knows how many people will die before the vaccine is made?

-What are you going to do? They might decide not to take a risk. I know you told them everything but.. Nobody really know how it works and we also can't know if you're not infected too... - he glanced to the others, he wasn't sure but it looked like at least ten of the students he spotted nearby looked suspiciously hesitant and nervous.

-It'll be fine. They know I'm not infected or I'd already go mad like Maelström did. - she tried to reassure with a feigned confidence in her voice. In truth, she already thought of a way to avoid the situation and the best thing she could think of is to find an urgent thing to do and rush away from the Great Hall while nobody sees. - I'll come back right away. I.. Um.. I left my wand in the dorm room.

- I'll be waiting for you. I still have a lot to tell you. - Rowan nodded and gave her a faint smile, though it couldn't hide his concern. He still didn't know what was with Merula yesterday and the fact that Maelström was behaving similar way before he's gone mad only made his worries worse. He started avoiding others and spending time Merlin knows where, never explaining anything. Despite that, Khanna genuinely hopes that it's just him exaggerating things.

As soon as she was out of anyone's side she rushed down the corridor and stairs. She wasn't quite sure where she should go but as she reached the Dungeons she instinctively sneaked inside the ruins of the Potions Classroom. She tried to remember what did Snape do before the entrance of the secret lab appeared.

She tried everything, pulling the bricks out of the a wall, pressing down on them, finding the ones who seem off but all in waste. She thought about hiding somewhere 'till it's time Snape stated. It could be quite dangerous outside, the creatures from the Forbidden Forest are currently walking very near the roads and the Hogwarts grounds so she would have to hide in the Hogwarts walls.

She could probably hide in the Artefact room but there was also a high risk to be spotted. Her thoughts were interrupted by someone walking inside the room and calling out for her.

- What are you doing here?! You have to be in the Great Hall! - shouted a repulsive, slightly husky voice. The sudden appearance of Filch made Merula flinch and she immediately turned back to see his scowled grimase and Mrs. Norris hissing at her.

- They already know I'm healthy! I just came from there. - she immediately came up with the response. She couldn't help but scowl at him, of all people, of course he would be the one to ruin her plans but her expression slowly softened as she remembered he was actually the one who helped her get away from Maelström even though she didn't know if it was intentionally. After all, he for sure found her because of Maelström's yelling at her and her attempts to call for help, that meant that Filch probably knew where he was going and even brought her to the Hospital Wing by himself. That let her know he's not actually a bad person.

- Yes? We should probably go and check that out, don't we? - he stepped in, already gesturing her to go out of the room and most likely to follow him back to the Great Hall. She already made a step forward.

- No need for that, she's with me. You better go and watch the students in the Great Hall. Who's fault will it be when it turns out when the infected students who weren't put on quarantine start killing everything they see? - said a familiar, low voice behind him and Merula couldn't help but sighed in a relief.

Filch wanted to say something but the only thing they got from him was another frowned grimase. - Let's go, Mrs. Norris, to a place where there will be no people protecting violators.

Merula glanced at Snape with a look of guilt. How could she forget? He warned her about coming check and quarantine for the possibly infected students.

- I see my words came out for you as nothing as a wind to your mind? - he said in low voice, clearly with not a positive attitude. After all, it could bring troubles to both of them. He made sure there was nobody else and without looking at Snyde, came inside and now Merula could see how it was working. She didn't see it before when he did it for the first time, probably just thinking too much about what was to come as she was really nervous that day.

He took out a small glass flask of Dragon Poison and spilled it over the line between the slightly cracked brick that looked also a little burnt after the explosion. Of course she wouldn't be able to open the entrance even in the slightest. She even cursed herself for being so stupid and thinking she could really do it by herself.

He gestured her to walk in and as soon as she was inside again, she felt a sense of relief. It was hard to believe she was the only one knowing about that place, besides Snape. Before she could say anything he spoke up first as if reading her mind.

- You'll be locked up as soon as you walk up back in the Great Hall. - he stated and walked towards the organizers with the Potion flasks and ingredients. - You'll have to stay unnoticed while working on a vaccine.

- But.. How.. I can't just sit here for say and.. Also.. You said, I'll have to.. test the vaccine on the others, I'll have to go out from here over time. - she already felt a slight disgust on her tongue even before saying about testing the early versions of vaccine on the others, she still didn't know how she was supposed to do that, though she could guess. Suddenly, she remembered Rowan, who was still waiting for her in the Great Hall and hoped she would help..

- That's why I let you in earlier than I stated. - he took one of the flasks and Merula could immediately recognize the Polyjuice Potion without even thinking. Of course, he'd leave all the most useful potions in the safer places.

- I will have to pretend being someone else? But who? I'll get caught right away as soon as two same persons appear in sight. - she said though she thought that there could be a possibility about taking the physical form of the students who went missing. She knew only two of them, Ben and Tonks though she heard there were others students who have been considered missing for a week or more already. - Only if we find something from the missing students but.. It's gonna be difficult and the person can easily just.. suddenly come back.

- I'm sure the person you're gonna be won't. - as he said that, she got that he probably has already prepared for that. After all even though he warned her yesterday, she wouldn't be able to do much to avoid being noticed besides just hiding sonewhere all day long. His words somehow made her feel uneasy. How was he so sure that person wouldn't suddenly be found or come back? - Ben Copper.

- What? You know where he is? Nobody saw him since the recent incident with Waterfall.. - she asked, being barely able to hide the lingering suspicion in her voice, knowing it would most likely annoy him or who knows what else might happen. She didn't get any proper answer though.

- No need to ask useless questions. I've already told you more than enough. I hope you still know what will happen if you tell someone else at least something. - he reminded with a death glare. She tried to keep in mind that he will most likely just erase her memory but his glare was still a lot threatening and dangerous.

She knew that if she keeps asking she'll only make it worse. Her suspicious about him increased but for now, she decided to just stay by his conditions and maybe she'd find out everything later. She nodded and watched as he put a few already prepared flasks with Polyjuice Potion on the table. They were was most likely made yesterday as he stayed in the secret room while she left. He had more there, she'd need it as the potion's effect is temporary.

She took it and carefully put it in the pocket of her robe and suddenly, an idea appeared in her mind. She already thought about investigation in the cave in the Forbidden Forest, where Rowan supposed the parasite came from, would be more of use then spending first starting hours with that bit of information she, and maybe Professor Snape, have.

- Professor Snape, I.. Rowan asked me to go to an investigation in the Forbidden Forest that evening.. - she started carefully, keeping her voice still. - He supposes there's a cave where parasite came from.. Maelström told him about that before he's gona mad. I could go there as Ben if it's possible..

She couldn't quite tell if he found that idea more profitable too, but he leaned just slightly closer while listening. She had to wait for his his response for almost a minute, he seemed to be considering and thinking about the possible danger. She remembered that the roads from and to Hogsmeade were closed due to the extremely aggressive animals attacking people.

People in Hogsmeade and villages that were near had to hide in the basements as the creatures were breaking into the houses and crushing everything. There was only one owl from Hogsmeade since, it was probably still very dangerous there but if the creatures are still there, than there's less of them in the forest.

It was possible to enter the Forbidden Forrest from above and then carefully get to the cave. She wondered if Snape was thinking about the same thing and in the next second he suddenly spoke up.

- You have to go with them, after that, you'll go back here. That night we'll make a first version of vaccine. - he stated now with actually a less threatening and low voice. Merula couldn't believe her ears, trying to create a first version of vaccine this night already, with the least information they have, well, maybe, she'll get more after the investigation in the cave. She could understand why he was in such hurry, he was about to endure the same fate as Maelström and considering what she saw it actually better to be dead than endure everything the parasite makes you to.

She couldn't help but thought if he actually felt fear or at least worry about that. She couldn't see anything through his expression and she wouldn't even guess there's something wrong with him if she didn't accidentally noticed the traces of the parasite on his wand. He even brought her here, the place he was the only one knowing about probably for years and told her about his plans. He also seemed like he knew something too, the way he didn't answer her question about Ben and looked quite confident when talking about creating a first version of vaccine right that night. Maybe he knew something about other missing students? She also wondered where was the one who attacked him, she couldn't find anything in the ruins of the Potions Classroom. All of that was making her feel even more conflicted about her choice but she's already chosen her side.

[a-vamp-and-a-half]

A mix between a scoff and a laugh escapes him, ending with him holding the edge of the sink and looking down at the swirling red water

“There’s nothing to vent Host. We’re dealing with real, conscious, insidious as fuck parasites in all of your heads eating up memories cause the collective entity is throwing a sissy fit, all over losing one, ONE vampire in its stupid ‘collection’”

“And when it failed to kill me, or turn me into a Drow cause we both know that was what was gonna happen, I get ostracised! For living! For fucking surviving a full blown, traumatising as fuck attack only because some forest spirit took pity and helped!” He nearly shouts, and the lights buzz warningly above his head, electricity crackling between his horns-

He takes a deep, deep breath, forcing it out as slow as he could manage

“I thought mom hated me. For a full day” he turns, his voice quiet, his eyes watery and glowing with rage “I saw her for one fucking second, One, doing all the rituals and singing and chanting and prepping. Going to sleep and barely seeing her before she was shoving me back so hard it felt like I was b-being thrown out of tha-that burning house again. It felt like I was burning” he sniffles, wiping his nose harshly

“It felt that way, cause my body was disintegrating. In the one second I got to peak at the other side or memory or whatever the fuck it was, The Light burned. My body didn’t belong, and in the bleary moment I was still confused as hell, I thought my mom hated me” he’d looked back away, his fists clenched tight

“But she didn’t. She doesn’t. She loves me and Sia s-so much she sacrificed whatever time we could’ve had to make sure I was alive. Twice, she chose m-me” he stifles a hiccup, rubbing his eyes hard

“That was the hardest I’d lied to sis ever, in my entire life, while-while healers were running around whispering behind my back as if I couldn’t hear them. I’m damaged, not deaf”

“They all wondered if they hadn’t interrupted some divine punishment” he spits out, before shaking his head “All except Elaereth. And Neora. And Tireal. The only ones who bothered helping me trying to save Taren. The rest all, are convinced of a happy eternity after within Kal’s saving grace” he bites out bitterly

“The source, Kal, mother light, whatever the hell they wanna call it back ho-home. The entity me and Bing found in the caves, the thing that infected all of you, the horrible three that tried to control Doc in the forest, whatever is killing sis from both fuckin ends, it can all go to whatever hell exists”

“Cause they all sure as fuck exist. And they’re the source of all Hell on earth, for the Elves and Drows and Vampires and Phoenixes, for Messing with Things They Were Never Supposed to Touch”

It’s maybe the Rage he can barely contain, the magic coursing protectively through his veins and the emotions still raw within his still beating heart

But for a moment his voice rings Deeper, sharper and more Powerful, his eyes mere pinpricks of Bronze and teeth too Sharp glinting along with scattered Scales on his skin

One could almost feel the presence of something Other, of a Grander Beast within the room, Terrible and Frightening, their Power brushing over the room-

It was gone in the same moment, the sound of water running through the sink returning

“But it doesn’t matter what I believe in. They’re all cruel, selfish, entitled and need to fuck off, and leave us alone. That’s all I care about” he finishes quietly as he cleans the supplies

"... The Host wishes he could change things."

[tennesseetrekkie]

Stargate/Leverage Crossover Ideas

I’m surprised I never see more fics/ficlets/prompts/just plain posts about these two universes. They’re canonically connected! (There are Stargate symbols on the wall in Lattimer’s vault in “The Last Dam Job”, the producers confirm it too). It’s actually the main reason I started watching Leverage and my need for a crossover has only grown since. Here’s a few thoughts I’ve had:

I 100% believe that Eliot was a member of an SG team. When Aimee said “it’s like you dropped off the face of the earth”, well, he did. They only take the best of the best and that’s Eliot. He’s fully aware of the existence of the Stargate program and aliens, etc.

While serving there he got involved with Maybourne’s team, he thought it was in the best interest of his country. He was one of the very few who didn’t get caught. I like to think he still has a few souvenirs from his time off-world, several highly classified things he really shouldn’t have. I don’t believe he left the base empty-handed. It’d make sense if he had a Goa’uld healing device, but that would mean at some point he ended up with naquadah in his blood, which given all the crazy things that have happened to him in his life wouldn’t be too surprising, but that’s a whole different story...

Eliot never mentions any of this to the rest of the team, not only would this put them in danger but earth being at war with ancient, parasitical aliens is pretty heavy knowledge. This is a lot of fun when SG-1 shows up...

In a crossover with SG-1 and the OG Leverage for me it would have to consist of Cameron Mitchell (the timeline puts it after O’Neill was promoted), Samantha Carter, Daniel Jackson, and Teal’c. I can’t figure out a scenario where Vala is included and doesn’t let it slip to the Leverage crew that aliens and spae travel are a thing.

There are two scenarios in which I can think of where these two would meet: First, the Leverage crew uncover something in a job that Eliot recognizes as alien (either an artifact, or maybe even a Goa’uld, that’d be fascinating if he did have naquadah and was able to spot the Goa’uld), he tries to deal with it without letting the team know but finally has to tell Nate they need to call the Air Force, it takes a lot of convincing especially since he can’t actually say why. Second, SG-1 shows up to a job the Leverage crew is already doing. Eliot recognizes them, they recognize him. Sam might even pull her gun. He gets them away from the Leverage crew to see what’s going on, meanwhile Hardison is running their faces through one of his ID programs and now everyone is wondering why Eliot is talking to “two USAF colonels, some loser who should be on Ancient Aliens, and some guy who... doesn’t exist?”. 

Whatever the case, it’s inevitable that these two have to work together. Only thing is, the Leverage crew can’t know SG-1 is here because aliens and SG-1 can't know that the Leverage crew is here because crime. The only one who can and does know everything is Eliot, who is the constant go-between for both of these teams, and also very tired. He definitely knows the Goa’uld language and uses it to talk to Daniel and Teal’c about the more... classified details of the job when the others are around. Yet again Hardison is confused when he tries to figure out what they’re speaking only to find out that it doesn’t exist.

Parker is strangely good at guessing things. She immediately 100% believes that Teal’c is an alien. Nate, Sophie, and Hardison assure her he can’t be, even though they’re not completely sure themselves, this whole thing is too weird. 

I can’t really figure out the rest of it, which is why I’m writing it this way instead of in an actual fic, but this is... something. Not sure what. This is really the most realistic version I’ve thought up. Headcannon where the Leverage crew actually do find out include (this is not any specific sequence or headcannon, just ideas):

The crew ends up on a small ship (maybe Eliot used rings to get them out of a dangerous situation or something) and Hardison and Sophie are visibly and audibly freaking out. Nate is trying to remain calm and failing, it’s not as intense as Hardison and Sophie, but he’s definitely freaked out. Eliot, of course, just rolls his eyes and yells at them to calm down as he goes to figure out the controls. Space ain’t nothing when you’ve been there hundreds of times. Then there’s Parker... Her reaction is basically to look out a window, smile, and call it “Cool!”. Everyone is a little taken aback by how she can just be okay with this?

Upon finding out about aliens and space travel Hardison is excited, terrified, and absolutely furious at Eliot for never telling him about it. There’s a headcannon I have of those two somehow getting transported to another planet and not knowing it at first and trying to figure out where they are. It takes Eliot a while to convince Hardison that they’re on another planet, because “yeah, it looks like Canada, that’s just what alien planets look like!”. 

