#alternate translation: fuck it we ball

[luvwich]

been picking away at some extended lore for a WIP (the WIP itself being very sparsely developed right now other than it's a sequel to Jaded or at least happens in that timeline/universe) — anyway one thing i've been developing is some backstory around what's up with the philippines (or in the cyberpunk 2020 world, the New Philippines) in 2077.

in that vein i've been looking at the pacific rim sourcebook which is both very cool and very much from the 90s. some of the philippines stuff is dope as hell, but uh... look, i more than anyone can fully recognize that you can't tell background from surname, but i don't see any filipino sounding names in the list of writers or researchers and it kinda shows?

lol

BUT there is one very very cool PI related thing in there:

AVneys! bitch what??!!!

so an AV version of jeepneys:

which you can read more about here but basically came from repurposing military jeeps into privately run taxis with these incredible, colorful, maximalist designs (they're currently being phased out)

so i won't be drawing too much from the sourcebook; the AVney thing though? sooo sick, yes, i'll take that. i only wish they'd gone way further with the concept art for it. that thing up there looks positively demure!

the other thing i'm thinking of using is the name of the Bahala Na Zoku gang. now, they translate that to "I Don't Care Club" but bahala na isn't quite "i don't care" and more like "whatever happens happens" / "que sera sera." culturally it's way more interesting than "i don't care" but it's still a cool asf name.

[miyamiwu]

On Kaiser’s Trauma

I’ve thought it over, and I think there’s really no way for Kaiser to awaken this match. Be it scoring a goal or getting one over Isagi, he is not winning. I don’t see it at all.

I’ve reviewed the previous character development arcs, and one thing Kaneshiro has been staunch about is that internal development comes first before external development:

Chigiri - Chigiri had to get over his fear of losing his old self by putting his leg at risk again before the narrative rewarded him with a goal.

Bachira - Bachira had to overcome his fear of being alone before being rewarded with, not a goal, but with a friend who met him where he was.

Barou - Barou had to experience his arrogance being crushed and overcome the subsequent resignation he felt before he could reclaim his role as “main character.”

Hiori - Hiori had to first come at peace with giving up soccer entirely—something he had been hesitant to do, even when it hurt him, because he didn’t know what else to do—before discovering what soccer really means to him.

Yukimiya - Yukimiya found salvation when Isagi saw him as he was desperately fighting for a chance while he could still see.

It’s a bit different for Isagi’s main rivals, though:

Nagi - Nagi got motivated to put in an effort because of Isagi -> Got stronger during Second Selection -> Went back to old habits just to beat Isagi once -> Regressing in the rest of the NEL arc

Rin - Rin had to stop seeking answers outside of himself -> Unleashed his true ego during the U20 match -> Subconsciously sought affirmation from Sae at the end of the match -> Felt rejected by Sae -> ??? (The current match against PxG is ongoing, so I don’t know how he is right now)

Nagi’s and Rin’s development arcs are not linear, and currently both are in the lower curves of their arcs. This is because they haven’t fully solved their internal problems. Until Nagi finds a reason to push himself outside of beating Isagi and until Rin gets over his brother issues, they can never fully grow.

Likewise, Kaiser, who is undoubtedly also a main rival, has to first fucking get therapy process his childhood trauma before he can truly awaken.

But trauma is not easy to overcome. In fact, you don’t even really “heal.” Kaiser “getting over it” in just one match is impossible. As such, I don’t see him winning. At least not now.

Isagi throwing Kaiser’s words back at him by calling him a “clown” has gotten some people to think that Kaiser’s awakening is imminent. After all, a similar thing had happened to Barou before when Isagi called him “donkey.”

But Kaiser is not Barou. Both may be arrogant, but one of them didn’t grow up under violence. And as I’ve said before, internal development comes first. Barou’s internal problems, compared to Kaiser’s, are much easier to resolve.

And unlike Barou’s, Kaiser’s problems are not confined within soccer. They seep into his every being and in all aspects of his life, as we can see in how he treats himself and others off the field.

To begin, let’s talk about what Kaiser thinks of himself:

Alternatively, Hoshi’s translation of Kaiser’s monologue goes like this:

These guys are “humans.” Different from me, they were born wanted “humans.”

Having been abandoned by his mother and growing up abused by his father, Kaiser’s sense of worth is so low that he thinks he was born without it—which is wrong. Everybody is born deserving to live.

But Kaiser thinks otherwise. He sees himself as not even human because nobody wanted him alive. Still, he has this strong desire to live—a desire that had first made itself known to him at this moment:

Right before this, he had looked so dead inside:

He didn’t flinch when the cops came to arrest him. He didn’t try to fight for the escape money he had stashed away. He was so passive and tired and helpless that he might as well be truly dead.

But at that moment his father was about to destroy his soccer ball? A fire lit up inside him. A fire so bright and strong that he got to beat seven cops while handcuffed.

That fire was the love he had for soccer. All his life he’d been in a passive position, but when he fought for what he love, the reins of his life got transferred into his hands.

And in that moment, Michael Kaiser, for once, was truly alive.

Now, he’s living his life in constant search of that fire—or “proof of his existence,” as he puts it.

However, Kaiser has misunderstood what that fire is. After all, how can he recognize love when he’s never been loved?

Only pain and violence are familiar. Thus, it is honestly no surprise when he misattributes “proof of existence” to “inflicting malice on others, living on inside them as a scar.”

For Kaiser to grow, he has to redefine “proof of existence.” How can his own existence depend on the number of people he defeats? That’s unhealthy. And as with Rin’s problem, it’s just seeking answers outside of himself.

But for Kaiser to even begin redefining it, he must first learn to recognize love for what it is.

Love was the fire that was lit inside him. He must go back to it. (Like how Bachira awakened by going back to how he used to play as a child.)

Love is also the main thing that sets Isagi apart from him—the former having been raised by loving parents and having companions sincere to him—so it’s crucial that he learns this if he wants to defeat Isagi.

How can he do this? With the way he was raised, I don’t think Kaiser can learn love on his own. He has to learn it from others. But before that, he must see himself as “human.” While he still views himself as “non-human,” Kaiser won’t be able to connect deeply with “humans” and welcome any love from them.

And this is the crux of his problem...

Kaiser has made attempts to be more “human,” but...

... he’s going about it so horribly wrong 😭😭😭

@galaxynajma also sent this question:

What do you think is the new reason for why kaiser does this every morning: His morning routine consists of: standing before the mirror naked, gazing at himself while having a conversation (to himself), getting into the mindset that nothing is impossible, and then smiling while thinking ‘this is me’. (Trivia from Blue Lock wiki)

“This is me” is Kaiser reaffirming to himself that he is becoming more “human” when he sets out to achieve the “impossible.”

How to be Human 101

Okay, fuck, to be completely honest, I have no idea! I didn’t expect to get this psychological while I was writing 🫠

I had… written myself into a corner. But anyways, I’m gonna try seeing this through...

So, I’m no psychologist, but… I relate on a deeply personal level with Kaiser’s “human vs non-human.” But in my case, I had used the words “normal vs not normal.”

(This is gonna get a little bit personal, but bear with me!)

This distinction was something I strongly felt during my peak depression years. I felt like nobody truly understood me because they hadn’t been through what I had been through. Whatever the doctors said just went from one ear to another because I couldn’t trust them. In my head, I had categorized them as one of the “normal” people—their lives were so put-together and they were so in control and on top of things! Not like me, who was drowning.

I also slowly distanced myself from friends because they, too, were the “normal” ones.