Sophie trying to grift aliens... The game has changed and she is loving it! A whole new universe of challenges. Seeing that would be a thing of beauty.

All of it just causes Nate to drink more, unfortunately. It’s a lot to take in. But if Eliot had to tell just one member of the team about it (both to stop them from asking him to explain what’s going on and why can’t he tell them? and to convince them of the amount of danger they’re all in) it’d be Nate. He’d come away from that conversation very visibly shaken and tell the crew that Eliot’s right, they don’t need to know, at which point they accept it and back off.

Parker handles any strange situation well, so aliens are no big deal. I bet at one point someone (not Eliot) brings up Atlantis and she theorizes that “it’s probably actually a spaceship that flew off to another galaxy!”. Nate, Sophie, and Hardison just rolls their eyes or shoot her a weird look or something because what a stretch! But Eliot nearly chokes on his drink! He has to regain his cool really quickly because now everyone is looking at him, but how can she possibly know that?? He wonders if she ever stole classified material, but nope, Parker just made the most random guess possible and nailed it because Parker.

OH! And one more thing! One night in Nate’s apartment when they’re all getting ready for dinner Hardison has it on this weird cheesy scifi show and  is all like “look at this garbage!”, Eliot takes a look and is like “wait, what??” and sits down and starts watching. Dinner is now going to be late because this is hilarious! It gets canceled after one episode but he makes sure to catch the TV movie as soon as it airs. This is how Eliot Spencer became a “Wormhole X-Treme” fan and no one has a clue why.

If anyone else has a Stargate/Leverage headcannon, please, please, please share it!! Charater interactions, different senarios, ANYTHING! And let’s all hope that, even though Stargate hasn’t been around for a while, Leverage Redemption will throw us fathful fans a bone with some kind of reference!

[pallasperilous]

Occursus

Castiel/Dean Winchester Gen/Teen, 4341 words 15x20 coda  AO3 version “The natural environment of the human soul is a human body,” Cas says. “Humans have yet to meet a foreign substrate that they don’t immediately attempt to colonize. My form in Hell was not an exception.” 

Then he shuts his mouth very deliberately and gestures back to Dean like his mic is going live in three, two. “Or the bit where my soul gave you some kind of STD?” Dean finishes. “It was a poor analogy. I apologize.” “So what’s a better one?” Castiel drums his fingers for a second. “It’s more like…the way a parasitic jewel wasp injects a cockroach with venom, and transforms it into a willing host for wasp larvae.” “Holy shit are you ever bad at this,” Dean says, with that signature brand of fond horror he special-orders just for Castiel, Angel of the Gourd.

It’s half past midnight by the time Dean gets another run at Cas.

Granted, what the fuck does half past midnight even mean here, where time is as free as tap water? Why does anybody even bother? For all it matters, Dean could set his watch to eleventy minutes past twenty o’ nope and still never miss last call.

Then again, somebody felt it necessary to invent the idea of Tuesday in the first place, and Dean’s not gonna volunteer himself for the task of replacing it with something better. What’s important is that he’s survived (or rather, he hasn’t survived) a battery of poignant moments and tearful reunions. He and Sam hugged out burdens registering in the triple digits. They even had a little fight, pretty much for the fun of it, while Ellen fucking Harvelle watched them over the bar with her eyes shining. She still charged them, though.

Right at the beginning of the party Dean and Castiel had their eyes-across-the-room thing, followed by the same magnetic, exhausted embrace they’ve shared on just about every plane of reality now. Dean supposes he could ask Cas for a nickel tour of the Empty just so they could hit for the cycle, but he’d really rather not. Sam let them eke out a few gruff, tear-choked monosyllables before diving in, sweeping Cas up in a bear hug and laughing like a fucking kid. Dean doesn’t push it, because it’s been longer for Sam, after all. Or something.

 And now it’s quiet, just the jukebox and the clink of glasses back in the kitchen, a few folks murmuring in booths. It might be dark outside, it might not; it’s waiting on Dean’s opinion before it commits to anything. And so is Cas, who is standing in the warm glow of the jukebox, hands in his pockets.

 Dean walks up, leans against it, bottle still dangling from one hand.

“C’mon, sunshine. I’ll show you yours, you show me mine.”

Cas looks up and into Dean’s eyes with the wary, elegant patience of a deer. “What is it that you would be showing me, Dean?”

Dean gives him a long, languid blink and bites his lip, and Castiel lags for half a second before rolling his own eyes. “I see death hasn’t refined your sense of humor.”

“Nope. Guess the billionth time aint the charm.”

Cas remains stonefaced, which means a corresponding you dumbass blush starts crawling up the sides of Dean’s neck. The jukebox switches records like it’s making a suggestion.

“I’m gonna sit down outside,” Dean says. “C’mon and sit down with me. There’s a patio somewhere, right? Ellen was always talking about adding one out back. No way she hasn’t bossed somebody into buildin’ it.”

“There’s a patio,” Cas says, taking his hands out of his pockets.

 Heaven’s patio is pretty nice; twenty square feet, some scattered picnic tables, fences covered in ivy and string lights. It still smells like fresh pine boards. There’s even a fire pit, which seems kinda bougie for the Roadhouse, but hell with it, it’s warm and pretty, and since when did pretentious people get to lay claim to “a hole with a fire in it”? There’s no moon overhead, and so the Milky Way is giving them the full monty — the runnelled spine of it, the ribcage packed with galaxies.

“Are they all alive?” Dean asks. The warmth from inside leaks out of his collar, wisps away.

“Who?”

Dean points up. “The stars. They always make a big deal about how most of the stars you can see from Earth have been dead for millions of years by the time we get the light from ‘em. That still true here? Or is everything on auto-renewal?”

“That’s a very complicated question,” Cas says, not looking up, only at Dean. He does that a lot, Dean knows, but it turns out to mean something different than what Dean had always assumed, which was ironically pretty similar to what it actually meant, but was reassuringly unactionable and therefore unfuckupable.

“I’m a very complicated guy,” Dean says.

Castiel smiles at that. “I don’t actually know the answer,” he admits. “And it would take an extremely long time to investigate. There are some other things I’d rather do first.”

“What, you can’t just call the kid for directory assistance?”

Castiel lets a good-humored sigh. “Like many young people these days, Jack prefers to avoid the phone.”

This is a solid riff, and Dean respects it. He picks the table closest to the fire and takes a bench and Cas sits next to him, instead of opposite. Dean thought he managed to break him of this habit a few years ago, but here all things are made whole again.

“So what,” Cas says, without a single molecule of playfulness or seduction, “is it that you want us to show each other?”

“Yeah, I was…it was a dumb joke. But I mean it, just not in a ‘playing doctor’ way.”

Castiel frowns, tightens his lips; the firelight throws a fluttering shadow across his face.

“I mean…Christ.” Dean takes a medicinal slug of his dwindling beer. “I don’t really look like this anymore either, right?” And he gestures at his usual shitshow personal presentation, which death has also noticeably failed to refine.

Castiel frowns, smoothes his hand across the surface of the table. “This is a corporeal world, Dean. It operates on a different set of rules, but your body here is no more of an illusion than it was on earth.”

“Seriously?” Dean ponders a second, squints through the dim light at his fingernails, at the high-resolution grime contained therein. “Jesus, that sounds like a lot of work. At least compared to Holodeck Heaven.”

“It is. But we didn’t build this place to be a...a…doorprize. It’s a real world,” Castiel enthuses, looming forward. “It’s the one that should have been created for all of you in the first place.” He pauses, glances down. “For all of us.”

Dean shrugs. “Okay, so no holograms. I’ll keep all that in mind next time Charlie tries to convince me to go skydiving.”

Castiel snorts, but not in pure aggravation, so Dean feels like he’s finally got a point on the board. “What I’m sayin’ is…physical or not, this place has different rules, right? So could I look at you without my eyeballs exploding? The…you know, the angel parts of you. Not just your vessel,” and Dean fwippies his hand at Cas to indicate that true beauty is contained within and Dean is completely indifferent to the fact this dork-ass alien managed to bodysnatch a guy who’s never dipped below an 8.5.

“It isn’t a vessel anymore. We can create our own bodies, now.”

“Peachy,” Dean clips, because that shit is a little late coming off the line.

Castiel sighs. “You could see me in that form without coming to harm. But you should know that I don’t consider it any more a reflection who I am than this form. Not anymore.”

Dean rolls the bottle towards him, nudges a knuckle. “You’re a real boy now, huh?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Castiel says, and smiles a smile so small that Dean would need a microscope to figure out if it’s pleased or pained.

So Dean thwacks the bottle down on the totally-real table and claps his totally-real hands. “Well then let’s go. Hit me with that angel weirdness. If we’re gonna do this, I gotta taste all thirty-one flavors.”

Castiel smiles a little more convincingly, but it still doesn’t reach his eyes. “There are really only the two,” he says, and holds his palms out to the warmth of the fire.

“Great, then we’ll be done in time to catch Letterman. Then if you’re good maybe you can help me shimmy out of this thing.”

Cas cocks his head. “Out of which thing?”

“This super real heavenly meat-suit, dude. It’s not fair if only one of us gets naked. Peep show has to go both ways. I see your angel-face, you see my soul.”

Cas looks stricken, like Dean is asking to suck on his toes next to a playground. “I mean, unless that’d fuck you up,” Dean adds.

“No,” Castiel replies, a little absently. “It wouldn’t fuck me up. But it…wouldn’t really accomplish anything, either.”

“What, no soul kink? That’s bullshit and you know it. You love this crap.”

Castiel replies, “Your soul is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” with the easy confidence of a regular latte order. With the same uncanny, 2 Blessed 2 B Stressed face he had when Dean plowed Ruby’s knife hilt-deep into Jimmy Novak’s sternum, that he had when the Empty collapsed him  like a carcass in an acid bath.

That face shuts Dean right the fuck up, because it sends him skipping backwards into that fucking basement, where his phone is buzzing and the gritty concrete chill of the floor is seeping through his jeans into the useless meat of his legs and leeching into the hot, wet channels of his piece of shit heart.

Turns out you can work up a good little panic attack in heaven, which seems like a significant oversight.

From a million miles away he feels Cas’s warm, dry palm slide over the back of his hand –– there’s a ring there now that Dean lost down a motel sink drain ages ago, is nobody spotting continuity errors here?—then Cas’s hand tightens on his and it feels like a Xanax kicking in. (The good kind, direct from the hot nurse with the little paper cup, not the kind you get in a from a shady burnout at a truckstop, that’s been ground up with baking soda or benadryl and carefully remolded, as if you could possibly give that much of a shit when you’re freaking out bad enough to buy Xanax at a truckstop.)

Point being, he calms the fuck down.

Cas has good hands. They can do a lot of impressive shit, and they look nice doing it. They don’t look like –– they’ve never looked like –– they belong to somebody whose main job is destroying people, places, or things. They’re hands that how to play the cello, or make tables from reclaimed wood, or give soapy, encompassing handjobs in the shower on cold evenings.

“It’s been years, though,” Dean rasps, not looking up yet. “I was a kid when you got me out of Hell, Cas. I’ve done a lot of shit since then. Maybe souls get stretch marks.”

Castiel’s hand tightens on his, clamps it down on the table. “I’ve always been able to see it.”

“Okay,” Dean mumbles, but Cas keeps on going –

“The only time I couldn’t see any part of your soul was when I was without grace, and I promise you that was one of the greatest deprivations imaginable.”

Dean snorts, looks away, but his hand is still on lockdown. “Worse than going hungry, huh?”

“Much.”

“Hey, what about Sam? Or, hell, fucking Donatello. They both were both walking around minus their creamy filling, and you didn’t say boo.”

Cas shrugs. “I can’t see their souls under ordinary circumstances.”

“So what, mine’s just extra loud, or day-glo, or what?”

“It’s both of those things, but that isn’t why,” Cas answers, and the boy is downright wry.

Dean tugs his hand out, raps his knuckles against the wood. “Okay, so stop bein’ coy and tell me before I get a complex. And if you say it’s because of love or some shit, I’m bailing to Rowena’s.”

“You infected me,” Cas says.

“Uh,” says Dean.

The fire pops and a log shifts; Cas glances over at the kerfuffle, absently lifts his fingers to his chin like he’s looking for an old scar. “In Hell, when I retrieved you…I had to grip your raw soul. I was meant to wear a gauntlet, so I wouldn’t be burned.”

Dean snickers. “You’re telling me you were supposed to be wearing a soul condom. What happened, you get too excited and forget to suit up? It’s okay, I know I’m a lot to take in.”

Castiel purses his lips. “No, I was properly armored. But my arm was torn off in combat shortly before I reached you.”

“Ouch.”

“Ouch,” Cas agrees. “I didn’t have time to retrieve the arm or its protection from the pit, so I had to grow a new one very quickly.”

Dean really should’ve switched to whiskey before starting this. “What, you didn’t pack a spare?” He wheezes.

“Ordinarily, yes, I would have had the resources, but I was equipped very lightly for that mission. It was a raid, not a siege. You understand the difference.”

“Sure, yeah, you left your emergency arms in the trunk. So you just popped out a new one. No big.”

“It was a big. Your soul was close enough that it forced me to grow a human arm, instead of a much quicker and more powerful extensor.”

“Okay, uh,” Dean pinches at the bridge of his nose, “there’s a lot to unpack there.”

“What part of it confuses you?”

“I dunno, the bit where apparently angels are I guess heavenly octopuses,”

“The plural in the Greek is octopodes,” Cas interjects, not without pleasure.

Dean glowers. “Or the part where you can apparently swap in different drill bits,” Dean continues,

“Mm,” Cas notes, careful not to open his mouth,

“Or that I, like, accidentally bullied you into growing a person arm,” and Dean pauses for breath here, which Cas evidently takes as permission to dive in with more Planet Earth commentary.

“The natural environment of the human soul is a human body,” he says. “Humans have yet to meet a foreign substrate that they don’t immediately attempt to colonize. My form in Hell was not an exception.” Then he shuts his mouth very deliberately and gestures back to Dean like his mic is going live in three, two.

“Or the bit where my soul gave you some kind of STD?” Dean finishes.

“It was a poor analogy. I apologize.”

“So what’s a better one?”

Castiel drums his fingers for a second, listens to the fire pop in its little cage. “It’s more like…the way a parasitic jewel wasp injects a cockroach with venom, and transforms it into a willing host for wasp larvae.”

“Holy shit are you ever bad at this,” Dean says, with that signature brand of fond horror he special-orders just for Castiel, Angel of the Gourd.

“What I’m trying to avoid saying,” Castiel sighs, “is that you rubbed off on me.”

Dean nods. “Yeah. That’s fair. I wouldn’t be dumb enough to say that around me, either.”  He lays a couple little pats on Cas’s hand. “Lookit you, though, seeing around that corner. I’m proud of you, man. That would’ve totally flipped your breaker back in the day.”

“Just one of the many ways you have reshaped me, Dean,” Cas says, with warm sarcasm.

“Alright, so you rawdogged me, I whammied you. Chocolate, peanut butter, peanut butter, chocolate.”

Cas’s forehead wrinkles in skepticism. “I still prefer the cockroach. But some part of your soul injected itself into one of my more exposed frequencies. Under different circumstances, I would’ve stopped and excised the affected area before it spread, but. I was being pursued, and the mission had taken much longer than any of us anticipated.”

“Us? Thought it was just you down there.”

Cas looks vaguely offended, straightens and folds his arms like he just remembered he’s giving a deposition. “No, of course not. Michael assigned sixty-six angels in eleven groups of six, each escorted to the field by a seraph. We struck simultaneously at six different areas in perdition. From there we dispersed to individual targets –– to cause as much chaos as possible in order to help obscure the object of our mission, and to increase the odds that one of us would actually find you.”

“And you were the lucky winner.” Dean pushes down a touch of sick shame at the thought of it — he’d been coiled up like a snake around somebody else’s torment, anesthetized by it. It was one of the random rags of infernal time where his own pain decreased in proportion to how much he dealt out, and that was the closest thing Hell had to a Friday night.

“I was,” Castiel nods. “I took some liberties with my assignment,” he adds, squinting. “I flattered myself that I shared a special affinity with The Righteous Man.”

“That guy always sounded like kind of a cunt to me,” Dean notes. “You know, not withstanding the fact that I’m him.”

Castiel shrugs. “I found you, and I did what was necessary to save you, and my siblings did what was necessary to save me.” A little falter enters his voice. “Only twelve of us returned from that mission.” Cas looks up, out, away. A dove coos somewhere nearby of the Roadhouse; did it have a run-in with the windshield of an eighteen wheeler one day and show up here, Dean wonders, or does heaven make its own birds from scratch? That’s gotta be a softball compared to whether Betelgeuse is still open for business.

Castiel waits until the bird shuts up, then says, “Of those twelve surviving angels, I personally murdered nine, in everything that followed.”

After a moment Dean says “Yeah,” with practiced neutrality. He’s got some similar tallies, written in Sharpie on the back of his eyelids.

Cas sighs and his attention comes back down to the table. “By the time I received the authority to restore your soul to your body, the infection had spread almost past the point of containment. That’s why I resisted taking a vessel at first. I worried that occupying a human form would speed up the process.”

“Hey now. I thought you showed up naked because you thought I’d be one of those special people,” Dean quips, “Who can handle angel stuff without going all kibbles ’n bits.”

“That was only a partial truth.”

Dean tips the beer bottle in salute. “You’re a real special flavor of asshole, Cas.”

“So I’ve been told. I was right, though. When I took Jimmy as a vessel, I contracted — condensed — myself very severely. The infection had a much shorter distance to travel to reach all of my extremities, and a human form was the most hospitable environment possible.”

“You got a raging case of the Deans.”

Cas’s head kicks back in a laugh that kinda surprises them both. “Yes,” he says, grinning. “I did. I was very displeased, and very concerned I’d be found out and judged unfit for duty. And I very much was. Unfit, that is. Though I was not found out.”

“C’mon, never? You went rogue on the company.”

“Uriel suspected. Naomi certainly detected it later, as did Metatron. But in the moment, no. The Host’s attention was focused on the Apocalypse ahead, not on debriefing a mission that was considered a success. After the Cage was closed, I had too much influence to come under that level of scrutiny.”

“Hmh.” Dean realizes he’s been systematically picking down the label on the beer bottle, so he sets it on the ground before he gets sticky little shreds everywhere. “So I gotta ask. My little souvenir, the handprint. That’s where you grabbed me, with your lil…Mister Potato Head human arm?”

“It is.”

“If I’m the one who infected you, how come I’m the one who got burned?”

“My hand didn’t burn you.”

“Well, it ain’t fingerpaint.”

“Your own soul burned it, as it flowed out of your flesh and into mine. It burned until the moment when I finally released you from my grip. My hand healed itself; your arm did not.” Castiel gives a thin scoff. “I hadn’t planned to leave you interred.”

“Oh, no? Well that’s nice to hear, you know, a decade after the fact. I still have nightmares about that shit.”

Castiel winces. “It’s no excuse, but I was in a great deal of…the equivalent of pain. It took an immense effort to break off the inflow of your soul, and when I did manage it, I was thrown quite a ways by the recoil. By the time I recovered enough to return, you were already looting a gas station,” He finishes, dryly.

“Yeah, well, Dad didn’t think much of leisure as a virtue. Also I was thirsty, because I’d just crawled out of my own grave.”

“And I was distracted, because I’d just fought my way out of the inferno while being digested by a demented human soul.”

“You wanna call it even?”

Cas lifts his brows. “If you don’t mind.”

 There is a long, dark breath, during which their little smiles fade. 

 “So, all that,” Dean says, because he’s a fucking coward.

“All that,” says Cas, because he isn’t.

 Dean clears his throat. “That means you can see my soul-stuff 24/7, huh?”

Castiel slides one leg up onto the bench, shifts to sit astride it, like he’s maybe about to deliver an after-school PSA on the Real Deal About Drugs. “I can always see myself, and extensions of my self. And since your soul made itself into an integral part of me…I can see you.”

“I take it that’s not exactly in the manual.”

“No. I didn’t entirely understand it at first — for a long time, I convinced myself it was because you were designed to be a celestial vessel, and that I had been destined to save you from Hell.”

That thin, acidic feelings starts to rise up in Dean’s chest again. “Do you…” A dry swallow reflex grabs his throat. “Hm. Fuck.”

“What?” Cas asks, scooting forward. An angel. Scooting. What a world. “You can ask me anything, Dean. I hope we’re both past being offended.”

“Have you ever thought that. This whole deal. Our…thing.” Dean lets out a breath. “The way you feel about me. The way I feel about you.”

“Do I worry that its only basis is our shared material?”

Dean licks his lips, works a jaw muscle, forces out a nod. 

Cas frowns, sets one elbow up against the table, then lets his head tip to the side. “Why do you love Sam?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I get it, he’s my brother. We got shared material, too. But we’re not talking genetics.”

“Genes were the initial basis of your love for Sam. But you share half as much material with Adam. Do you love him fifty percent as much as you do Sam?”

“One, love doesn’t work that way and you know it, and two, fucking of course not. I barely know the guy, and what I’ve seen didn’t exactly blow me away.” Not that the poor dumb kid ever really had a chance. “Sam’s Sam, he’s earned it a million times over just by bein’ him.”

“Then you understand.”

“But Cas, man…I…” Dean laughs, which is an abbreviated form of screaming, “I treated you like shit.”

Cas nods. “You did.”

“Okay, the rules say you’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“But the balance remains in your favor. Dean, are you genuinely afraid that you — care for me…”  and Dean can hear the FCC live-bleep in that one, like does his total cowardice have a special color Cas can see with his soul-o-vision? “Only out of some compulsion?”

“No,” Dean says, to the great surprise of his frontal cortex, which was busy kicking the shit out of itself. “No,” he says again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, that that answer actually came out of him and entered the living air between them.

Then the wave is rolling towards him and he enters that slim moment of body-physics where you either take a lungful and commit to diving under the break, or you kick out against the undertow, arch your back to meet the blow, and let yourself be flown all the way up to the waiting shore––

“No,” Dean says, “I love you.” And he chokes up a little, first at the release of saying it, then at how much of exactly jack-shit it changes anything so what was he even scared of, and then at the look on Cas’s face: how he’s frozen. Like that dog from that video, the one that loved tennis balls so goddamn much that his owner bought him a thousand fucking tennis balls and dumps them out all at once and the dog absolutely stalls the fuck out, just seconds on end of underspecced dog-brain hang time before he finally snaps back to reality and loses his absolute shit scrabbling all over the porch.

Castiel comes back online with a little choking noise of his own, and a kind of awkward scrabble for Dean’s hand.

“I have for a long time,” Dean continues, because apparently he’s continuing, “I’ve loved you for fucking ages, Cas. In people years, anyway, I’m sure that mean’s fuckall to somebody who’s a zillion––”

“I don’t,” Cas says thickly, “really give a damn about the age difference, Dean,” and cracks into a chuckle.

“So how come you never knew it?” Dean asks, feeling freedom turn into a hunger or something like vertigo. “If you can see my soul, how could you not know?”

Cas shrugs, a bit helplessly.

“Seriously,” Dean laughs, “how did I manage to hide that shit so well? Sammy found every nudie mag I ever shoplifted.”

Cas shakes his head. “You’ve never actually been able to hide anything from me.”

Dean scoffs. “C’mon, man. I snowed you plenty, or else we woulda had this conversation dirtside a long time ago.”

“Whatever I missed, Dean…it wasn’t because you succeeded at hiding it,” Castiel says, softly. He takes a slow, shaky breath, and meets Dean’s eyes with a smile. He lifts a hand to Dean’s face, bone and flesh on flesh and bone. “I just loved you enough to look away.”

 It’s a long time before they go back inside. By any measure. {AO3}

[thebigqueer]

Solangelo - "Promise?" - One-Shot

Summary: Will and Nico are in Tartarus, and Will's hurt.

TW: slightly graphic description (just cuts); SPOILERS: Tower of Nero

Word Count: 1595

Read on AO3

Heat pulses in the air, boils over Will’s skin, strips him of his stamina. The world is tilting around him, and he can’t find a place to keep himself steady. His knees fall to the ground. He’s helpless, tired, done. He just wants to lie down and never get up again.

Distantly, a desperate voice calls his name, but he can barely comprehend what it’s saying. He’s drifting from consciousness, drifting from reality. Exhaustion pulls at his eyes and he has to fight to keep himself awake. It’s possibly the hardest battle he’s had to deal with, even after going against a countless number of monsters.

The voice is louder now, calling to him, but he’s falling into unconsciousness. The ground rocks his body back and forth, but he doesn’t have the energy to stand up.

And soon he gives himself up to the darkness. He’s done.

~

Ever since Will’s collapse, anxiety and guilt has been eating at Nico’s heart like a parasite. He knows that Will will be alright - Bob and Damasen told him so - but even then, he can’t help the churning in his stomach, the nervousness in his blood. Every time he looks at Will lying in the bed, with his curls plastered to his forehead and gashes all over his body, with his eyes scrunched in pain, a spiked rope pulls at Nico’s heart and makes him lose his breath.

Lucky for both of them, Nico was able to fight off the dracanae just in time for Will to pass out. He tried to call the blond’s name, to keep him awake for just a few more moments, but he was falling too far. Just as the last dracanae fell, so did Will, and for a few very long moments, Nico almost believed he’d lost his boyfriend forever.

Then Bob leaned down and picked him up, checked up on his breathing, and assured Nico that he was alive - just barely.

So together, with Will dangling over the shoulder of the Titan, they ventured further through the boiling depths of Tartarus, down to the small house of Damasen. All the while, Nico’s heart thudded in his chest. He and Will had barely eaten anything, and while Nico didn’t even have the appetite, he knew that if he didn’t get something soon he’d be pretty much useless.

Now, as Will and Nico reside in Damsen’s house and Bob helps the other giant to make food for the boys, the son of Hades finally takes the time to destress. He knows that this relief from the depths of Tartarus will only be short-lived, but he’s grateful to have it anyway.

He just needs the time. He needs. He needs. What does he need? He needs space. He needs to think.

Being back in Tartarus hasn’t been easy on him. But Nico supposes he was expecting that anyway.

There’s a constant buzz underneath his skin, simmering over his muscles, and he just wants to run, run, run from here. Why is he here? Why did he do this? Oh, yes. It was Bob. He needs to save Bob. Bob. Bob. Bob.

Nico’s mind feels on edge, curling in over itself. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to be here.

Taking a deep breath, he steps over to Will’s limp body, taking his pale hand into his own. Heat emanates from his body, and not the comfortable kind - it’s feverish, red, painful. Gazing up at Will’s face, Nico’s breath hitches. Sweat gleams over him in the firelight and a greenish tint has come over his skin. His curls no longer look soft and golden - they look pale and bleached, like he’s been dyeing it over and over. His body has thinned out so much that Nico is almost convinced even a puff of air will blow him away.

Will whimpers in his sleep, begging for mercy from all the new nightmares, all the new fears. He looks so pitiful. Tears prick Nico’s eyes.

The son of Hades runs his hands over the gashes on Will’s body, starting from the bandages on his shoulder and forearm. The blond flinches and hisses, so Nico lets go, afraid of causing him more harm than he needs to. Instead he turns to the slashes against his torso, running his fingers over the ripped fabric of his orange CHB T-shirt. Blood soaks through them, green tinging the edges of the wounds. Nico grimaces.

Nico sighs and rests his head against Will’s shoulder. The heat of his skin spreads into the son of Hades, down to his very core, and his heartbeat quickens even more. He sighs. “I’m sorry, my love,” Nico whispers softly, pulling his fingers into the dampened curls on Will’s head. “I hate seeing you like this. You don’t deserve any of this pain.”

Will doesn’t answer. But as Nico speaks, the crease between his eyebrows lessens its strain, just for a little bit, and a trickle of relief drops into Nico’s body. At least he’s still semi-conscious.

Nico stands and releases his hold on Will. He starts wandering around the little cottage, soaking up the terrifying familiarity of the place. The glow of the fire, the scorching heat, the scent of smoke and meat. His eyes land over Damasen and Bob, and suddenly he remembers why he’s here.

“Bob,” he says, but his voice is scratchy and dry. “Oh, gods, Bob.”

The Titan looks up, fixing his silver eyes on the son of Hades. Seeing him, a wave of emotions flows in Nico’s stomach, catches up to his chest, rises up his throat. He rushes over.

“Bob, listen,” he chokes out. “You have to come back with us. I… I’m sure that you’re the one who’s been calling to me. I’m here to take you out of here. You… you don’t deserve life in Tartarus.” Then Nico fixes his stare to Damsen, who’s watching Nico with pitiful eyes. “You either. You both deserve the outside world. You both deserve to see the sun, breathe fresh air, to… to live.” He staggers forward, forcing urgency into his voice. “You need to. You helped us, and now it’s our turn to help you. Will you come?”

Damasen and Bob turn to each other, carrying a conversation between their eyes. Bob’s mouth curls into a frown.

“Nico,” he says, almost as if tasting how familiar the name is in his mouth. “Tartarus is hard to get out of. Bob isn’t sure… The last two demigods tried and failed. It is not worth bringing Bob up.”

Dread trickles down Nico’s throat. He blinks. “What? But… weren’t you the one sending me the voices?” Confusion pricks his head, threading itself into his thoughts. “Who else could it have been?”

Before either Damasen or Bob can reply, though, a soft moan echoes from somewhere behind. With a start, Nico realizes it’s Will. He jumps and rushes over, anxiety pulling his hard into a chokehold.

“Will!” he exclaims, placing his hand over the blond’s bicep. “Hey, are you awake? Can you hear me?”

Will groans. “Pain,” he mutters. “Help.”

Nico presses his hands to Will’s curls in a hurried attempt to try something to soothe him. “Is there anything you want?” he asks. “Like, something you need?”

“I want… up.”

It takes a moment for Nico to realize he means to sit up. He entangles his right hand with one of Will’s own feverish ones and uses his other arm to guide him into a sitting position. With a lot of struggle and hissing from the blond, the boys manage to get him into a more comfortable position.

As soon as Will’s sitting up, he groans and holds a hand to his head. “Ow.”

Nico bends on his knees and balances his fingers over Will’s jaw, tilting his face just a little. “How are you feeling?”

Will only offers a hum of disagreement, which Nico takes to mean he doesn’t feel good. “Nico, it… hurts.”

“Your cuts?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah, I know. But we put salve on them the moment you got here. It’s much less now than it was then, trust me.”

A look of doubt flashes across Will’s eyebrows but he says nothing more. He only pulls into Nico’s body, looking for some kind of refuge from the cruelty around him. Nico wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders, and for a second Will’s found himself in bliss again, safe from the world around him. He rests his aching head against the son of Hades’ shoulder and sighs. Nico’s own skin feels feverishly warm, but at this point, Will doesn’t care. He just needs to know that he isn’t alone.