One friend, however, stuck around. She didn’t mind me going missing for months without a word. And whenever I showed up again from who knows where, she would always excitedly welcome me back as if I never even left. And this was the friend who I thought to be always better than me in every way because she was prettier, smarter, and had a better financial status. So I never really expected her to get me.

But oh, she did. I found out that she wasn’t “normal,” too. She too had her own problems, and we got to share our sorrow with each other...

So, I guess what I’m trying to say here is that...

It’s not really a matter of erasing the distinction between “human” and “non-human.” It’s enough, for now, that Kaiser finds another “non-human” like him, and with whom he will slowly start to feel “human”—worthy of living and being loved.

I know Kaneshiro isn’t fond of therapy talk, but for Kaiser, I think it’s a must that he gets to open up to someone. He doesn’t have to share the full story. He just has to be sincere about it.

And who is the closest “non-human” that we have around Kaiser who’s also unwanted by his family?

Ness.

This doesn’t even have to be about shipping. And I know their relationship is looking pretty grim right now because of how Kaiser has been treating Ness since the beginning, but...

...I still believe that this, at least, was real.

Together, they can learn what it is to be “human.”

In summary, for Kaiser to awaken, he must first resolve his internal problems. To do this, he must...

Find a fellow “non-human.”

See himself as “human.”

Recognize love for what it is.

Redefine his “proof of existence”

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, *bows

---

Okay, so I don’t normally do this at the end of my posts, but I just recently launched my Alpha Reading Service. If you liked my analysis above and would like me to review your story the same way, do check it out!

Or, if you don’t need any alpha reading, consider tipping me on Ko-fi instead. Thank you!

[scienceoftheidiot]

"LET EDWARD SAY FUCK!",

I read in people's tags, often.

And it bugs me every time. Because, in the French translation of the manga, EVERYONE more or less says fuck or something equivalent.

I'll make a specific post maybe one day if I end up documenting those instance for other characters, but this week I saw this post by @manga-and-stuff (I hope you don't mind me using parts of your pics! Tell me if you want me to take them down) and it struck me. Because I know this scene by heart. And I knew French Hughes sounded a LOT MORE pissed and scared than English Hughes, to me. And no, it's not a matter of native/non native language, I consider myself good enough with English to be over this kind of things.

Let's have a look.

What striked me first and lead to me investingating this are the censoring symbols. I KNEW they weren't there in French, and I was curious. Was he really swearing? So I went to look in my manga (Perfect Edition).

Hughes literally says "you are breaking my [balls]" in French. [Balls], because he's using a kids-friendly euphemism ("bonbons"= candies; this is such a kids friendly one that one of the Rugrats characters is called "Casse-bonbons" in French, but I digress).

Thanks to my partner in crime @qs63, we could compare this to the Japanese version

Disclaimer : I don't speak Japanese, so I'm relying on @qs63's knowledge, but if you have corrections to make please tell us in comments !!

So, anyway. It seems Japanese Hughes uses the word "mendokusai", which is an expression of annoyance, not very slang-y but not necessarily very nice. But not worth censoring ! In this way, the French choice to use mild/childish slang there is I think closer to the original.

Other thing in these panels, the different levels of speech used by English and French Hughes. French has more flexibility regarding levels/formality in language, which I think I have already touched upon. When in English you have "Hurry up!", in French you have an entirely different word from the littéral translation of this ("dépêchez vous"), with "grouillez vous", which is familiar/slang speech, but isn't really that vulgar (it's not like "Hurry the fuck up", but that's a word you'd use when you're very pissed and in a real hurry).

And last but not least.

Hughes's last word(s).

English : "oh my god"

French : "bordel"

lit. : "brothel", which is here used as "fuck" or "shit" - I would argue "bordel" is stronger than those, but I don't know if other French people would think the same. I use it often, but I'm known for my foul mouth.

Japanese : 糞くそ垂たれ • (kusotare) (alternative reading hiragana くそったれ, rōmaji kusottare)(rude) a dingleberry (a clump of feces hanging near the anus)

(vulgar, derogatory) a dingleberry, an asshole, a shithead (used as an insult)

(vulgar) shit, fuck, goddammit

(using what you've given me, @qs63 thank you so much)

All this to say : Hughes is canonically saying fuck as his last word, and English translation has decided to censor it, and I think this is sad. This feels almost like a different character when I read the English and French side to side, and I wonder how it is for Roy, who has a very distinctive way to chose his words in French (either too formal or too informal/slang-y for what he's currently saying), and I know he uses a weird honorific for himself in Japanese (watashi, formal I, when most of his speech is informal, which makes for an odd combination, and might be there to signal he thinks highly of himself).

(Once again notice how French has it easier to translate this because of our more formal/informal variations)

Let Edward say fuck? Let everyone say fuck and stay closest as you can to the original writing, PLEASE !

(no offense to translators, you know I love you friends. I'm convinced this is not the will of the translator, but rather the will of the publisher, as US stuff is a lot more sanitized, especially in things they deem "for children". At least that's how it seems from this side of the Atlantic.)

Here you go. Please add to this if you want !!! I'd love to know about more translations or if you have some insight to add about the Japanese part !

[jmdbjk]

Does anyone have an alternative English translation of the article that is NOT the one published by Weverse?

Because I find it hard to believe that this story was allowed to be published as is. Someone dropped the ball big time.

I understand Weverse is owned by HYBE and not BigHit. But some oversight was totally lacking in publishing that story. Why and how did this article get approved to run as it is? Someone did not check the translation. And the slant of the article is just wrong.

If the story had been written like "y'all we up against this racist shit" but it was like "this here is the shit, and these pathetic artists could barely make a dent" It makes no sense.

I don't know who the author is, someone said they are a girl group stan who has written less than nice things about BTS before. Whoever they are, I hope they are fired because a retraction is not enough.

Those of us who were trying to give benefit of the doubt, to try to come up with rational reasons for things we see being done and decisions being made surrounding BTS, group and members' solo activities and projects, this just takes the ever-loving cake. That one single story has pretty much fucked up everyone in the head.

They don't realize it but they risk a kpop flash-in-the-pan moment (which may have already occurred) and then the western/American market will eat them alive as they are already capable of doing when BTS is not present.

There won't be a gradual building. Our music market won't allow it.

Maybe the disconnect is associated with this resignation of whoever that HYBE exec was. I forgot who and what he was. CCO? Chief Content Officer? This content is pure fucking ass bullshit.

It just reeks of right hand not knowing what left hand is doing.

Spending hundreds of thousands of dollars turning the city purple as ONLY would happen because of BTS and NO ONE ELSE, and then allowing one of their own public relations channels to publish this piece of shit story.

The west is NOT the target reader of Weverse magazine. Kpop fans are. That's the wrong western artist to give any kind of publicity to. The story should never have run. Morgan Wallen is a divider, not someone who will forge any togetherness. I live in the land of rednecks, I know what kind of hardcore fans these are. NONE of them are going to give BTS the time of day. And here Weverse is trying to kiss some redneck ass.

This was a total FAIL on HYBE's head.