“Nico?” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry you had to go through any of this in the first place.”

Nico’s body flinches at his words. Then gentle fingers slide down Will’s back. “It’s okay. At least this time we’re together, right?”

“Nico?”

“Mhm?”

“Don’t let me go here. I promised you we’ll ride or die together, and that’s what I intend. Just… don’t leave me, okay? And I won’t leave you. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“One more promise.”

“What?”

Will raises his head, his glazed eyes trying to catch a hold of Nico’s. “We’re only riding. We’re not dying. Promise me that.”

Guilt flashes against Nico’s face. “Will, I-”

“Even if you can’t promise, at least lie. Make it sound like the truth.” Hot tears scorch Will’s eyes. “Please,” he urges.

Nico nods and pulls Will to him again. “We’re not dying. We’ll make it out of here, my love. I promise you that.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Ppssst how about Yan!Alucard? He’s been betrayed and let down so much that now that a darling has appeared that he really likes he’s desperate to make sure they’re completely unable to betray him?

Considering the events of season three, I thought it’d be fair to give Alucard a bit of a break. The man just needs a single goddamn hug, and if I have to be the writer that’ll give it to him, then so be it.

TW: Emotional Manipulation and Unhealthy Attachments.

~

He knew it was a terrible thing to do.

You’d been nothing short of kind, ever since you turned up on his doorstep. Your companions were suspicious, and often earned a second glance, but you’d been angelic from the start, a traveler who wanted little more than to be able to defend themself from all the darker creatures in the world. When Taka and Sumi betrayed him, you stayed at his side voluntarily, offering him comfort and never muttering a word of distaste as he prepared his ‘cautionary measures’. Through and through, you were kind. That's all there was to it.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew it was out of guilt, out of shame and disgrace and pure pity. He knew that taking advantage of your sympathy was something more fitting of a parasite than a man, and weeks later, the thought of it still made him feel vile. He’d imagined sending you away, telling you to leave or shouting something awful and loud enough to make you do so out of your own volition, but then you’d make a joke or laugh or touch him so gently, and he’d shut his mouth until he managed to convince himself he couldn’t say anything at all.

Even now, he could hardly bring himself to speak. That delicate, fragile smile was painted over your lips, nimble fingers fussing with the bandages that still covered his chest, all of it was just too precious for him to give up. Alucard probably didn’t need your help, his wounds were already mostly scarred-over, but you’d insisted on making sure there was no risk of infection. You were reluctant the first time, doubtful of yourself the second, but now you positioned yourself in his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, having climbed into his bed without so much as a warning to its occupants. 

You were practiced by now, too, able to keep up a conversation while you worked. “I read about a new curse today,” You started, glancing downward, as if you’d be able to see the Belmont Hold through the castle’s floor. “It’s not fatal, but I almost wish it was. The writer seemed to think it’d replace your brain with that of a goat’s, leaving you to stumble around and eat grass until some poor soul puts you out of your misery. He said he learned about it from barn animal who could speak perfect English”

Alucard nodded, absentmindedly beginning to toy with the ends of your hair. “Must’ve been what happened to Trevor.”

“Take that back!” You shoved playfully at his shoulder, chuckling when Alucard pouted and clutched the spot dramatically. His heart skipped a beat at the sound, but you were too preoccupied with rolling your eyes to notice. “When you get rid of the dolls sitting at our kitchen table, I might let you complain about your old partners. I’m not going to believe anything you say until you stop holding debates with them whenever my back is turned.”

“You’ll understand once you’ve seen them… the actual them, I mean, not the dolls.” Alucard pulled at the strand now spun around his finger, regaining your attention. “Why don’t we take another look at the armory, tomorrow? I’ve been meaning to get things in order, and recently, I’ve had the strangest urge to melt down every bit of silver I can find.”

You stiffened as soon as he finished, your palm going still against his chest. Alucard leaned forward, attempting to catch your eye, but you only fixed your gaze on the sheets, determined to focus on anything except the man in front of you. “I… I don’t plan on staying forever, you know.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” He muttered, hoping you wouldn’t sense his resentment. “We still have plenty of time together, don’t we? Another day, at least.”

“Another day, another week, another month... I could spend a century here and still be as helpless as I am right now.” You sighed, taking a turn towards discontent, your stare carrying a new determination when it finally met Alucard’s. A determination he wasn’t used to, not when it came to you. A determination he didn’t like. “I didn’t ask for your help so I could categorize weapons or rebuild castles or…” You trailed off, scanning over him briefly. “Or apply bandages. I came to learn, but it feels like so long since you’ve been willing to teach. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I have a home, a real home, and a family who’s still waiting for me to return. There are still night creatures attacking at random, and I don’t know how long I can sit around playing nurse with a clear conscience.”

Alucard grit his teeth, pulling away from you. It was much easier to dig his nails into the mattress than it was to embed them in your skin. You were here for your family and your home, how could he forget? You’d always been so considerate. “Night creatures who’ll be attacking you the moment you leave these walls. A sword in your hand won’t guarantee your survival.” He scoffed, forcing a laugh, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “Give it time, (Y/n). You’re not ready--”

“Then help me be ready.” You’d never interrupted him before. Not with such a deadly seriousness, anyway. “Isolation isn’t good for either of us. I understand that you're worried, but I need to improve, I need to help people.” You took the hand still resting at your side, intertwining your fingers with his, your features softening. “And I want you to be the one to teach me, Adrian. I couldn’t think of a more capable instructor.”

Neither had Taka. Or Sumi. His father hadn’t been able to ask for a better son, and his mother couldn’t have been more proud of her family.

Clearly, his company had done them nothing but good.

Alucard flinched, violently, throwing himself away from the hand still resting on his chest. He bared his teeth, leaving you to react reflexively, drawing back and falling off of his legs, barely giving yourself a second to recover before rushing to his aide. “I’m sorry, I’ll… I’ll find a balm! I shouldn’t have put any pressure on--”

“I-It’s alright,” He assured, forcing a sense of strain into his voice. Pain wasn’t new to Alucard, nor were the expressions and tones that accompanied it, and you never failed to fret whenever he cringed or scowled in just the right way. You moved to leave, mumbling something about getting herbs from your room, but he only caught your wrist, halting your efforts before they’d truly begun. “Phantom aches, that’s all, it’s nothing to concern yourself with. Just… stay by my side, for now. I know it’s selfish of me, but I’m afraid I’ve grown rather used to having you nearby.”

You nodded, as you always did, and settled into the headboard next to him. There was no hesitation, no excuse, just a never-ending tenderness. That’s all there ever was. Loyalty, and devotion, and tenderness.

It was an awful thing to do. Friends didn’t take advantage of friends, lovers didn’t take advantage of lovers, and decent people didn’t prey on the kindness of others. It was a despicable, rotten, monstrous thing to do.

But, Alucard was already a monster. He was born one, and regardless of how far he tried to distance himself from the blood in his veins, he’d be one until the day he died.

He might as well begin to act like it.

[wtfgaylittlezooid]

I’ve lost to temptation so here it is

My interpretation of magolor lets fucking go

So first section: How this bitch works

So Magolor is from Halcandria, a planet who’s core is essentially magic. There’s so much magic on this single planet that it leaked into the life and even some objects that could contain it. Magolor is no exception. Magic energy is essentially stored in a second heart (tho it’s more of a container than a heart), and runs through the body very similar to blood. It’s created and flows through his body, and allows for things like his eye glow, floating, and obviously powers. When he’s asleep, it regenerates. If there’s already enough magic energy while he’s asleep, it disposes of the old magic mostly by floating in sleep or by more severe means like insomnia aka magical overdose (which I’ve gone over before).

Next, is the glowing eyes!! Why he have that, I’ll tell ya. It makes it easier to detect other halcandrians as well as make it easier to detect light such as fire. Which is very useful when you need to look through ashy clouds and make sure a giant rock isn’t about to slam into you from above. It’s also a way to show the health of a halcandrian. Though the eyes glow yellow, they have a brown color very similar to their fur. If they’re sick or very unhealthy, they lose their glow and it slowly reverts to the brown color.

As a side effect of the master crown though, Magolor’s magic energy got boosted by the crown so he didn’t just die instantly by overwhelming power. It sounds like a good thing on paper, having so much energy to the point where he can fight non stop without getting tired magically, but magic overdose due to him not being able to deplete enough of it fast enough is a bitch. He gets sick a lot easier, bad insomnia, as well as occasionally using magic without realizing. So this clears out how he works and shit!! Now onto...

Before RTDL

So before RTDL Magolor had little social skills or experience with interacting with other people that wasnt lying to them to get them to do stuff. It was just how Halcandria worked. People kept to themselves and if you needed help you’d have to twist the truth in order to convince them. Relationships of any kind are very rare in Halcandria as well.

So when he met Marx, it was weird. He originally planned to let him stay until he got better and told him about why he was found in a Nova’s wreckage, so he could hopefully get Marx to lead him to something else he could use to defeat Landia. It didn’t go as planned. Marx was an unpredictable dude who immeadiatly fell for Magolor (but mags didn’t notice cause he’s never experienced someone else crushing or a crush) and due to that Marx spent a lot of time with Magolor during recovery and grew on him. He also ended up showing Magolor what friendship was, and honestly: magolor liked it. He liked having someone around. It was a nice change, and it was nice to have someone around to help (and rarely give him affection). So, Magolor wanted Marx to rule the universe with him once he killed Landia. He didn’t want Marx to leave. Though things started going downhill when an accident happened one time while exploring and Magolor was distracted, leaving to Marx having to use Nova’s power to make sure Magolor was safe.

And Magolor was fascinated, and god he was excited. He pried Marx for questions about his wings, constantly stared at them when they were out, and started talking about if he and Marx used their combined powers they could finally kill Landia and get what they want. But Marx didn’t want to. His want for power by then left, and he knew the consequences. He was happy just hanging out with Mags, and didn’t want to risk his life fighting a dragon with a crown of infinite power. But Magolor, despite liking the change of company, was used to being a loner and believed he could do it again since he’s halcandrian. He said Marx could leave if he didn’t want to, and that was when Marx started to see just how desperate Magolor was for the Master Crown. It was all too similar to his own desperation with Nova, and all words were useless and failed to change Magolor’s mind. So Marx left, and Magolor continued. He felt a little bad (and lonely) but pushed it down and decided no turning back and opted to modifying the Starcutter more like a weapon and attacking Landia that way, but failing.

Though he had a backup plan, thanks to Marx. Which brings me to..

The Betrayal

So this is RTDL time, before the betrayal. His back up plan was going to the pink hero Marx ranted about and using them to get the crown. After all, if they could defeat someone with the gift of Nova’s power, they could defeat a wyvern with a crown. They landed, and Magolor met everyone, but he couldn’t stop thinking about a certain someone. Chilly, who volunteered to stay with him while the others collected the spheres and parts (tho it was because he was suspicious). Mags didn’t know this, and assumed he was being nice. So the second person who (he thought) was being friendly with him enough to stay with him, and fill that hole Marx accdientally left by leaving him. He couldn’t not get attatched. He became REALLY REALLY clingy, and did as much as he could to keep himself focused as well as make sure they were friends. It backfired, making Chilly agitated most of the time, but it also semi worked later on. Most of his time between the betrayal and his crash landing was spent monitoring everyone’s progress, and trying to get Chilly to like him so he could do what he had to do during the betrayal.

Now during the betrayal! The closer he got to achieving the crown again, the more desperate and ooc he got. By the time he was at Halcandria, there’d be no way to talk him out of it, since he was THIS close. But there was still one thing wrong that he assumed the crown would fix: he couldn’t go back to being alone. He assumed he would adjust, since that’s how it’s been for his whole life. But now, that he’s actually had two people really close to him (and one leave) that showed him affection and didn’t only use him like in Halcandria, he didn’t want to go back to being alone. He couldn’t. But he came too far to turn back, and continued anyway (not like he ever changed his mind, but he did have moments of doubt). He told Chilly to stay in the Starcutter, wanting to keep him safe, which obviously didn’t go well for him when Chilly responded with freezing the ship from the inside to stop Magolor from using it in its attacks.

And of course, when Magolor sees this, he has a moment of “oh shit I can’t let him do this. I can’t lose someone else.” And tries to convince Chilly to join him. He talks about the two of them ruling and even giving Chilly Popstar to rule. He means it. He wants someone with him, somebody that he genuinely loves and treats him like a friend. He assumed that if he didn’t force Chilly into working with him like Marx, he would join in the end. And like any person with common sense, Chilly denies, loyal to Kirby and Popstar. THIS was the moment Magolor became truly desperate, he tries to convince Chilly to join him but he can barely get any words other than “but you were only friend” out while crying (in the middle of battle lol). Kirby and everyone take this chance to attack, while Magolor is just kind of broken. He fucked up again.

And he’ll be alone.

He has one thing left now, and that’s the power to rule the universe.

And he’s desperate to have this one thing go right for him, and he uses the remaining power of the Master Crown... which brings me to the next topic!

The Master Crown

Full section for the master crown let’s go. It gets its dark power from a leader/creator of dark matter (think 0), and is sentient. It only knows to shroud the world in darkness, and will do whatever it takes to get it. It’s powers are held at bay by Landia, who is Halcandria’s guardian and can resist its powers due to being a magic guardian. Magolor however, isn’t a magic guardian, and can’t resist. To him, it’s a shiny piece of jewelry that’ll make him strong so things can finally go his way.

The way it works is by drawing people in, like a venus fly trap. It just amplify people’s interest in it, as well as bring out the more negative traits about them that makes them easier to control. The most common traits is desperation, impulsiveness, frustration, and determination. And once the crown is on their head, it locks on and is irremovable and works like a parasite, basically completely erasing whoever put it on and molding them to the perfect puppet. Magolor essentially just sped up the process completely by using the last of its power in a desperate attempt to get what he wanted.

After the Betrayal

Magolor, after the betrayal, is left just floating around Another Dimension. He’s exhausted, in a lot of pain, and completely magically drained. He couldn’t even float if he tried, and that uses the bare minimum of magic. He’s stuck here for a long time, and at first, he’s extremely frustrated and upset. He spends a lot of time replaying the events in his head (not magolor soul, he has no memories of that aside from snippets that come into his dreams that are partially due to the master crown’s lasting effect) and just getting more and more angry at everything. He was so close to having control over EVERYTHING, and he lost it over himself the second he used the rest of the power. He was infuriated that he manged to let that stupid puffball beat him, along with their friends.

He cries, screams, shouts, but it doesn’t matter. Rage can only last so long, and it’s not much before he’s just exhausted and tired. He’s given up on escaping, knowing he can’t. He cant form a dimensional portal strong enough to pull him out of a dimension. He only has the skill to use it for teleportation. After a few days, he’s accepted what happened, that this is his fate. He hates being alone, floating in space with no silly jester to crack a joke or scratch his head, and no snowman who’s bell jingled with an adorable tune whenever he laughed and even gave him hugs. He ends up getting habits of scratching his head (despite the pain because of master crown injuries) and hugging himself as a way to fill that hole the two left when leaving. He misses them, and starts to regret going after the crown in the first place. He comes up with scenarios in his head to pass the time as he basically waits for himself to rot. He imagines apologizing and having his friends back. He imagines Marx somehow finding him similar to how Magolor found him. He imagines not being alone, and being happy. Not plagued by agonizing exhaustion and self fury. He even comes to miss Kirby and their friend one he actually realizes the kindness they showed him, since he was too focused before to realize.

He spends a few days in the hell dimension before he finds something. He ends up finding an energy sphere that floats past that was lost during the battle. He grabs and clings to it, now having only one thing from before. It doesn’t make the loneliness any better, but it does make things a little less bareable. But of course, energy spheres are a sphere doomer’s favorite snack, and it doesn’t take long before one comes along really wanting it.

Magolor at first, pushes it away desperate to keep this one thing he had before, and the sphere doomer keeps coming back desperately wanting its food. Eventually, Magolor and the sphere doomer form a slight bond since this was when Magolor started slowly regaining magic again and tries attacking it with his revolution orbs, but it’s just a treat for the sphere doomer. The sphere doomer keeps coming back for more treats and another attempt at a snack, and Magolor feels a little less lonely. Over time, he actually gains enough of its trust to pet it and even talks to it. He names her Lor II.

Lor II is the reason he gets out of Another Dimension and back to Halcandria, via opening a rift. Lor II basically gives Magolor a second chance to make things right, and he immeadiatly takes it. Of course, he has to steal the Starcutter to do it, but he makes his way to Popstar to apologize, because he REALLY regrets his major fuck up and at the very least, he can make things better (and maybe get a chance at being less lonely).

So that’s all I got lmao hope you enjoyed

[sunshine-shitposts]

A day late, but here's the final part!

(Part 1) (Part 2)

(Tw: more mentions of past spousal abuse)

Dust in the Wind—Part 3

As Catherine and Jotaro exited through the sliding doors, Sunnie paused, heaved a heavy sigh, and walked back into the suite to see Dio lounging on the sofa, swirling a glass of red in his hand. He had dimmed the lights to his preference, the various candles lit around the room casting a warm, flickering glow.

Sunnie, however, seemed drained. Even with the small little flames dancing around her, her eyes were devoid of light, and her lips had settled into a somewhat grim line. Her shoulders had sunk down and she huffed as she moved back into their shared living room.

"That went better than expected," Dio purred, low and playful, "The Jotaro where I'm from is far more terrifying."

"I wouldn't know," she said simply, sinking back onto the deep seated sectional before grabbing her Switch out of her backpack.

"I must say, you did exceptionally well," he licked his lips and watched her, golden eyes glowing strangely in the low light and independently of the flickering candles, "Catherine was right to suggest demonstrating the difference between me and the Dio from here using your…" his eyes grazed over her covered arms and legs, "…situation. But you were a true natural, I must say," he said, lips sliding into a delighted smile, "I'm tempted to wonder if it was, in fact, an act."

"I don't half-ass things," she grunted as she curled up, focusing on the light of the screen in the now darker room and not his piercingly calculating glare.

"I know, my sweet," came a breathy reply as he set his glass down on the side table and slid up next to her, speaking directly into her ear as a large hand reached around to play with her hair, "I know full well that you don't 'half-ass' anything, but I can smell your feelings. Humans are entirely too easy to read." His nose then crinkled. "I also smell that Joestar boy on you, perhaps… too much."

"I actually found him in Dallas and drove him here. He was lost, so I offered him a ride." Her nose twitched, smelling velvety iron on his breath. It was blood tonight, rather than wine. Of course.

"Ah," his response was short. She could tell he still didn't like the idea, didn't like Jotaro Kujo himself. "You're a bit more prickly than normal today, my Sunlight. Did something happen, perhaps?"

"Just some bullshit with him," she growled, sinking further into the plush sofa, his eyes following her movements closely. "He's threatening to tell people about, well, my powers. I know that he wouldn't because it'd probably just make him look crazy, but it's like, the principle of the thing, right? He's just making threats that he'll never follow through with again. He always fucking does this. And he made it clear that if he finds out I'm working with other men, he'll do everything he can to make this divorce as difficult as possible."

Dio scoffed. "I don't know how he thinks he can control that."

"I mean… he can't, really. But he's vindictive."

"Imagine if he found out you were living part-time with another man," he chuckled, and his vision was sharp enough to catch the barely-there upwards twitch of the corners of her mouth.

"He'd lose his fucking mind," she said softly.

There was a short silence, Sunnie playing on her Switch and Dio watching her carefully.

"...You're afraid of him," he said after a while.

She didn't respond.

"You know you don't have to fear him. He is weak, pathetic. A worm, a parasite–"

Sunnie huffed sharply, hands gripping the Switch tightly in her hands. "Listen, Dio, I know. I know I'm stronger than him, I know he's–that he's shit, but…" Her shoulders let loose tension she didn't realize they had. "It's…"

She failed to finish her sentence, her gaze distant and unfocused, and didn't react to a long finger tucking a loose, wispy strand of dark purple hair behind her ear.

"From what you've told me, that man tried to clip your wings for so long. Tried to convince you that you couldn't fly, tried to keep you grounded," he murmured, tilting her chin up and towards him so he could capture her cold eyes with his own, "I can't wait to see you soar, little bird. Because I know you will. You will make an utter fool out of him."

Sunnie inhaled softly, a faint blush dusting her cheeks, but cut her response short, hardening her gaze again.

"That's some sweet lip service, coming from a manipulative bastard like you," she muttered, causing him to laugh.

"Your assessment of me is not incorrect, but I am not without my sincerities," he said as he pulled away, leaning back against the plush arm of the sofa. "Perhaps I, too, wasn't putting on an act as much as you think I was."

"Bullshit," she laughed bitterly, "I think I have a pretty good idea of what kind of person you are."

"Hm." He watched her go back to her game, eyes narrowing in thought. "My father was abusive, you know."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Not George Joestar, mind you–but the man before that. He took so much out on my mother that it outright killed her. She tried to protect me of course, but with her gone it was just beatings, verbal abuse, thrown bottles, the works. Believe you me, I am not entirely unfamiliar with your situation. We had different circumstances, different reactions, yes, but there are similarities to what we went through."

"You killed him, didn't you?" Her gaze had thawed, somewhat, and she was curious. Dio laughed again.

"Of course I did. Slowly, patiently. It was a poison, one I knew wouldn't be tracked. We were poor, my father was an alcoholic, no one looked twice! It was incredibly easy." He rolled his head back, stretching it out slightly, and Sunnie saw glimpses of the wicked scar around his neck peek out from his high-necked top. "Alas, I am aware there are procedures now. Autopsies and the like. Makes things more difficult for people who want to get things done."

"Theeere you go," she rolled her eyes, "Another reminder of exactly what you are."

He hummed in agreement and they sat in silence for a while, Sunnie turning back to her game and Dio reading while sipping from his glass. After a while, she shifted.

"...How old were you?" she asked, voice soft.

"Hm?"

"When you killed your dad. How old?"

"Twelve," came his simple answer. His gaze slid over to her to find her staring not at, but seemingly through the screen, her nose slightly scrunched in thought.

"...I'm sorry that happened to you," she said, not sparing a glance at the monster next to her. "No one deserves to go through that."

"No one?" He prodded, grinning like a snake.

"No one, not even you," she affirmed.

"Your own sentiment extends to you as well, my dear," he said, setting the finally-empty glass down on the side table and moving to her side, reaching his muscled arm over the back of the sofa and around her, "No matter what he made you believe, the fact still stands: you didn't deserve it." Sunnie felt a wave of anger—how dare he assume—and she whipped in his direction and opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a finger to her lips to stop her. "Ah-ah. I can tell you were being honest in front of the Joestar boy. You were not acting. Don't try to lie, not to me." Her brows were still furrowed, eyes still fiery, but she closed her mouth. "Don't try to weasel out of giving yourself the same kindness you afford others. Start small if you must, but you'd better start, or I'm going to get very, very annoying about it," he finished with a positively wicked grin, and she threw her arms up in defeat.

"Jesus fucking Christ, I get your point!!! Fine!!!" She huffed, "The last thing I want you to do is get more annoying than you already are." She was unsure if his grin could possibly be any more smug than it was at that very moment, and the victorious twinkle in his eyes began to fluster her, so she pulled away from him, standing and walking briskly away. "I'm gonna go get a drink."

"Would you like for me to make you one?" Dio asked, his innocent tone not at all matching his expression.

"Fuck no and fuck you, I'm not having a repeat of the blood wine like last time, you little shit," she spat, but there was no chance she could disguise the grin in her voice.

"I'm more than a foot taller than you, darling!" He called after her, picking a different book up off of the coffee table.

"Would you like to be a Big Shit? Is that better??"

"I suppose not," he laughed softly.

There was a strangely comfortable silence between them, various clinking and pouring noises coming from the bar before Sunnie went off to her room while Dio quietly ran his eyes across the pages in front of him. Sunnie returned, hair up in a messy bun and sporting a large, loose NASA shirt that draped off her frame and almost completely covered her shorts. Her legs were dappled with various fading bruises, a particularly cruel-looking one on her upper right thigh. Dio cast a glance at the glass in her hand and raised a brow.

"That smells like quite a bit of alcohol," he noted, turning a page with his clawed finger.

"Don't keep me from having my fun. It's a Friday night and my husband is making my life hell," she responded, sitting back down and taking a couple deep gulps of her drink.

"Oh I wouldn't dream of it, dear. I'm merely observing."

She stared at him for a second and sighed. "Sorry. I got defensive." She took another sip. "He just… he never lets me make decisions like this. Staying up late, getting my own drinks, choosing what I eat, stuff like that."

"He's controlling. I'm aware," he said lightly, looking at her again, "And I enjoy seeing you explore your newfound freedom from him. Do things you never thought you could before. In fact, Catherine has informed me that you've begun to truly test your Stand's abilities."

Sunnie looked at him, eyes owlishly wide. "D… did she say anything?"

"That she's quite impressed. You're creative and have incredible potential." He grinned as she flushed. "I would be honored to bear witness to your strength sometime."

There was a nearly child-like glimmer in her eyes, and a smile on her face that he hadn't quite seen before. It was wide, with a little tremble dancing on the corner of her lips. Her cheeks were rosy with excitement. If she were a little puppy, there was no doubt that her tail would be wagging happily.

"Oh? Such a small bit of praise, and you're glowing. How precious," he laughed softly, eyes narrowing in delight at the display, "I'll be sure to keep this in mind for the future."

She immediately looked away, turning her Switch back on, "Ah—w-well. It's just, I've never really been able to share Windy with other people. This is… this is cool."

But her blush was unmistakable.

They sat in silence for a while, Sunnie playing her game and Dio reading, before he heard her clear her throat.

"So, I have a question," she began, and though the way she said it made it sound conversational, Dio had a feeling that the topic she was about to bring up was not a throwaway one. "You know I read that file on this dimension's Dio, right? They found bodies in that Cairo mansion. Lots of them, all exsanguinated. And I was wondering…" She looked at him, green eyes flickering in the light of the candles, expression unreadable, "How many people have you killed?"

"Far, far more than I could ever count, my dear," he answered plainly, leaning against the back of the sofa, his smile soft, "I evaded the grasp of the Joestars for years, but I won't lie and claim that our battles were easy. Every time I managed to escape, I needed to restore myself. And to do that…"

"You needed blood," Sunnie finished, voice quiet. Dio hummed in confirmation.

"Does this bother you?" he asked, tone nearly teasing.

"I'm not the type to hate a predator for doing what it has to in order to survive, Dio," she said, eyes rolling, "You should have figured that out about me by now."

"Then does it frighten you, perhaps? Knowing that you share quarters with a bloodthirsty monster such as myself?" He inched closer to her, the soft smile turning into something far more sinister as his gaze slid down to her neck, "If I'm to be honest, that day when I first smelled your blood, that day when we found out what your husband had done to you…" He reached up and drew a line down the side of her neck with a sharp talon, chuckling as he felt her pulse hitch minutely, but otherwise stay steady, "You smell delicious, you know. And you were so vulnerable, so small… it would have been so easy for me to take."

Her eyes refused to leave his as his hand dropped back down, and he was mildly surprised when a dark smirk played at her lips.

"My favorite creatures," she responded matter-of-factly, "just so happen to be the dangerous ones."

And he threw his head back and belly-laughed, all the tension between them dissipating.

"Hey!! What's so funny??" She shouted over his jovial cackling, "I'm serious!! I'm being completely serious!!"

"It's not that I don't believe you, Sunshine! Because I do, I truly do," he answered, looking at her once more, "I just find it hard to believe my own fortune at times; that we found each other."

She tossed a pillow directly at his face.

A couple of hours later, she shut the door to her room and felt silence overtake her.

The room at the Speedwagon Foundation was a bigger room than she'd ever had, but it was quite empty. She figured that it made sense that it was sparsely decorated after only a couple of months working for them, but it still felt kind of lonely.

She hadn't asked for much. A low queen size bed that she had pushed against a corner, covered in fluffy, soft blankets and a decent amount of pillows, and a bedside table with decent storage space. There was a drawer for her clothes and a good ceiling fan—she hated stagnant air. The connected bathroom was also spacious, with a surprisingly large and wide alcove tub, larger than the bathtub she'd had at her first apartment with… 

She looked down at her feet, saw the bruises littering her legs. Raised her palms up towards her gaze, traced the violence with her eyes.

Her first apartment had been with her husband, hadn't it.

Moving out was going to be difficult. The first time she'd gone back to pack some of her things, there was a moment during which both her parents were carrying boxes to her mom's car, and she was left alone in there with him, and all he'd done was lean against the wall, arms crossed, and pin her with the most loathsome stare she had ever seen from him. Those brown eyes she treasured were filled with nothing but seething hate, and the dimples in his cheeks peeked out not because of a warm smile but because of a firmly disgusted grimace. She'd tried to pay it no mind and kept packing her books but she'd nearly shattered under the weight of the feeling, her chest nearly heaving with the effort to breathe, the frigid coldness of panic beginning to seep in.

Dio was right. Her own husband terrified her.

She'd worn long sleeves and jeans despite the summer heat that day, keeping the bruises and cuts hidden from everyone. She didn't want to… didn't want him to see it? He knew what he'd done, he probably guessed that her body bore at least some marks from the fight they'd had the morning of that big fight. So why did she cover up? Maybe she didn't want him to get some sick sort of power trip. Maybe he reveled in the thought of being able to control someone who had supernatural powers, who had the ability to control wind itself through nothing but fear and her loyalty to him. Loyalty that, that fateful day, had finally snapped.

Her hands dropped to her sides and she looked at herself in her full length mirror.

Spotted all over in a horrible way. Dark circles under her eyes. Drawn brows. And a particular lifelessness that was rare in her.

Pathetic.

"How much does a person have to go through?" Sunnie asked no one in particular. She lifted her loose shirt, eyeing the long bruise on her side and clicking her tongue against her teeth. "You gotta go back, you know. There's more boxes for you. More of your life to reclaim."

Her voice, her eyes, were hollow. Tired.

"…You gotta face him again."

So, so tired.

Suddenly, her skin itched. She felt starved, like she wanted to reach out and grab for something she couldn't name. Her chest shuddered, and she choked on a sob.

Fuck.

She doubled over as the first tears slid down her cheeks, warm and wet and awful.

She'd been so insistent on keeping the pain hidden for so long. She knew she was stubborn—she was like an injured cat at times, in that she never let anyone know when she was hurting. It made moving through life easier. She hated to worry her loved ones and, more importantly, hated feeling weak.