[ofmermaidstories]

i love the BNHA fandom with my whole heart (heartussy) and will (and HAVE) happily get into fights about how it’s just a passionate fanbase and that any popular media is gonna attract the same but the ONE, the ONE thing i will agree with the haters on (or rather, give the haters as free ammo bc this never occurs to them) is that western fans have the WORST entitlement and manners when it comes to fucking LEAKS. twitter and tiktok have been UNBEARABLE today because everyone is either reposting the leak pages (which are still very much illegal, japan does not fucking play with that!!!!), colouring them and reposting them or already pumping out fanfart, and tagging it all under spoilers. spoilers are NOT the same as fucking leaks. they are TWO SEPERATE THINGS. we call them leaks because the leakers have to pay money in order to access the pages before the magazine is available for public sale. people go to jail for this. it is illegal. and beyond that—it’s fucking rude!!!!!! volume 40 didn’t go on sale until today, but for the past week twitter has just been shared pages from it—i’ve seen fans who live in japan try to gently remind their part of the timeline to please not share the pages, because we don’t exist in a vacuum—we share our fandom spaces with other fans in other countries!!!! and like, okay, you could make the argument that this is just fandom culture with BNHA now. but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck balls!!!! and i say it’s entitled because it’s always the same like, mega-fan accounts that start it, you know? the ones that are big Bakugou stans or otherwise shippers or the powerscaling dudebros and i get it on one hand, i do, it’s that like… excitement, right? there’s your favourite character and oh look! he’s going through it!!! or oh look!!! something is happening that could be taken in a shippy way and yayyy it’s so inspiring and fun/horrible and angst, let’s celebrate/mourn! but it’s just—it’s boring!!!! it’s boring, i find it boring. by the time the chapter’s released properly, no one ever wants to talk about it, because they’ve already had that conversation over third-party translated, paraphrased summaries. like?????? idk. it’s not part of the fandom that’s ever going to go away unfortunately, and i am complicit in it because i also read leaks but like—at this stage it’s a self-preservation tactic, because the alternative is to literally just not be online, or block half of the fandom!!!! and i don’t want to do that!!!!!! i want to be apart of things!!!!! i just want this fandom to be better at them!!!!!!!! ugh. everyone sucks LOL. love u tho i prommy… even when u annoy me LOL. 🫶🏽

[sobredunia]

Can i get some cool spanish language facts

The word with the most amount of meanings depending on phrase and context is balls (cojones)

Despite our mostly Latin roots due to the Roman invasion, we also got invaded by the moors, which implanted Arab words into our vocabulary (and gave us a ton of Arab buildings and Arab names to cities and towns but that's not the point). Some of my faves are "fulano", "aceite", "estrella", "almohada", "azafrán", "jarra", and "comino". They stand for "just some guy", "oil", "star", "pillow", "saffron", "jar with handles", and "cumin"

I. I had to use Google translate for that last word. What the fuck.

WAIT NO THAT'S NOT WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT I WAS TALKING ABOUT CARAWAY. BUT STILL WHY THE FUCK DOES THE WORD CUMIN ACTUALLY EXIST

Uh. Anyways.

A common insult throughout Spain and latam is "me cago en [x]", which stands for "I am shitting/going to shit on [x]" and then you just add whatever you want. The most common variations are shitting on family members or ancestors, but there are also other funny alternatives like

"me cago en la puta" (I am shitting on the whore)

"me cago en tu sombra" (I am shitting on your shadow)

"me cago en todo" (I am shitting on everything)

"me cago en la hostia" (I am shitting on the communion wafer)

Fun fact our word for communion wafer ("hostia") is actually a pretty common swear word with multiple meanings lmao. It's also used to describe a very specific way to hit someone

Which. Yeah. We have a lot of wonderful ways to insult someone and as a person who's fluent in both English and Spanish lemme tell you that Spanish is superior in the insult aspect hands down like y'all don't even come close to the shit we got going on in here

There is also this one phrase that we have when someone is so incredibly lucky it becomes hateable/ridiculous (that my mother says to me and my father a lot lol) which is "tener una flor en el culo"

It stands for "to have a flower in the ass"

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Tbh i didnt get the vibe that translator was into mc at all lol, they seemed like mutually beneficial business partners at most, w some dependency from mc ofc who is severely disabled in that world and translator trying to not get on 2718s shit list. I don't completely trust translator, unreliable narrator kinda vibes, but like in a self preserving way? Shes v self motivated to me. Idk i just feel like it would be the end of the world and there are 2 seconds until everything bursts into hot gas and translator goes oopsie btw i had the answer for this all along but i wanted to go out in a blaze of glory so here we are. Its translators world and we're all just forcibly living in it bc there are no other major means of communication :///. Also i wanna make theories but ur brain literally throws me a new one every time like ion even know where to begin so i wont lmao. And random but does the number 2718 have any personal significance to u? - 🐰

Damn thank u so much for ur interpretation on translator man u really gave her the read of her life, it was a really enjoyable read 4 me n im sure other readers would appreciate seeing yr opinon too 💯

Naa i actually googled up "FAMOUS NUMBERS USED IN MATHS" and intially i wanted to use 3141 (pi π, 3.14) but i was like naaa too cliche lets find a lesser known constant

And the second on the list is literallly Euler's number (e, 2.7182) i just said fuck it we ball and went with it, i just remoged the decimal point

When it comes to my ocs its like,, a product of halfassery, i coulr have taken the time to name them sensible names but i was like naah fuck dat i got the excuse of using numbers as an alien thing/alternate universe thing and i can literally name all the other characters in numbers-- provided that they're not too similar to each other cause i myself am bad at numbers

Plus if u notice i try to keep recurring characters to a minimum, so far theres only 4 known, but one of them got killed early on- reason being is nothing other than pure laziness to build the proper foundations and distinct traits for each character </3

So from this tidbit of info i think u guys can guess what the other yandere's name is gonna be <3

Thanks for reading my crap and analyzing it <333

[unfinishedbusincss]

New Muse: Margot Levi

I’m currently on mobile and ended up word vomiting at Orion pretty badly, which ended up in a new muse I wanna toss out there! There’s a lot of information that goes into her (semi-original) lore that needs to be established in order to make sense of her character traits, but I cannot stress enough how fully those traits translate into variants of her that can be played in AUs without needing knowledge of her lore. I will post her lore and link it here when I am back on my laptop, but do want to drop her backstory and basic information all the same, so we can get the ball rolling on her!

Legal Name: Margot Aeryn Levi Age: 31 SGP: ciswoman, she/her Orientation: lesbian Species: Familiar (lore) **open to any number of variations Alternate Form: Coyote Location: USA **see above note face: sofia black-d'elia

Powers:

Shift like all other familiars, margot is able to shift between two forms: her human shape and her familiar shape--in this case, a coyote.

Keep like all familiars, margot is able to trade abilities between forms. example: the increased capacity for smell and sound of the coyote as a human, higher consciousness as a coyote, etc.

Teleport like most other familiars, margot is able to teleport anywhere within eyesight, which pairs well with other powers of the familiar on bonding (lore).

Bond like all other familiars, margot is able to take (fuck that, it's) make the sacred bond with a witch. once made, the familiar will be soul-bonded to their chosen witch.

Personality:

most people around her would tell you margot is clearly insane. funnily enough, they would say so for two different reasons. for the supernatural beings around her, the role of the familiar is deeply engrained in their conscious, making margot's refusal to participate in the sacred oath seemingly unnatural. for the less fantastical beings around her, the demand to believe in magic without having it constantly proven is an absolute, making it an often bitter pill to swallow. either way, margot seems insane from the outside. truthfully, margot is a force to be reckoned with. against all odds, she has mastered the minor arts of tarot and token-casting--something many would have thought unusual if not outright impossible for a familiar. she has also discovered how to comfortably hold herself mid-shift and often uses this to her advantage. margot is determined to disprove the fallacies underpinning her identity as a familiar and has made it her life's mission not only to do that, but to help rid the world of monsters along the way--human or supernatural.