But god, did it hurt. Like a vice crushing her chest, like she was drowning, like she'd never ever recover. She knew she had to get through this, but wondered if she'd be crushed by the weight of it all in the process. She felt it bubble out of her, despite her insistence that no, I have to keep this inside, I want to keep this inside, but her efforts were useless.

She didn't realize that she'd fallen to her knees until her hand shot out to brace against the ground. More tears came and fell to the hardwood floor and fuck she was desperate to stop them. She hated feeling things, she hated feeling this…

In her sharp peripheral vision she caught the quickest glimmer of gold, which disappeared the second she tried to look at it.

...He saw.

Goddammit, he saw.

Her body trembled, the concept of being known at such a vulnerable time in her life making a flash of freezing terror rip through her. Desperate to calm herself down, she forced herself to think, to just think for just a moment.

There it was again, glimmering warm and bright in her chest. That tug in her body, that cry for something, for anything, for… 

...Oh.

Dio was still lounging on the large sofa when Sunnie emerged from her bedroom, her comforter wrapped around her and her pillow in tow. The head of her worn-out stuffed bear peeked out from her arms as well, its one-eyed state making it look like it was winking. Sunnie's eyes were red and puffy, but her expression was blank. She and Dio stared at each other for a minute or so before he spoke.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, his smile sly but knowing.

"Cut the shit, I know he saw me crying," she responded, voice clipped as she referred to his Stand.

"He did," he hummed, thinking for a moment before elaborating, "That is to say, I did."

Another silence.

"I…" she gulped, shuffling her feet on the hardwood, "I don't want to be alone right now. …I can't."

He nodded. "That's understandable."

"Do… do you mind if…" Her gaze fell to the ground for a second before looking back up at him, "…Maybe…?"

There was something strangely soft in his eyes as he patted the space on the sofa next to him. She paused, then shuffled towards him and past the coffee table. She put the pillow down right next to him then crawled onto the cushions, laying down on her side, nuzzling her head into the pillow as per her habit. Dio turned back to his book, eyes skimming the words until he heard her voice, soft and unsure.

"You were right. I'm afraid of him. And I have been for… years."

He glanced at her, but she didn't elaborate. Sunnie just snuggled into her fluffy comforter some more, brows furrowed, before she looked back up at him.

"Dio? I… I wouldn't mind, y'know. If you, uh…"

A small hand peeked out from the comforter and patted her face in an attempt to ask without words.

He chuckled and reached his hand down, placing it, large and nearly overwhelming, on her head, ruffling her mussed up hair softly. She couldn't help the sigh and shiver that ran through her as he trailed the hand to her round cheek, delicately stroking the skin there.

She closed her eyes, curling her knees close to her chest and getting comfortable, letting out a quiet hum when she felt a sharp nail tuck some hair behind her ear before going back to dragging softly down her face.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"It's nothing, my dear."

"Not to me it isn't," she insisted, and he raised a brow, looking back down to her face as it sank into the plush pillow, "I mean, I know you're a bastard and all but… it means a lot."

"...I understand," he said, voice low and soft as he settled his long fingers across her neck and chin, his thumb trailing across the apple of her cheek.

They remained quiet for the rest of the night, and Sunnie eventually fell asleep to the feeling of his cool hand cradling her head and softly carding through her hair.

For the first time in a very long while, she didn't have nightmares.

[thelawsofdaylight]

the campaign that ends at last

A/N: This fic was inspired by a DnD session I had with some friends (although DM!Combeferre is very much inspired by this art by @deboracabral) it’s light-hearted and silly and I had a lot of fun.

CW: death (in the context of DnD)

Enjolras is in danger. 

Combeferre can see this clearly; whether Enjolras realises or not he can’t be sure, though from the set expression on his face and the way he holds himself ready, it’s possible he suspects that something is wrong. Their assailants haven’t been persuaded by his attempts at diplomacy. For all of his charm, Enjolras has failed to make allies out of the men who now face him down in a dark alleyway. 

He is already bloodied from their last fight- almost all of them are. They’re all hurt, some of them worse off than others and almost all of them will require medical attention of some kind. Enjolras stands at the front of their group, facing down the three assailants with an unflinching air.

Beside him, Courfeyrac fidgets. Joly, standing off to the side, looks apprehensive. Jehan is examining their surroundings thoughtfully whilst Bahorel cracks his knuckles. Bossuet and Feuilly stand at the back, wary. The only one of them who remains unaffected is Grantaire, who simply shrugs when Combeferre catches his eye. He’d warned them, after all, but no one had listened. 

Their path forwards is blocked and behind them, the city burns.

Suddenly, one of the assailants moves to attack. The man’s fist rises, moving, as if in slow motion, towards Enjolras’ face. The world seems to stop just before it makes contact. 

“Enjolras,” says Combeferre steadily. “Make a dexterity saving throw.”

Enjolras groans, but does as instructed. He shakes his dice in his hand a few times before letting it fall. Combeferre peers over at the number and adds Enjolras’ modifier (which is high, because somehow all of Enjolras’ stats are high.) Eighteen. 

“You manage to dodge at the last second; the assailant’s punch misses. Now, everyone roll for initiative.”

They do so; Combeferre calculates the order in his head before nodding to Joly, who is the first to move. 

“I use my movement to move a safe distance away from the assailants. I use my action to turn invisible and my bonus action to cast healing word on Enjolras,” Joly says. Enjolras flashes him a grateful smile as Combeferre nods.

“Make a roll.”

Joly does so. Enjolras regains fifteen health. 

“Cool, okay. That’s convenient, since Enjolras, it’s your go now; what do you want to do?”

“I’m going to make an armed attack with my bayonet.”

“Alright,” says Combeferre. “Roll to see if it hits.”

Enjolras does so; with his proficiency bonus in armed attacks, Combeferre’s not surprised when it ends up hitting. He’s even less surprised when it ends up doing a high amount of damage. “The first assailant is bloodied,” he reports. 

Bahorel cheers. 

“Alright. Grantaire, your go.”

“I cast vicious mockery!”

The party groans. “Of course you do,” says Courfeyrac whilst Jehan mutters something under his breath in- Greek? Combeferre can’t be sure.

���Okay,” says Combeferre. He tries to suppress a grin before he continues; sometimes his friends are endearingly predictable. “And what do you say?”

“I declare that these so called assailants are fools for having dared to cross our party, for we are greater fools, and, more importantly, we are fools who have just defeated a tyrant on the seat of the throne. I tell them that  they would be offended at my brazen insults if only they could understand what I was saying, but alas, their brains are too small and their fists too ready. They don’t understand how insulted they should be because they can’t understand the complexities of this thing we call life; that is, indeed, if there’s anything to understand in the first place.”

“Okay,” says Combeferre again as Courfeyrac murmurs ‘same side or not I will knock you out on my turn, I swear to God.’ He makes a wisdom saving throw for the assailant. It passes.

“Sorry Grantaire,” Combeferre apologises. “No effect.”

Grantaire shrugs and leans back in his seat, smiling. “Worth it.”

“It really wasn’t,” says Courfeyrac.

“Courf!” Combeferre says. “Your go!” 

“I stick my chest out and say ‘your king was a parasite and so are you, it’s only fitting that you’ll follow in his path’ and then I cast firebolt.”

Combeferre smiles. “Okay. The assailants look alarmed at your words but they hold strong. Roll to hit.”

Courfeyrac’s throws are always the most theatrical, even more so than Jehan, who mutters various blessings in languages Combeferre won’t even pretend to know before rolling. Courfeyrac has constructed what appears to be an entire one-man dance routine before he lets his dice fall. 

“It hits,” Combeferre says, looking at the fifteen on the dice. Courfeyrac cheers, already rolling for damage. Combeferre whistles when the dice settle. “You do twenty three damage; the first assailant falls to the floor, dead. His companions look on in shock but you see them grasp their weapons tighter. Which brings us to... Bahorel.”

“Fuck yeah,” says Bahorel. “Right. I’m going to use my movement so that I’m standing right next to the second guy and then use my action and my bonus action to make four unarmed attacks, and then I’m going to use second wind to heal myself.” Bahorel narrates as he speaks; sweeping gestures with his arms that make Combeferre worry for the safety of his DM setup. 

“Okay,” he says, shuffling the cardboard just out of reach. “Roll to hit and then roll for damage.”

Three of Bahorel’s hits land; one misses. He deals twenty one damage to the second assailant. 

“The second assailant is bloodied,” Combeferre says, prompting another cheer. “The third looks uneasy, but stands his ground.”

It’s the assailants go next so Combeferre rolls to make an armed attack against the closest person to him- which happens to be Bahorel. 

“Bahorel, what’s your armour class?”

“Fifteen.”

“Oof,” says Combeferre. “You take ten damage.”

“Aw, c’mon!” 

Combeferre shrugs his shoulders and hides his grin. “Jehan? Your go.” 

Jehan smiles. “I’m going to cast phantasmal force on the second assailant.” 

Combeferre nods, intrigued as to where this is going. Although, this is Jehan, so he has an idea. “Sure, you can do that. I’ll make an intelligence saving throw for the assailant.” 

He does. Twelve. A fail, but just barely. “The illusion is weak, but it works. Do you want to describe what the second assailant sees?”

“Yes please,” says Jehan, grinning. “The second assailant sees a ghost-like figure rise from the body of his deceased friend. The ghost isn’t completely transparent but opaque, and it hovers a few metres off of the ground. It matches the appearance of the dead assailant almost exactly, but maintains the wounds from when he died and there’s something... off, about him. The ghost hovers near the second assailant and whispers to him, but the words are all in a language he can’t understand.”

“Nice,” Bahorel mutters. Jehan beams at him.

“Do they do anything else? You still have a bonus action if you want to do damage.”

“Nope, that was my only thing.” Jehan says. “It just freaks him out, is all.”

“Okay, he’ll roll with disadvantage from now on.”

Jehan nods, satisfied. 

“Feuilly, you’re up.”

Feuilly startles when Combeferre addresses him, blinking back into his surroundings as if he hadn’t been fully paying attention. “Okay,” says Feuilly carefully. “Uh, I’m far away, right? Can I make a ranged attack with my bow?”

“Sure,” says Combeferre. “You’re at the back so a range attack is a good choice. Roll to see if it hits. You want a D20.”

Feuilly nods, locating the correct dice and rolling it. “Eleven,” he reports.

“Plus your modifier, which makes it fourteen, which-” Combeferre checks his stats “-hits. Roll for damage? D6 plus your strength modifier.” 

Feuilly does so. “Seven.”

“Okay, the second assailant isn’t bloodied yet, but you can tell he’s feeling weaker. Bossuet?”

“Ready.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I’m going to cast Eldritch Blast.”

Another groan from the party. Combeferre bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “Go on then.”

Bossuet extends his arm out to Joly, who presses a kiss against his knuckles. “Thanks babe,” Bossuet says. He rolls. 

It’s a critical miss.

“Oh dear,” says Bossuet. 

“Oh dear is right,” says Combeferre. “Bossuet, not only do you miss, you miss so badly that you end up hitting Enjolras and Bahorel instead.”

“Oh dear,” says Bossuet, with feeling. 

“Enjolras, Bahorel, make a dexterity saving throw.” 

They do. Enjolras passes; Bahorel does not. Combeferre winces. “Five damage,” he says.

“Are we back at the start yet?” Asks Bahorel. Combeferre nods. “Joly, my pal, my best bud, my saviour, I would really appreciate some of that sweet sweet healing magic just about now.”

Joly rolls his eyes but smiles. “I use my action to throw my handaxe at the second assailant.” A pause. “ And I use my bonus action to cast healing word on Bahorel.” 

He rolls before Combeferre even has to instruct it; his hit lands and deals eight damage to the assailant. Bahorel regains twelve health points. 

“Thanks bud,” Bahorel says.

“Aaaand, the second assailant is now dead,” Combeferre reports. Bossuet leans over and places a kiss against Joly’s cheek as Bahorel ruffles his hair. “The third assailant is glancing behind him warily; you can see the reluctance to fight flash in his eyes before his expression turns stony. He is now all that separates you from your victory.”

Combeferre watches his friends digest this information, gives it a minute to settle in; once they’ve cleared this obstacle they’ve almost succeeded in their quest. A six-month long campaign of plotting to overthrow the crown is coming to an end, Combeferre can see their adventures played back before him and he smiles.

“Enjolras,” says Combeferre bringing them back to the present, “back to you.”

Enjolras’ expression is set. “I am going to try and convince him one last time to leave.”

Behind Enjolras, Combeferre sees Grantaire roll his eyes. He smiles. “Okay, go ahead and roll for persuasion.” 

Enjolras does so; Courfeyrac whistles when the dice lands and Combeferre sees why as soon as he looks over; a natural twenty. 

“Okay,” Combeferre nods; he isn’t even trying to hide his grin anymore. A critical hit plus Enjolras’ insanely high charisma modifier? It isn’t even a question. “What do you say to make him leave?”

“I tell him that there has been far too much death tonight. That although I use death when it is necessary in our path, I hate to do so, and would avoid it where possible. I beg of him to change his ways; we are no longer living under the heel of a monarch and so he is no longer obligated to impose tyranny. He can find a different profession and make a more honest living. I ask him that he not only save himself, but also save us the task of killing him; he knows he will not survive this encounter otherwise and although his friends may be dead, he does not have to condemn himself to the same fate, or us to ours.”

The party is quiet in the wake of Enjolras’ words. 

“Enjolras, have you ever considered going into speech writing?” asks Feuilly after a moment or two has passed. Laughter passes through the party and Combeferre finds himself joining in. 

“He is convinced by your words,” says Combeferre once he’s composed himself. “He eyes you warily before throwing down his weapon and running off the way that he came. Your path forwards is clear.”

The party cheer. 

[aliensupermodels]

TW: abuse, SH, SA

I was in a physically, emotional, and mentally abusive relationship for over a year with a boy I thought I was going to spend my life with. He is not a man, so I will be referring to him as a boy. A man doesn’t treat anyone with the disrespect and hatred that I was shown. I’ve held all this information in for almost two years now. Since then I have tried everything I can think of to recover, to heal. From crying endless nights to therapy. I won’t ever be healed, but I can overcome the feelings. This is my story.

We were colleagues. I had a boyfriend and he had a girlfriend. We weren’t even a pair anyone would have thought would be a couple. We didn’t interact, we worked in opposite areas. We were as much stranger as anyone who walked into that store was to me. As a cashier, I saw many people every day that I would spend less than ten minutes with and within seconds I’d forget them. He decided to pass by my lane, catching my eye. We had a brief conversation. Said our goodbyes, never did I expect to talk again. Until he asked for my snapchat the next week. My naivety thought he was flirting with me. Then the next few days I saw him doing the same thing to another colleague, who also had a boyfriend. I was jealous. Why was I jealous? I had a boyfriend who loved and cared for me. The guilt swarmed me, I had to let go of my boyfriend, but I didn’t want to be alone. I drug him along as the boy and I started talking. He would invite me to hang out, but I would say no cause I had a boyfriend. I was alway loyal. The boy told me that him and his girlfriend broke up and he needed someone. Since I still had a boyfriend, I declined. He tried to convince me it was just as friends, but I knew that in my heart I couldn’t be him friend without wanting more. Two weeks later, I ended things with my current boyfriend. The boy found out and asked me out. I said yes.