History:

Margot was born into a world that felt...carefully neutral about her. Like many of her kind, Margot was brought up without a real concept of family or authority or permanency or stability. Some of her peers were lucky, could shift into cute kitten or puppies or pass for normal human toddlers and be adopted legitimately. They were lucky. Margot could only shift into a coyote, and displayed too much magical attraction to be mistaken for anything human. By the time she aged out of the foster system, Margot began tracing her way back to the beginning using--get this--genetic ancestry tracking services. It was kind of wild, but it cut through a lot of the red tape before it quite caught up to her. She adopted a last more fitting of her family--Levi for her paternal grandmother, an immigrant to the country whose story awed Margot in light of all that she truly was. It was around this time that pressures began falling on Margot to bound with a witch--to do it before she "hits the wall," they began to say. Stirred by her grandmother's story, Margot refused the tradition, setting out to prove that the precedence set regarding familiars was not only objectively morally wrong, but also factually incorrect. These days, Margot can be found practicing as an independent witch--the human kind, who read tarot and use crystals, not the other one. She is an active member of her local supernatural community and is somewhat known for her refusal to bond with a witch.

[hoe4rairai]

The 36 Questions That Lead to Love 👀

| Raian Edition

1. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?Raian : me myself and I but you Cook . ( Raian language translation You & Me )

2. Would you like to be famous? In what way?

Raian: his rise an eyebrow & looks at you asking : What Way  ..REALLY ????

3. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?

Raian:  I spiT iT ouT .. ( he stresses on the Ts )

4. What would constitute a “perfect” day for you?

Raian : depends on my fuckin mood ..

5. When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?

Raian : while jacking off ( he proceeds to sing with the hand movement ) .... !!! Then he suddenly stops and looks at you with wild eyes ..FUCK

6. If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?

Raian: Body

7. Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?

Raian: nuh .. but i know I will meet u in hell * WINKS*

8. Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.

Raian: me & u ... Eshhh nothing .. Teases you, pouting his lips when he saw you pouting yours .

9. For what in your life do you feel most grateful?

Raian: HUH... ummmm ... that dumbass gramps

10. If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?

Raian: he looks serious then ignores the question but comes back with a low gruff ( nothin)

11. Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.

Raian: I Kill, I Kill , I kill, I kill, I kill, ...... then he just moves his hands in questioning with a sarcastic smile and a WDF are these shitty questions !!!.

12. If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

Raian : hell keeper and fuck all of u in one blow. Not you but everyone else, I still want to breed you ... at this moment he moved towards you and u were not ready OPPPS

AFTER A HEATED MAKE OUT SESSION ON THE COUCH....

WE SHALL PROCEEED .....

13. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?

Raian: I don't give a fuck .

14. Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?

Raian: hummm He's serious, destroy the worm and the fuckers .

15. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

Raian: he looks at himself pointing at himself flexing his body turning just a little purple and he freaked you out he says : ( I AM THE ACCOMPLISHMENT )

16. What do you value most in a friendship?

Raian: ........

17. What is your most treasured memory?

Raian: ......... I had a dog once ...

18. What is your most terrible memory?

Raian: ..... I killed the dog

19. If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?

Raian: Hell F*ck noewwwwwww . But you caught him gazing at the ceiling he took a deep breath and looked back at you suddenly with unreadable look.

20. What does friendship mean to you?

Raian: fuck with them and they fuck with me ... ( that's Raian's languag translated they have my back I have theirs)

21. What roles do love and affection play in your life?

Raian: he looks at you and answers Genuinely with a soft but harsh low voice : I don't know you tell me ....?

22. Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.

Raian: she can fight on her own, she is good in f*ckin , she cooks , she's hardworking,  she is mother fucking mine ...

23. How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?

Raian: Bitch I am bored ..

24. How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?

Raian : Bitch am fucking getting really bored 

25. Make three true “we” statements each. For instance, “We are both in this room feeling ... “

Raian: Bored, Hungry, Sleepy

26. Complete this sentence: “I wish I had someone with whom I could share ... “

Raian: my kills with.

27. If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.

Raian: I am an Assassin

28. Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met.

Raian: he looks at you and says ( You know so fuck off )

29. Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.

Raian: sitting here answering those fucked up question like a retard..The Fuck is Ohma at that Dubmass ..

30. When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?

Raian : do I look like a pussy to you .

31. Tell your partner something that you like about them already.

Raian : he wiggles his eyebrows and look at your body then licks his lips slowly while still looking up and down over ur body... by now u are about to run and hid from this hungry feral .

32. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?

Raian: messing with anything related to me.

33. If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?

Raian: I won't die ...

34. Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?

Raian : Gramps ashes

35. Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?Raian: pshhhhhh

36. Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.

Raian : I will solve this problem right right right now ...and he proceeds to snatch you off the chair and into his arms.

He loves you ... he just not good with words

[ana-benn]

I seriously want Jamie to just come and grab me, whipser in my ear that I'm his, that he owns me and always will. FUCK.

Holy FUCK...

I need a minute.....

Okay. This turned into a whole ass smutty, possessive, domineering fic. This totally messed up my planned fics too, but you know what? I don't even care. You send something like this you jump the line 🥵 So.... You're welcome?

Stupid Possessive Man

It's been well established that Jamie doesn't play nicely with others. But sometimes you have to remember that can translate off ice too. It all started because of stupid ego-centric male jealousy too. Which was both hot, and slightly annoying if you were honest. You loved seeing Jamie this worked up, but also hated feeling like a piece of meat. It was a strange place to be.

It had started innocently enough you'd shown up with Jamie to Tyler's BBQ, and immediately gotten swept up in his charisma. Tyler had shown you where you could stick your overnight bag, as he didn't want any of the team leaving afterwards, since everyone knew how much alcohol was involved in a Seguin party. He'd left you and Jamie to change into swimwear and went downstairs. You'd taken your suit into the bathroom to change, it didn't matter how many times he'd seen you naked if it wasn't sexual you just felt uncomfortable. Jamie knew this and gave you your space, while he changed in the bedroom.

You'd chosen a flattering bikini that was also actually functional for swimming, wanting to actually have fun, and a bright orange cover up.

(because olive and orange is hott, you can't change my mind... Also I bought this so yeah)

When you stepped out you felt Jamie give you a once over before he asked, "You didn't happen to pack something else did you? I'm going to have to fight my own teammates," you laughed, and handed him the sunscreen.

"Here, you'll be the lucky one who gets to touch first," you smirked at his little scowl. He took his time, and ran his fingers over your body, long after the lotion was absorbed.

"I'd better be the only one who gets to touch," he growled out in your ear.

You have him a cheeky wink, as you threw on your coverup, "Guess we'll see."

With that you walked downstairs towards the party, chuckling as Jamie grabbed the towels and headed down after you. It was so easy to rile him up at times. You made it downstairs and staked out a couple of tanning chairs for you and Jamie, although you knew at most he'd sit there for a little while with you before one of the guys pulled him somewhere for a man-contest Tyler's parties were known for.

Exactly as predicted you'd just flipped onto your stomach when Jamie was called over to have a ping pong contest. You rolled your eyes playfully and swatted him away. He gave you a big grin and jogged over to play. It wasn't long before several other guys and their wives or girlfriends showed up. You got to talking with them, comparing notes on what they'd been doing since the season ended. A few of the guys inevitably would wander over and check in, but for the most part the party was easily divided between guys and girls. It was almost comical how like highschool it felt.