We went mini golfing. Everything was great. The butterflies, the nightly walks, the nights spent in each others rooms. I told him I wanted to take things slow. I know how I get attached and I didn’t want that. I wanted a casual, nothing more, relationship. Day eight of dating and he told me he loved me. This should’ve been my first red flag. I was pressured into telling him I loved him because he was on top of me, vulnerable. I felt I wasn’t gonna keep him if I didn’t tell him it. The first few months of the relationship were how any relationship should have been. The love, the caring, the respect. What I didn’t know was how much it was going to change.

Two months later, it was October, my birthday. I was turning 22 and I wanted to go to the bars with my friends. We were all finally 21 and I wanted to go out and make up for my lack of a 21st birthday. He was 20, he wasn’t able to go. I remember my roommates girlfriend told us it was time to go, I kissed him and my friends and I left him. He kept telling me not to drink too much, to text him where I was. He just wanted to make sure I was safe. I guess I drank a bit too much and sent a text saying “oops”. I told him I wasn’t gonna drink anymore and I had one more drink. He started to text and call me more asking when I was coming home, crying. He was furious that I didn’t want to leave. He told me he was having a panic attack and I needed to come home right that minute. I told my friends I needed to go, they very reluctantly agreed and we headed home. We arrived in our court, he was standing in the middle of the road, crying. I hugged him and we went to my room. He cried and told me he doesn’t trust other people around me when I’m drinking. He told me he wasn’t comfortable with me going out like that and to promise him I wouldn’t do it again. I told him I wouldn’t do it anymore and that I’ll drink at home with him. I comforted him all night long.

From then on, I was scared to drink at all, with my friends or without. If I drank I had to be with him. We continued to date. People at work thought we were the perfect couple, that we were so in love. And I did love him. I was completely oblivious to everything that was happening and what was going to happen. He started to make comments to me about how he didn’t have any friends. So he started to hang out with me and my friends. He’d get upset and angry if I tried to hang out with them without him. He had to be with me 100% of the time, unless it was his choice. He started failing out of college. It was my last semester, I wanted to finish it strong. He started skipping class to stay in bed with me, then blaming his failure on me. Telling me that it’s my fault that he’s missing all his classes. He would skip, even when I was in classes. I started to feel as if it was my fault. I tried to help him with coursework, driving him to class, helping him study, everything to make him pass. He failed out, blaming on hanging out with me as the problem.

He started to stop telling me I was beautiful, that he cared about me, that he loved me. Anything positive. It was always what I was doing wrong, everything negative about me. I’d ask him if he loved me and he’d say “you know I do”, I’d ask him constantly to just tell me and he goes “why do I have too?”. I’d ask him a question and it was always, “sure” “maybe” “I don’t care”. When I asked if he could stop saying sure because it made me feel as if he didn’t care and didn’t want to do anything I asked, he just went “it doesn’t matter, it means ok”. He would take any opportunity to tell me that I was irritating, annoying, and just doing everything for attention. I started convincing myself that he didn’t love me, that I was just an annoyance to him. I was about to graduate and we needed to talk about what we were gonna do since I was moving home after graduation. He told me to move in. So I did. After graduation, I moved in with him and his roommate. He refused to let me make any part of the space my own. All my belongings lived in the living room, still in boxes. I cried night after night, not belonging. He allowed me to put my comforter on the bed to make it feel more like my space as well. He didn’t understand why it mattered so much to me. That room was his, I was just a parasite in his room. I only had my clothes, pillow, comforter, and a fan in that room with me. It wasn’t home, it was a nightmare.

One night, we were both fast asleep. I woke up to him on top of me, making out with me. I pushed him off, but him pushing harder to undress me. I kept telling him no. I started crying, he wouldn’t let up. Finally, he rolled over and fell asleep. When we woke up, I told him what happened, he laughed and said “I guess I was horny while asleep”. I told him it wasn’t okay. I wasn’t okay with it, since he knew my history with sexual assault and rape. I was terrified and couldn’t sleep for days, scared he was going to do it again. He proceeded to tell all my work friends about the situation and they all laughed and joked about how I took it so seriously. I was embarrassed that I was reacting that way. I didn’t think of it as sexual assault at the time, but I didn’t like it. I started to feel as if I was being a prude, and that I was overreacting. He convinced me later that I was crazy and he was just sleeping, it meant nothing. To this day, the vision of him on top of me, putting all his weight on me and forcing me to have sex with him, is burned in my brain.

I stayed with him. Through this. Through everything. I was starting to go through a bunch of family problems. Always his response was “I don’t talk to my family either”. I remember him going to shower and I started crying about how I wasn’t gonna have a mom anymore and he came out and hugged me. I hadn’t seen this side of him before, it was reassuring that he still wanted me in his life. We were in a good point. Growing up I was a self-harmer. I would slice into my skin like I was a piece of meat. Through these family problems, I relapsed. He knew that I had these problems, since I had the scars laced on my skin. He started questioning why I wasn’t having sex with him, or showering with him. When I showed him, he was mad. Angry that I didn’t tell him. Constantly asking “do you not trust me?”. I would explain that I did trust him, I was embarrassed and didn’t know how to tell him. Within the next few days, he started to not let me shower with him, acting the same as me. When I finally had the confidence to approach the situation, he showed me fresh cuts on his hip. I comforted him, but realized that he didn’t have a history of self-harm behavior. I questioned it, but also wanted to make sure he was okay. When I asked if he did it because I did it, he responded with “see how it feels?”. I didn’t know what to do. We never went back to this conversation again. The cuts healed, but I was breaking down even more.

We hit our one year anniversary. We went to Disneyland. I could tell something was wrong, but I didn’t want to ruin our weekend. When we came back from the trip, the worst came out. The nights would start with him yelling at me for being gone all day with friends. He would hold me down, or pin me against doors. He would stand in front of the door, not allowing me to leave until I gave him what he wanted. I started crying every day at work. I didn’t know how to get out. I was scared of what he would do to me. I became silent. I did what he asked, he convinced me that everyone at work was against me. That they would choose him over me (which he was right). It was hitting my birthday time again. I decided to go to my home town cause I knew the boy and I were having problems. On my birthday he texted me “happy birthday” and that was it. I cried all day; I didn’t understand what I was doing to deserve this. When the weekend was over, I came back to the apartment, and he just played his video games. I asked if he still wanted to be with me and he didn’t respond. I asked if we should break up and he didn’t respond. I went to work the next day and a bunch of girls wanted to go out and celebrate my birthday at some bars. I was scared. I knew what happened last birthday. I decided to go. When I texted him to tell him the plan, he called me. He asked if he could go, but I told him it was a girls night and I needed it. He was furious. I got home and changed and he asked to drive me, even though he knew the plan was for me get a ride from a friend. He started heavily crying and telling me that I was gonna cheat on him and that I was only going to wear my “slutty clothing”. I told him I needed a girls night to celebrate my birthday because I had a crappy one. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t come. I told him that he couldn’t tell me he wanted to be in a relationship with me, so I didn’t want him to go. I left, but he blew up my phone with calls. In the room with a bunch of my girl friends, I put him on speaker and they heard him screaming at me over the phone. One of them took my phone and hung it up (later finding out he cheated on me with her). We went out and I came home to him drunk out of his mind. Once again holding me down, yelling at me. Leaving bruises all over my neck and hips.

The next few days, we barely talked. We went to work then home, he’d go on his gaming computer and I’d watch netflix. I decided to go to lunch with my best friend because I was suffering. He asked to come. I told him no, I needed time with her alone. He once again started getting frustrated that I was gonna go “talk shit” about him. He ended up coming, cause I was afraid. I was terrified of him. We started to become strangers, but I tried to save the relationship. I fought every day for the boy that was inside him that was there before this all. I kept asking if he wanted me to stay, did he want to be with me. He could never answer these questions. I fought for weeks for us. Everyday I would ask if he wanted me to leave, move out. He would never say yes or no. He would just say I don’t know.

I loved him, I was so in love and I still am. I may have been terrified of him, but I loved him and wanted to be with him. I was blinded. He couldn’t give me an answer so I finally decided I needed to leave. I packed all my stuff, telling him I was leaving. He told me he’d “find a new girl quickly”. I was broken, numb, and lost.

[ivory--raven]

Analysis: Albus Dumbledore

Dumbledore is a very, very questionable character.

His years with Grindelwald influence what he does much, much later on in life. Albus wanted power, he craved it. He says to Harry (if we believe that that was indeed really him)

I too sought a way to conquer death

and of his relationship with Gellert,

It was the thing, above all, that drew us together. [...] Two clever, arrogant boys with a shared obsession.

We know he defeated Gellert in 1945, but did not kill him, instead locking him in Nurmengard. JK said post-books that Albus was on love with Gellert, and it's hinted at in Crimes of Grindelwald ("oh, we were closer than brothers").

Even many years later, he says

"Me. You have guessed, I know, why the Cloak was in my possession on the night your parents died. James had showed it to me just a few days previously. It explained much of his undetected wrongdoing at school! I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I asked to borrow it, to examine it. I had long since given up on my dream of uniting the Hallows, but I could not resist, could not help taking a closer look... It was a Cloak the likes of which I had never seen, immensely old, perfect in every respect... And then your father died, and I had two Hallows at last, all to myself!"

His tone was unbearably bitter.

Harry asks:

So you'd given up looking for the Hallows when you saw the Cloak?

Dumbledore forces himself to meet Harry's eyes and says

oh yes. You know what happened. You know. You cannot despise me more than I despise myself.

At this point he is talking about the death of his sister Ariana. But although he says he had long since given up on my dream of uniting the Hallows he never says it was no longer his dream, implying that it still tempted him in 1981.

Of Ariana, he says that Harry should despise him, and

you know the secret of my sister's ill health, what those Muggles did, what she became. You know how my poor father sought revenge, and paid the price, died in Azkaban. You know how my mother gave up her own life to care for Ariana.

Another mother sacrificing herself for her child!

I resented it, Harry.

I was gifted, I was brilliant. I wanted to escape. I wanted to shine. I wanted glory. Do not misunderstand m, I loved them. I loved my parents. I loved my brother and my sister, but I was selfish, Harry, more selfish than you, who are a remarkably selfless person, could possibly imagine. So that, when my mother died, and I was left the responsibility of a damaged sister and a wayward brother, I returned to my village in anger and bitterness. Trapped and wasted, I thought! And then, of course, he came...

Grindelwald. You cannot imagine how his ideas caught me, Harry, inflamed me. Muggles forced into subservience. We wizards triumphant. Grindelwald and I, the glorious young leaders of the revolution.

Oh, I had a few scruples. I assaged my conscience with empty words.

Of the ressurection stone, he said

To me, I confess, it meant the return of my parents, and the lifting of all responsibility from my shoulders

He says that he was

offered the post of Minister of Magic not once, but several times. Naturally, I refused. I had learned that I was not to be trusted with power.

Before 1945, then, Dumbledore has the idea in his head that he should not have power, that he is too easily tempted by it.

it would not be unreasonable, I think, to wonder if he saw another boy, gifted, brilliant, clever, arrogant, and decided that he ought not have power either, that he was too similar to Albus himself and Gellert, who during this time was wreaking havoc in the wizarding world.

He says that he despises himself, and it's possible that that was the root of his dislike of the next child he met with similar traits: Tom Riddle. An orphan, a dislike if those 'less than' him, a penchant for cruelty he was seemingly unbothered by.

The greater good drove much of what Albus does. He knew Tom was a Parselmouth, and did not come forward even when Myrtle died - instead choosing to inform Tom that the school would close if it didn't stop, thus bringing an end to the basilisk's hunt... Perhaps he hoped Tom would be legally disposed of, a threat gone, and the lives of a few students were an acceptable sacrifice - the 'any harm done' he mentions - for the well-being of the people he feared Tom would kill if allowed to roam free - the 'benefits he talked about'.

Albus often seems to make justifications like this.

He was witnessing, after all, another boy with a cruel streak, lofty ideas of himself, ambition and dislike of the idea of dying, wreak havoc on the Wizarding World.

Years later, he traded Harry's life for others. Severus finds out in a rather unpleasant way: Albus says

We have protected him because it had been essentiitk teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength. Meanwhile, the connection between them grows ever stronger, a parasitic growth: sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged things so that if he does set out to meet his death, it will truly mean the end of Voldemort.

We have protected him because it had been essential teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength. Meanwhile, the connection between them grows ever stronger, a parasitic growth: sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged things so that if he does set out to meet his death, it will truly mean the end of Voldemort.

Severus is horrified:

You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?

Albus says,

Don't be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you seen die?

And...

Harry understood at last that he was not supposed to survive. His job was to walk calmly into Death's welcoming arms. Along the way, he was to dispose of Voldemort's remaining links to life, so that when at last he flung himself across Voldemort's path, and did not raise a wand to defend himself, the end would be clean, and the job that ought to have been finished in Godric's Hollow would be finished: Neither would live, neither could survive.

Harry feels terror. He wonders if dying will hurt. It does not occur to him that he has a choice, that he could try something else... and he thinks

Dumbledore's betrayal was almost nothing.

Harry thinks through Albus' plan, and is not angry. Instead, he considers himself 'foolish' for not seeing the big plan. He thinks he has failed because Nagini lives. He wants to do what Albus would have wanted even now.

To reach that point, he had ten years of belittlement, ten years of living, underfed, in a cupboard, malnourished - in the first book it is mentioned that he is short, scrawny and had knobbly knees because of a lifetime spent in confinement.

And then the bearded, wise wizard, a grandfatherly man, cared for him.

Harry doesn't remember caring adults. He craved approval. When Albus puts his life in danger, (and Albus himself admits that they were tests to prepare Harry for his death) Harry says that it is good of Albus to allow Harry the choice.

It isn't a choice, not really. Harry has been conditioned not to think of any options.

Harry is trained up just as Albus planned. And in the end, he did what Albus wanted.

He arranged everything because, on Albus' orders, Severus told Harry about Albus' idea that Harry would have arranged everything!

Even from the grave, his portrait was manipulating Severus into living a lie and risking his life again and again, no longer for the woman he loved, just because Albus wants him to and has convinced Severus to do it..

The power Albus had was not the power he had feared, but it was power nonetheless

Harry did one thing differently. One thing Albus had not planned

And that was offering Tom the chance to redeem himself. Again and again, Harry tries to explain, tries to tell Tom about what he doesn't know - and strips Tom down to his very core, to the arrogant, gifted, so very brilliant boy, a boy clever enough and arrogant enough to catch himself in a complex trap.

Harry asks Tom to redeem himself.

Albus didn't think Tom could be redeemed.

Tom refused.

And why wouldn't he, when nobody who knew of his ambitions believed he had any chance of loving, of empathy? He had been taught nothing. Even Harry had a loving family to observe, and later on the Weasleys showed him that love, but Tom? An orphan among many others, hated for his powers, someone presumed to be a muggleborn in Slytherin, returning year after year to deadly, war torn London? It isn't hard to see where he got the idea that he was not cared for, not loved, not really... And if he couldn't have it wasn't worth having!

Albus' downfall was believing too much in war and absolute power, and not truly embracing the love he preached. Albus is a man of sacrifice and trade offs. In the ghostly station, Harry sees a crying baby and feels bad, and Albus sees a vanquished enemy and is satisfied. He convinces Harry to believe that he is right - Albus believes himself. Harry, a boy told again and again that he was worthless, a liar, a boy who had had everything he believed in ripped out from under him multiple times, finds it easier to be convinced then to believe his first instinct.

Albus didn't believe in forgiveness. He did not forgive himself, he did not forgive Severus. He kept bringing up Severus' past actions to control him. He was unwilling to try and give Tom a second chance.