Eventually you and a few of the other ladies got into the pool, which brought a few guys in. You noticed Jamie had disappeared, but quickly were pulling into a game. Tyler had the bright idea to play chicken, and Joe and Sarah were onboard. As the reigning champs from last summer, they felt confident.

Tyler came over to you as everyone started pairing off, "Come on, let's partner up. Jamie's inside kicking everyone's ass at Mario Kart." You smirked at that. He really was ruthless at any competition, and he definitely loved beating his teammates.

So you agreed, and climbed up on Tyler's shoulders. The next twenty minutes or so were spent with splashing and laughter as those of you who decided to play fought tooth and nail to stay up. You didn't even notice Jamie coming back outside, fresh off a Mario Kart ultimate victory. A particularly hard shove had you lock your ankles around Tyler, just as you noticed Jamie. The hard look in his eyes sent a very clear message though, he was jealous.

Now a good wife would've probably gone over and reassured him, a better wife probably wouldn't have even played the game with Tyler, but you weren't that kind of wife. You craved his raw power and dominance, and it sent a chill up your spine to know that the worse you made this the better it would be. If he was smarter you knew that he would've figured out by now when you were purposely pushing his buttons, but if he had one blind spot it was definitely in his ability to control the possessive jealousy that ran white hot in his veins. So you made it your mission to be a touchy feely as possible with anyone you could.

Tyler needs someone to help him with the grill? You were right there getting platters or whatever for him as you placed a gentle hand on his arm. Ben needed a new beer? All of a sudden you're feeling super hospitable and you jump up to grab him one, making sure to put a hand on his shoulder and bend down to hand it to him. Anton decided to do a cannon ball off the side of the pool? Obviously the splash would be bigger if you held hands and jumped together.

As it was right now you were laughing with Andrea, and sipping your most recent glass of sangria as she was telling you about their trip. You felt hands wrap around your waist, and startled slightly before you recognized the strong hands on your hips. You vaguely recognized Andrea smirk as she left you two alone.

Jamie stood like that for a moment, before leaning into your ear, "You're mine little girl, and I'm not letting you go. So here's what's going to happen, you're going to put my shirt on, and then we're going to sit with our friends around the fire pit. You're going to put your cute little ass in my lap, and I'm going to stuff you with my cock. If you're good, when we get upstairs I'm going to fuck you. Got it?"

You couldn't breathe, let alone speak, so you did exactly what he said. Grabbing your coverup as well to drape over your legs. When you made it back over to the group Jamie was already there, you did exactly what he's asked and sat on his lap. He manhandled you into the position he wanted, and once he'd stoped you placed the coverup over your legs.

"You cold?" Tyler asked.

Jamie took that moment to enter you, causing you to choke a little as you attempted to answer Tyler, "N-no just a little over exposed from the sun is all."

Jamie chuckled lowly, as you fought the urge to elbow him. He started easily conversing with his teammates, and you just quivered around him. You tried just leaning back into Jamie's body, but being enveloped in the smell of chlorine, beer, and campfire along with the musk that was just Jamie was too intense with his buried deep inside of you. You could feel the wetness dripping as you sat there and squirmed, trying to find a way to get comfortable in the situation.

Jamie leaned into your ear creating what looked like a sweet moment, though his words were anything but sweet, "Do you you think they know you're sitting here quivering on my cock? That your quivering and clenching around me like a desperate, needy whore?"

You almost whined, as Jamie pulled from you. A seamless movement that looked like a basic adjustment, "We're going to head up guys, see you in the morning." Jamie said pulling you up, and along with him. Those around you waved, and you noticed a couple gathering their things to follow you.

Jamie pulled you into the room, and as soon as the door closed he was on you. Lips attacking your skin as he peeled your clothes from your body. Possessive nips followed by soft kisses, as he backed you towards the bed. No foreplay needed after you'd spend the last half-hour on his cock, and you'd teased him all day.

As soon as he had you naked he was over you, thrusting up into you. He settled his lips over your jugular, and set to work marking your neck while he pounded into your soaked pussy. He was intense, and his hands alternated between caressing your body and coming back to your his where he would grab rough as he delivered random hard thrusts. It was animalistic and deliciously rough, so all you could do it was wrap your arms around his shoulders and spread your legs.

"Tell me who owns this tight little cunt," Jamie demanded harshly.

"You do," you whimpered, Jamie rewarded you with a harsh thrust.

"Again," he growled.

"God, Jamie please. I'm yours I'm all yours," you cried.

He smirked then as he doubled his efforts, "Then cum with me." You couldn't help but follow then, as Jamie trapped your cries in a searing kiss.

--------------------

The next morning when you got up you appraised yourself in the mirror "Jamie!" You gasped out, causing him to stick his head in the door.

"What's up?" He asked concerned.

"You left a purple hickey on my neck," you admonished.

"Guess you'll just have to wear my shirt instead of that tank top," he grinned.

"Stupid, possessive man," you groaned, causing Jamie to laugh as he tossed you his shirt.

[goldenraeofsun]

There is Only Try, Part I

“Love spell,” Rowena proclaims as she glides down the stairs to the Bunker floor like it’s her personal ballroom. Her midnight blue floor-length gown and elaborately curled hair look especially out of place - Dean’s pretty sure his shirt has pizza stains from at least three different pizzas. The shirt is red, so at least two of them don’t count.

Behind her on the stairs, Sam chokes.

Rowena turns around to face him. “And I thought this was going to be a challenge,” she chides. “Really, Samuel?”

“What do you mean, ‘love spell’?” Dean demands with a fleeting glance at Cas, who’s gone red in the face. Dean doesn’t blame him - between the hooker with the daddy problems and the stabby reaper, he’d be leery of anything vaguely love-shaped too.

“We called you because we need to translate the runes on a cursed box,” Sam says slowly. “We think it’s in some sort of cipher, since even Cas can’t get a read on it.”

“Well, did Tweety Pie touch the box?”

“No,” Cas says, offended.

Dean nudges him with his elbow, saying in an undertone, “C’mon, like it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Dean.”

Dean takes in Cas’s unamused face and scowls at Rowena's tinkling laugh. “Okay, Sabrina, what the fuck do you mean by ‘love spell’?”

“I mean the angel’s been cursed with a love spell,” Rowena says with deliberate slowness, like she’s giving a command to a particularly stupid lap dog. “Was it not obvious?”

Dean glances at Cas, horror trickling down his spine. “No.”

“Hmph,” Rowena sniffs. “Men really are oblivious to matters of the heart.” She waves her hand again, eyes glimmering violet. “Like I thought,” she continues, placing both hands on her hips, “A jardin d’amour.”

“A garden of,” Sam pauses, clearly trying not to laugh, “love?”

“A very basic love spell,” Rowena says disdainfully. “The lass didn’t seem to have any imagination.”

“The witch we ganked two weeks ago was a dude,” Dean says. A beat. “A man witch.”

Sam snorts.

“There you go,” Rowena says, lifting her nose into the air. “Most men don’t have that innate knack for the magical arts.” She turns to Sam, giving him the most obvious come-hither look Dean has ever seen. “There are some obvious exceptions, of course.”

Okay, Dean needs Rowena and her heebs with a large dosing of the jeebs out of the Bunker, stat.

“It starts as a tiny seed, a wee obsession,” Rowena explains, “and grows and grows until it consumes you.” She squints, wiggling her fingers, and Dean just barely stops himself from jumping in front of Cas on instinct. “I’d say the spell’s gone about halfway through its course.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. He throws another calculating glance at Cas. “He’s not writing love songs or grabbing a boombox, so he’s obviously not cursed.”

Cas, still suspiciously silent, shoves both his hands in his pockets and stares hard at a spot of the floor between his feet.

“Oh, but he is, darlin’,” Rowena exclaims delightedly. “I can see it clear as day. Look!”

Cas sneezes as the magic washes over him for a third time, and now they all can see the purple sparkles - really, Rowena? - hovering in the air around him.

“Okay,” Dean makes a face, “Now I’m confused.”

“Not for the first time, isn’t that right?” Rowena says with faux-sympathy.

Dean glowers. He turns to Cas. “Come on, she’s making this all up. You’d know if you got dosed with Love Potion No. 9.”

“I-” Cas says, his gaze skittering from Dean to Rowena and back again. He looks… caught.

“Wait,” Dean thunders, taking a step forward, “You knew?”

“I,” Cas starts haltingly, “had suspected.”

“And you didn’t think you’d tell us you’d been whammied?”

Cas shrugs. “It doesn’t seem to be affecting me at all. My vessel is functioning normally.”

“Sure, because you’re such an expert on normal-”

Cas’s eyes flash. “It didn’t seem relevant considering everything else-”

“What d’you mean every-?”

“Kelly Kline - Lucifer, again - the British Men of Letters - take your pick,” Castiel retorts heatedly.

“We’ve got that under control-”

“Killing a child is not ‘under control’-”

“It is if the kid’s the literal spawn of Satan-”

“I never thought I’d hear Dean Winchester defending the murder of an inno-”

Dean throws up his hands. “Did you miss my ‘spawn of Satan’ comment?”

“No,” Cas says, his expression as stony as the Bunker’s foundations, “my hearing is excellent.”

Off to the side, Rowena mutters in a carrying stage-whisper, “I can see how a wee curse like this is the least of your problems.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Sam says, running a weary hand down his face.

Dean rounds on them. “What?”

“Do you want me to remove the love spell or not?” Rowena asks, eyebrows raised. “My time is precious, you know. I don’t live to be at the Winchesters’ beck and call.”

“For the last fucking time, it’s not a goddamn spell!” Dean explodes. “Whatever it is, he is not in love. He hasn’t been acting any different.”

Rowena beams. “Well now, if he were already in love, it would have no outward effects. He’d…” Her expression becomes stomach-turningly sly, “...function normally, so to speak.”

Cas’s mouth sets in a firm line. As Dean goggles at him, Cas demands, “Remove the spell, now.”

Dean swallows. Cas can’t be - she can’t be implying - that’s impossible. He’s an angel. They don’t feel things like that.

Do they?

“I’m going to need some ingredients,” Rowena says, looking up to Sam. “Where might they be?”

Sam gestures her forward. “Back in the store room, I’ll show you.”

Rowena pats him lightly on the arm. “What a gentleman,” she simpers as Dean pretends to hurl behind her back.

Dean can’t bring himself to speak until they’re both out of earshot, their footsteps fading off into the distance. He turns to Cas, trying to keep his voice detached and failing miserably. “So, you think it got you after all?”

Cas looks away. “I know it has.”

“Oh.” Dean picks up his empty whiskey glass. He runs a hand down his face, trying to scrub away whatever he’s feeling. It doesn't work. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. Fucking witches.”

“I - I could use one as well,” Cas says to Dean’s surprise.

* * *

“So, uh, who’s the lucky chick?” Dean asks as he makes a beeline for the liquor cart in the library off the war room. He grabs an additional glass for Cas and the bottle of Jack, tips the bottle down his own throat to get them started, and pours them out a few fingers.

Cas takes his drink, jaw clenching. He doesn’t look like a dude head over heels. He looks like his normal sleep-deprived, tax accountant self. He stays silent.

Dean thumps heavily down into a chair. “Have we met her?” he prompts because he’s nothing if not a masochist at heart.

“You could say so, in a sense.” Cas raises his eyes to meet Dean’s, face softening, and Dean’s going to hurl for real this time. Cas continues, “There’s not much in my life I keep from you.”

Dean swallows against the ball of self-loathing and disgust clogging his throat. “Some lady angel, then? Been dreaming about plucking her harp strings?”

Cas scowls into his drink. “No.”

“Not an angel?”

“Not a lady,” Cas says, his voice almost unbearably stiff. “And not an angel, either. A human - a beautifully flawed human.”

Dean has no words to say to that, so he drinks. Cas has probably met thousands of people - nice, normal people who aren’t fucked up in the head from ganking monsters their whole lives - since he’s been on Earth. God knows, he hasn’t been plastered to Dean’s side the entire time. Lately, Dean can’t even come up with a good excuse to get him to stay for more than a day or two at most.

“A guy, then,” Dean says to make sure they’re on the same page - because last time he checked, waves of celestial intent cared less about acing a Gender and Sexuality 101 class and more about whether a meatsuit could withstand a holy oil molotov cocktail.

Cas nods, his eyes narrowing. “Your opinion on homosexual relationships is part of the reason I’ve never brought it up before.”

“Hey, I don’t judge,” Dean says, not entirely truthfully. He holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Homo it up, man. Love is love.”

Cas’s nose wrinkles, but he doesn’t comment on Dean’s hamfisted attempt at proving his acceptance of ‘alternative lifestyles’ as Dad might’ve put it charitably one time. “It’s complicated,” Cas adds, like any part of this fucked-up situation could fit under a goddamn Facebook status.

Dean hitches a grin on his face that probably wouldn’t fool a blind person. “So, apart from that, how come you’ve never come to me for help? I don’t wanna brag, but I’m kind of an expert in hookups. Sam’s kind of hopeless. He can’t get a chick into bed without her dying on him.”

Cas knocks back his glass. “I didn’t want to bother you with my feelings.”

Dean automatically grimaces at the mention of feelings. But, hell, he’s not a teenage girl. He can man up and be there for his best friend.

He has to - Cas hardly asks him for anything anymore.

Sure, Cas didn’t exactly ask Dean for anything this time around, but Dean can read between the lines. Now that he’s copped to what’s going on beneath Cas’s still waters, he can see how deep those feelings run. Especially if what Rowena’s saying is true and a love spell is barely a drop in the bucket.

“And, regardless, your ‘hookup’ skills wouldn’t be relevant, anyway,” Cas says quietly, lowering his hands. “I’m not interested in… coupling.”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “That reaper really screwed you over, didn’t she? Look, just because you got shanked, doesn’t mean all sex winds up with an angel blade-”

“I misspoke,” Cas says over him. “What I mean is, I would rather have no sexual relations at all if I cannot have all of him: mind, body, and soul.”

Trust Cas to spout the most profound cheese Dean has ever heard.

And also, what the fuck? Dean can’t get behind that idea at all. Dean’s always been a take what you can get kind of dude. He had to be, with what he has to work with - a pretty face, a killer's instinct, and an inability to have a normal relationship if his goddamn life depended on it.

Like, if Dean had gotten the slightest whiff that Cas was down with gettin’ down and dirty with Dean as his last hurrah (which of course he didn’t), Dean would never have bothered with that stupid den of inequity. As hilarious as the outcome was, he would have gone for a little something-something for himself before the end of the world.

Of course, Dean wasn’t in love with Cas yet then. Whenever it came to mind, it was just a fun thought experiment, an idle what if for him to think about during a dry spell. Like his fantasies about fucking Ginger from Gilligan’s Island. Or hatesex with Bela Talbot.