And perhaps it can all be traced back to a blonde boy whose darkness be thought could be overlooked, but could not, and a redheaded boy fascinated by things he would later condemn, whose past haunted him forever.

[ruffiorocks]

Lena deserves better than being the only one to suffer for her faults

You know, I hope they don't make Lena go bad, even if she temporarily loses her way.

It would be such a waste of 3 seasons of character development and soooo cliche.

Plus I know Kara is the main character and the main hero, but this show has actually done a pretty good job of showing us that Kara is in no way perfect, she makes rash decisions, f**ks up, lies, has a lot of emotional issues, has been xenophobic (Mon El) makes poor choices sometimes, can be manipulative (using James against Lena), uses Lena quite a lot, has serious Jekell and Hyde issues, scoffs at authority even if those in authority are arseholes etc. She's even killed people/aliens, she killed Rudy/Parasite and she killed Reign, even if she did go back in time and reverse that.

Lena is in no way perfect either, but then she was never supposed to be a squeaky clean hero like we're supposed to see Kara as, although as I've mentioned she isn't squeaky clean at all! Lena has done dodgy stuff but because of her last name and the fact the show likes to 'tease' her going bad, she is the ONLY one that anyone is concerned about when it comes to being questionable, because that's how the show presents it. Even in the teasers or promos about her, they leave whatever she's doing as a question mark.

But Kara on the show, and even in promos is presented as the hero in the right no matter what. The only way we really get to see Kara as having done something wrong is if Lena or Kara herself points it out. People say this is the show Constantly making Kara apologize to Lena but I think it's great! Having Kara apologize for some of the nonsense she pulls, especially to Lena humanizes her and acknowledges that she isn't as perfect as she's usually presented to be.

The show does a horrible job of ignoring how dodgy the other Superfriends can be, because they are the 'heroes' and Lena is forever the question mark, even though without her they can't always save the day. They get round this by sometimes making Lena indirectly responsible for what goes on. But Lena isn't always the ONLY one involved in the issues that happen.

E.g. Rhea and the Daxamite invasion:

When Rhea first arrived with Mon Els dad and the Daxamite fleet, she had no interest whatsoever in Earth. ALL she wanted was for Mon El to go back with them. She threatened Earth because she thought they were holding Mon El hostage.

Mon El who had talked a big game about not being OK with slavery or anything else Daxam did and wanted to be a hero, took less than an hour to decide he had no interest in taking the colossal opportunity handed to him where he could make a difference. He thought his culture was dead, no way to make up for his past faults. But lo and behold he got a second chance to write Daxams wrongs. Yes his mum threatened to lock him in a cell until the reached Daxam but is 3 years in a cell really that big of a price to pay for the ability to make changes? He would have been king, he probably couldn't change things Immediately, but he could have built a support base, staged a coup, led a rebellion or at least tried!! But nope, he decided to leave the remaining Daxam Slaves and any future ones to their fates so he could have his girl. Don't forget as well that Mon El left it until he was beamed aboard his parents ship to let Kara know who he was. He let Kara think he was possibly going to his death when he knew it was just mum and dad and he was way past currew! Kara in tears because that jack ass was crying to thought he might die and risked her own neck to join him on the Daxamite ship.

Kara in this situation wasn't any better. She talked a big game about how sh*t Daxam was and how wrong slavery was. She even went to Slavers Bay with Mon El and rescued people. But when the time came for Mon El to possibly fix or at least begin to fix Daxams slave issues she had zero interest in it, she had a go at Rhea for it but made no attempt to convince Mon El that maybe going back and helping his people was a good idea, no Kara's concern for Daxamite slaves only goes as far as her not getting her man. The stupid thing was if it had been the other way round it would have been in character for Kara to take that 3 years in a cell and do the noble thing.

So yeah, Rhea only invaded because Mon El told her to get lost and she blamed Kara for it. Lena had absolutely nothing to do with that, Rhea had already made the decision to make Earth New Daxam because of Kara and Mon El, way before she ever set eyes on Lena.

But non of that is ever acknowledged, but Lena's part in helping an alien try to get home and in the process perhaps help third world countries get the aid they needed in mere minutes was heavily highlighted. We got to see Lena hating herself for that, while Kara/Supergirl mopped about like an emo ignoring Lena and not really acknowledging the part she played in the invasion. Because we're left to see it as purely Lena's fault.

We are shown Jonn as the fatherly papa bear who struggles with violence. We saw him try the path of peace and fail at it, his father shows up and tells him that's OK and we're all like "ahhh papa bear".

BUT

Whats glossed over is Jonn's serious anger issues and homicidal tendencies. He wanted to kill the White Martian that was impersonating the Senator, he had already knocked it out and subdued it. But that wasn't enough for Jonn, he wanted it dead because it was a white Martian, he was going to kill the unarmed, unconscious alien and even brought along Kryptonite cuffs so Kara wouldn't be able to stop him from slaughtering it. Thankfully Kara gave a hope speech and he snapped out of it.

Secondly Jonn actually DOES kill Manchester Black after he disarms him. Manchester who can no longer do any harm to him is brutally stabbed it the chest, all because he made Jonn see something traumatic. If Jonn can't handle the possibly of psychic attacks he shouldn't be out there fighting. He killed a human that couldn't harm him after he was disarmed. But is this highlighted or discussed in any way whatsover? No! Manchester is just gone and Jonn gets to be all 'well that's done and dusted, off to game night".

Kara's roll in this? Kara is shocked for all or 5 seconds before she is telling Jonn every one makes mistakes amd he can still be on his path of peace.....I mean....... What?! Who wrote that dialogue? But Kara's own super hero code shouldn't she have reported Jonn or had him arrested? No of course not because Jonn is one of the designated heroes and not deemed questionable by writer's or the audience even though his actions say something different.

People that call Lena a murderer for shooting an unarmed Lex don't seem to recall Kara killing Parasite rather than locking him up and getting the DEO to try and find a cure. They don't recall Jonn INTENDING to kill the White Martian. They don't remember Jonn MURDERING an unarmed Manchester Black in same F**king season as Lena shooting Lex! Why is this not acknowledged? Because the show chooses not to highlight it! They don't even have Kara bothered by Murder or Killing enemies if it's her or the super friends doing it.

But Lena? Ooh she shot an unarmed Lex, must be dodgy as f**k and deserves to be locked up, what an evil murderer!! Oh no, Lena shot the Arrowverses version of Hitler who was about to destroy an entire planet of Kryptonians who are only still here because of Lena!! How awful she must be.

Let's not forget as well that a lot of what Lena has done has been supported by the Superfriends at one point or another. I seem to recall a certain Alex Danvers and Brainy working on that Harun El serum!

Yes Adam was a terrible tragedy that shouldn't have happened. But is that worse than Jonn actually premeditating murder? Or out right Killing someone he had already disarmed? You talk about clinical trials etc but the show isnt going to waste precious air time going through that. Lena made a gigantic mistake, at least she owns the mistake and refused Haley when she wanted to use the Serum on DEO Agents.

Kara has zero issues telling Nia a girl she has known for 5 minutes her secret because she felt some solidarity and was missing Alex. She didn't know Nia at all, Nia could have been playing her or anything, but this isn't acknowledged because Nia is the new Hero (fyi love Nia). But Lenw, her best friend of 3 years and the girl who has been in the DEO kicking add and saving lives and the world apparently isn't Worthy of this secret. Why? Kara's bulls**t excuse is to keep Lena safe, yet she apparently gives zero f**ks about Winns of Nia's safety. The real reason is because Lena is q Luthor and the show just needed her to not know and although the keeping Lena safe reason isn't a bad one, it becomes null and void when they have Kara telling people she barely knowns who she is. That goes for the "Kara doesn't owe her identity to anyone" argument as well , that only works when she isn't telling everyone she meets after 5 minutes of knowing them.

Basically after that tangent I went in, if Lena becomes bad after saving the world and Kara's ass more times than many of the super friends have done purely so we can have Kara defeat her and come out as the shining heroine that defeats the bad Luthor (not cliche at all) whilst not acknowledging some of her own faults and the homicidal tendencies of Jonn and the actual murder he committed it would be beyond hypocritical.

Fyi, had Kara told Lena who she was, a lot of issues could have been avoided, especially the Rhea one and Reign/Kryptonite one.

[mst3kproject]

802: The Leech Woman – Part II

So now that we’ve established that The Leech Woman is a shitty movie full of shitty people saying and doing shitty things, we have to ask if there’s a point to all this.  After all, movies about terrible people backstabbing each other can still say something, even if it’s just a nihilistic statement about how horrible human beings are.  What is The Leech Woman trying to tell us?

As far as I can tell, it’s ugly women should just accept that they’ll never be loved, and go wither away somewhere so we don’t have to look at them.

At the beginning of the film, we’re supposed to feel sorry for June – she’s older than her husband, and he does not love or respect her.  We want her to get out of this terrible situation, and the movie offers her two ways of doing so: she can leave him, or she can alter herself to fit his standards.  The latter choice is one movies present to women over and over – if that guy doesn’t like you, just change everything about yourself in order to earn him!  But where the standard ‘makeover movie’ offers this as a happy ending, in The Leech Woman it destroys not only June but everyone around her.

One might argue that to change oneself in this way is necessarily to destroy oneself, but in The Leech Woman it’s quite literal.  Most obviously, one of the ingredients in the Cure for Old is a secretion from the pineal gland, which apparently must come from a live victim.  To use it, June has to kill somebody.  No other option, such as obtaining the hormone from an animal, or extracting it in some non-lethal fashion, is ever entertained.  By having the police investigate the murder of the criminal, the movie points out that even those we might see as unimportant or even deserving are human beings, and their deaths will matter to somebody.

We also see June herself destroyed in two different ways.  First of all physically, as the side-effects of the potion make her older and older every time it wears off.  Second, morally, as she becomes more and more blasé about murder.  Her asshole husband could be seen as deserving it, as could David when he rejects her.  But then later she picks up a complete stranger with every intention of killing him, and while this man is a criminal, there is nothing to indicate that was a necessary qualifier.  June would have committed the murder whether he’d tried to rob her or not.  

I must spare a few words here for The Leech Woman’s terrible makeup.  Actress Colleen Gray was thirty-eight when The Leech Woman was made (the age I am now, in fact), and as far as I can tell making her look older was accomplished simply by not having her wear any makeup. Even so, she doesn’t look like she’s out of her thirties, she just looks like she didn’t sleep very well the previous night.  Then, to make her look younger, they cake the makeup on so thickly, she looks like she’s made of plastic.  Finally, when she’s ‘really old’ I think they just smeared Elmer’s glue all over her and let it dry.  None of the three ages of June are convincing as what they’re supposed to be.

Anyway, one might suggest that the movie is saying June should have left Paul and gone to live her own life, rather than trying to make herself conform to his standards, but I don’t think it is.  The reason why not is that The Leech Woman has no concept of women as people who can exist separately from men.  It outright says as much in Malla’s speech before her own rejuvenation.

This little monologue is jaw-dropping.  She states that old age among men is a time of dignity and respect, but old women are worthless.  For one thing, this completely at odds with the type of culture the Nando are supposed to represent.  In traditional societies all over the world, old people tend to be revered regardless of gender, because having lived a long time has allowed them to learn more, remember more, and contribute more than anyone else.  The idea that an old woman has no value, that she deserves only ‘pity, contempt, and neglect’ because she is no longer attractive, is very much a modern, western one.

Second, this is what the movie tells us will happen to June if she leaves Paul.  She doesn’t seem to have any family or friends (because women don’t exist outside of their relationships with men), so she’ll just go waste away somewhere with nobody caring about her.  But since using the Cure for Old is explicitly an evil thing to do, within the world of The Leech Woman this is what June should have done!  Rather than try to get what she wants, she should have just accepted that she’s ugly and gross and nobody wants her, and gone off to crochet in a rocking chair somewhere so that pretty people can live their lives!  And this applies only to women.  The idea of using the Cure for Old on men never comes up, except when Malla says they don’t need it.  Wow, fuck you, movie.

Another idea in Malla’s speech is the reiteration that women are defined by their value to men.  She never mentions the idea of an older woman doing anything with herself – she just sits around and wishes she were still cute so she could ‘know the worship of men’.  They’re not supposed to want anything else.  June certainly doesn’t.  She doesn’t treat her rejuvenation as a chance to start her life over, she just tempts boring-ass Neil to cheat on his fiancée. She doesn’t even want to marry him herself, just to sleep with him.

Here the movie’s morals get a bit confusing.  You’d think that by the standards of the late 50’s and early 60’s Sally, who wants to marry Neil and settle down with him, would be the good girl of The Leech Woman.  Yet Sally is clearly supposed to be nagging and clingy, as if we ought to want Neil to leave her.  It’s as if the movie is trying to say that women are just terrible in general, and love and relationships are essential for them but traps for men.  The title The Leech Woman, as if she’s some kind of parasite, just seems to reinforce this.

Having given this some thought, I think where it comes from is that a woman’s attractiveness gives her power over a man, and the writers of The Leech Woman see this as a bad thing.  At the beginning of the movie, June is a powerless victim.  The first time she takes the Cure for Old, she gets a shot of power in the process – she’s allowed to choose a sacrifice, and she takes the opportunity to punish her abuser.  A few days later, David attempts to assert power over her by denying her the bag of youth pollen.  Again, she is given power over him when he falls into the quicksand, and she uses it to dispatch another person who has done her wrong.

From there on, June’s on an all-out power trip.  She can see that Neil is immediately attracted to her, and she loves it.  When she keeps him at her house by making a series of quick minor requests, like ‘pour me a drink’ or ‘take my bags upstairs’, she is testing this power, seeing how far it’ll go, and she’s very pleased with the results.  Later she plays with the criminal, stringing him along with her ‘nice old lady’ act until finally killing him. It’s an addiction of sorts – now that she’s had a taste of this, all she wants is more, more, more.  I wonder if the pollen itself isn’t supposed to represent a drug.  When Sally’s pineal juice doesn’t work and June laments that she’s killed her for nothing, that just shows that it was power, rather than Neil, that June wanted. Sally can’t stand between Neil and June when she’s dead… but if she cannot also be a source of power, her murder served no purpose.

At the end, June loses everything.  Like many real-world serial killers, she has come to think she’s untouchable, and that has made her sloppy – she fails to take back the card her victim took from her, and that leads the police to her door.  When she realizes she can’t get rid of them herself, she asks Neil to make them leave, and he can’t.  The only weapon she has left is her beauty, so she seeks to regain it, but the youth pollen only works when the pineal hormone is a man’s.  Trying to use Sally’s just makes June even older.  With absolutely nothing left, she commits suicide.

Naturally, all this also tells us that women are each other’s natural enemies.  All they want is men and those are in limited supply.  Sally and ‘Terri’ despise each other at first sight, each instantly recognizing that the other is competition.  When they cannot intimidate each other, both resort to violence.  Even at the ‘twist’ ending when Sally’s pineal gland proves to be no use to June, this might be seen as a metaphor for women tearing each other down, as Sally has her revenge from beyond the grave.  Or at least, beyond the coat closet.

I said at the beginning of last week’s review that this movie hates everybody, and it really does, doesn’t it?  It hates women, but based on the assholetude of the various male characters, it hates men, too.  It hates white people, who are avaricious and power-hungry, but it also hates black people… and I haven’t even had space to discuss that yet!  I could also spend some time on how much it evidently hates its audience. That’s right, you guessed it. Stay tuned, because next week we’re in for The Leech Woman, Part IIII!