But none of that mattered because every step of the way from Castiel, mighty Angel of the Lord, to Cas, their friendly neighborhood angel-man, he never hinted he’d be down for a quick roll in the hay... or something more serious.

Dean remembers very clearly: Anna fell to experience emotions, even the bad ones.

And Dean’s not an idiot - Cas obviously experiences emotions now. Dude’s been through too much not to feel something. But Dean’s never deluded himself that they could ever include all the romantic lovey-dovey, chick-flick moments crap.

Family love, sure. Cas might love all his haloed siblings. Cas has been around for all the Top 10 worst decisions that are the Winchesters’ version of brotherly devotion. Cas even said the big L-word out loud himself, when he was bleeding out in that barn a month ago.

But romantic love? The big kahuna L-O-V-E?

Dean always thought scaling Mount Everest with a plastic beach shovel would be easier than convincing an angel to feel that way about anyone. Cas is a wave of celestial intent; waves of celestial intent don’t do anything as human, as stupid, as fall in love.

But apparently they do.

So maybe that’s why Cas has always been so hard to pin down, so eager to leave Dean all the time. He’s been off pining after this mystery guy.

Awesome.

Cas heaves a weighty sigh and finishes off his own glass of whiskey. Without another word, he half raises from his chair, reaching around the table lamp, to pour them both a second round. “I suppose there is a bit of a relief in finally saying it,” he says in a low voice. “I can’t be with him, but there is a certain amount of happiness in it being known, just being seen.”

Dean wastes no time in downing half his new drink. Throat burning in warning, he forces out, “Why - why can’t you? You’re a freaking angel - thought you could have anyone.” Dean frowns. “He’s not a civilian, is he?”

Talk about a recipe for disaster: Cas plus normal person equals uncomfortable questions and fucked up babysitting gigs.

Cas’s eyes widen. Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head. “Ah, no, not really.”

“So he knows about angels.”

Cas gives a slow nod. “He doesn’t have a very high opinion of them, though,” he says ruefully, staring down into his glass. “They’ve made his life very difficult over the past few years.”

Dean scoffs, “He can join the club.”

Cas flinches.

“Hey, no,” Deans says quickly, “Not you.”

Cas raises head, his eyes unbearably bleak. “Why not me? I was the one who set the Leviathans and angels loose on humanity to wage their wars, among a dozen other transgressions.” He adds morosely, “Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if a different angel rescued you from Hell after all.”

Dean blinks at Cas, his stomach turning over with dread at the very idea. He tries to picture some nameless angel yanking him out of the Pit or marching into that barn with all the righteousness of Heaven on his heels. Dean can’t do it.

Or worse, not a nameless angel. Uriel, who was ready to kill thousands without a second thought. Zachariah, that dickwad with the mind games. Even Hannah, who Dean reluctantly liked - he still can’t see her sticking by their side, falling, sacrificing everything for them.

Cas is their third wheel, the stabilizer that keeps Team Free Will upright and moving forward. Without him, they’re a tandem bicycle, and nobody wants a repeat of that opening scene from Gabriel’s sitcom from Hell.

“Yeah, but at least you always tried to do the right thing.”

“There is no try, only what I did or did not do,” Cas answers with a strange, defeated expression.

“Okay, but,” Dean starts, rolling his eyes at Cas’s butchered Star Wars reference, “Yoda’s a lot of things, but applicable to the real world without space lasers, he is not. Sometimes the only thing you can do is try, dude.”

God knows, Dean could never have forgiven Cas for any of the shit he pulled if he hadn’t been 100% positive Cas had the best of intentions. Cas did all those things to save the world, and, sometimes, to save Dean personally. Which gives him the girliest, fuzzy feelings and also makes him want to punch a wall.

Cas throws him a pitying look. “Every time I ‘try’ to make things better, I fail.” He shakes his head. “When you were taken, I searched for months to find you. Kelly escaped on my watch, and I couldn't find her. I’m a… dumbass.”

“I thought you preferred ‘trusting,’” Dean jokes, and it only sounds a little forced.

Cas throws him an exasperated look. “Perhaps a few years ago. But now? I’ve made too many mistakes, and people have suffered - you and Sam have suffered - as a result. You don’t need to spare my feelings, Dean. It’s hardly what I deserve.”

Dean frowns, tapping his fingers against his glass as he takes in Cas's defeated air. “Hey, what’s with the pity party?”

“It’s not a ‘pity party’,” Cas counters. “These are basic facts.”

Dean leans forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “You aren’t serious.”

Cas stares back. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dean rakes his gaze up and down Cas’s face, looking for a break, for a tell - even though he knows he won’t find any. “You saved the world. A couple of times by now.”

“I also personally put it in jeopardy more than once,” Cas mutters. “I trusted Crowley to steal Purgatory. I trusted Metatron to bring peace to Heaven. I trusted Lucifer to take out the Darkness.”

Dean’s heart sinks with every reminder of Cas’s greatest hits. “Come on…”

Cas’s mouth thins, lips pressing together as he raises his glass to his mouth. “You don’t need to stay to keep me company, either,” he says in a low voice. “I’m the one under the spell. If you have anything more pressing, I can wait here for Rowena.”

“Shut up,” Dean says automatically. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Cas exhales a weighty sigh, his shoulders losing some of their tension.

“Hey, what you need - hell, what we both need - is a win,” Dean says reassuringly. “Everything’s been such shit, you need a reminder to keep going.” He gets up from his seat, his legs itching to move. “Why don’t you tell me more about that man of yours?” he asks quickly, his words nearly tripping over themselves to get out before the regret sets in. “Maybe that’s the key to getting your head back in the game.”

Cas doesn’t say anything as Dean moves to peruse a row of books he has no intention of ever reading. Eventually, Cas protests without much conviction, “My head is in the game. I am still useful.”

Dean’s head jerks around so fast it nearly gives him whiplash. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It isn’t?” Cas asks, head tilting in confusion.

Dean makes a face. “I mean, if you’re feeling down, you… shouldn’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dean paces to the other end of the bookshelf, unbelievably annoyed at Cas for making him spell it out for him. “Forget it,” Dean says instead. “I still owe you for ganking Billie-”

“But the cosmic consequences-”

“Will suck, but in the meantime you saved our lives. I owe you.” Dean turns so he’s back to fully facing Cas. “So, tell me what this mystery guy is into.”

Cas’s eyes narrow at him. “I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Seriously?”

Cas straightens and nods.

“But,” Dean says, words failing as he wars with himself. He could push Cas for more info or keep on living in blissful ignorance. But if he has to choose between his own personal peace of mind or Cas experiencing the one pinnacle of human happiness (or so Dean’s been told in countless chick flicks he’ll take to the grave), it’s no choice at all. He starts again, “If you tell me about him, it’ll make this a lot easier.”

“I don’t want it to be easier,” Cas says, baffled. “I don’t want this to be anything.”

Dean gapes. “Why the hell not?”

Cas taps his empty glass on the table, irritated. “Please, leave it alone.”

“No,” Dean says mulishly. “I wanna help you, man.”

“I don’t want any help.”

“Well, tough shit because you’re getting it anyway. You’re family-”

Cas’s face does a weird spasm.

“-And that’s what you do for family,” Dean continues, a little confused and insulted. They are family; Cas said so, back when he thought he was dying in Ramiel’s barn.

“Drop it.”

“No,” Dean argues, shoving down everything else as his temper rises. “You’re hurtin’, and I can help. Why don’t you trust me? You trusted Crowley, Metatron, fucking Lucifer-”

Too far. Shit.

Cas whirls around, his face a mask of frustration and an emotion Dean has never seen before. “I did, and you know what? They screwed me. And, please forgive me, Dean, but I am tired of being used and used up, over and over.”

Dean blinks, his anger falling away to a raw hurt only Cas can dredge up. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Cas runs a weary hand down his face. He just shakes his head.

“C’mon, Cas, it’s me,” Dean says - pleads, really. “You know me better than anyone else, ’cept Sammy. I won’t do something like that.”

Cas glares. “I do know you, so I know that is exactly what will happen.”

Dean reels back, and he can’t save himself in time before an undoubtedly pained look spreads across his face.

Cas’s hostility cracks, but Dean’s already gotten the message.

So Cas’s one big happy loving family message was only a deathbed thing. That’s… fine. Dean’s done it himself, a time or two. Told Sam to live his life and not go looking for revenge or a way to fix it - all a crock of horse shit, of course. He should’ve figured Cas was more human than angelic with that poison pumping through his veins, making him all weak and sweaty. ’Course he wasn’t above feeling human sentimentality in his death throes.

Face hardening, Dean turns on his heel. “You were right about one thing. I guess I do have more important things to do than staying here with you.”

“Dean,” he hears behind him, but Dean doesn’t look back.

* * *

Dean always hides a spare bottle of booze in the bottom drawer of the desk in his bedroom. It's mostly empty, but, hopefully, by the time Dean's polished it off, Cas’ll be cured, Rowena will be gone, and they all can pretend this never happened - Dean can pretend that Cas stopped keeping secrets because he’s learned they always blow up in his face in the past six years.

Anyway.

First, the booze.

Dean’s barely wrestled the top off with shaking fingers of leftover anger when a knock sounds against his door.

“’S the witch gone yet?” Dean asks without lifting his head.

The door opens. “Dean, it’s me.”

Dean takes a long pull of whiskey.

Cas sighs, audible in the stuffy, tension-filled space between them. He doesn’t approach, instead hovering in the doorway, and isn’t that how it always goes? Always poised for flight, that’s Cas. “Dean,” he repeats, which only makes Dean's blood boil that much hotter.

“What?” he demands. “What do you want now? ’Cause I can’t think of a single thing you need from me, Cas.”

Cas presses his lips together. “You’re making this very difficult.”

“Me?” Dean barks incredulously. “You’re the one hiding things and not letting me help you.”

“You won’t accept this is one area in which you can’t help?” Cas asks quietly.

Dean makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat.

Cas shakes his head, his gaze focusing on Dean’s face with his patented laser intensity. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“Yeah, I’m just a jackass who can’t get a lady to stick around for more than a few hours. I get it.” He glances up to see Cas’s stricken expression. Frowning, Dean looks away.

Cas steps tentatively into Dean’s room, his face weirdly apprehensive. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Sure,” Dean says, tipping the bottle back like it’s water because he needs to be so much drunker to deal with Cas and his love spell bombshells right now.

Cas hovers awkwardly by Dean’s desk, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. “You’re so capable of love.”

“Cas-” Dean starts, but he has no idea where he’s going with this.

Cas keeps talking, thank God. “You don’t acknowledge that side of you very often, but I feel it every time we see each other, every time you’re with your brother. You care, you love, so wholly and completely.” Cas chuckles ruefully. “I didn’t realize it for a few years. I didn’t see how unique it was, how special you are, but you are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.”

Dean’s tongue finally unsticks from the roof of his mouth. Face flaming hotter than the inferno where he first met Cas eight years ago, he rasps out, “Cas - what the hell are you saying?”

Cas swallows, dragging his gaze back up to meet Dean’s wide eyes. “The reason I didn’t tell you about the love spell was because it couldn’t make me love you any more than I already do.”

Dean blinks, dumbfounded, at Cas, the words love you bouncing around his skull like a blocked radio signal. Cas said them; Dean heard them with his own two ears; but the meaning behind the words is getting lost in transmission.

As Dean’s brain struggles to make sense of just about everything, Cas nods once. “Well, now you know. I’ll go wait for Rowena’s cure in the kitchen.”

And then he leaves.

Dean slams the whiskey bottle down on his desk, cursing as it nearly topples over in his haste. He sets it right, swearing more as precious seconds pass by. He hurtles down the hall, half-convinced Cas lied to him to get a head start and is really halfway to Timbuktu.

But Dean finds Cas in the library, sitting more or less where he left him before Dean had his little wallowing session in his bedroom.

“Cas!” Dean blurts, skidding to a halt and grabbing onto the edge of the table for support.

Cas looks up, frowning. “I - “ he gives himself a little shake and starts again, “Is Rowena having trouble with the spell?”

“What?” Dean strides forward on shaky legs. “No - I mean, I don’t know. They could be fucking in a supply closet for all I care.”

Cas’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. For the first time today, he looks almost afraid. “Then why are you here?” he asks, his gaze darting towards the stairs to the exit. “I’m only going to stay in the Bunker until Rowena can finish. Then I will go.”

“Go?” Dean repeats, a spike of panic shooting up his spine. “You can’t.”

Cas inhales a sharp breath. “You want me to stay?”

“You want to bail?” Dean demands, his voice rising.

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “You’re upset. This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“I’m not fucking upset!”

Cas throws him an unimpressed look. “You clearly are. Your pulse is rising. Your pupils are dilated. I can smell your elevated levels of adrenaline.”

Dean makes a face. “Dude - lines - crossed.”

“Fine,” Cas says, his face set. He gets up. “I can coordinate with Rowena at a later date. She should focus on the cursed box, anyway. It’s clearly a more pressing concern and the reason we called her in the first place.”

“Hey.” Dean takes a step forward. “Wait.”

Cas’s mouth sets in a thin line. “What do you want, Dean? I did as you asked. I told you the spell could only latch onto my feelings for you.”

Dean falters, his words failing him.

Cas’s shoulders slump. “I did warn you, you know,” he murmurs, trying to pass Dean on his way towards the door.

Dean grabs onto Cas’s bicep before he can disappear. “Gimme a moment. What you said - it’s a lot.”

Miracle of miracles, Cas stops.

Dean can practically feel the power thrumming underneath the trench coat sleeve in his grip, but Cas wordlessly lets Dean guide him back to the library table.

“Okay,” Dean starts, his head still mercilessly void of the right thing to say, “So that guy, the one you’re - well, it’s - he’s me?” he asks, stumbling over his words like he hasn’t since that one time Rhonda Hurley opened her underwear drawer.

Cas nods once, his face impossibly solemn.

“Right,” Dean grunts. He rubs at his chin, Cas watching the whole while. “That’s - wow.”

“Quite,” Cas says wryly.

“Hey, don’t be a dick,” Dean shoots back. “I had no idea.”

“That was the point,” Cas sighs. “But now you do.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, feeling like a tongue-tied idiot. If only he could be more like Cas with the grand declarations.

Cas opens his mouth, pausing for a beat before saying, “I was never intending to leave permanently. I will still help you figure out how to deal with Kelly Kline. I will still assist with research, translations, anything you need.” His blue eyes bore into Dean’s face. “I can still be useful.”

Dean’s chest aches. “Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t about that?” he asks gruffly.

Cas’s earnest expression falters. “Of course,” he says, subdued. “Regardless, know that I am always willing to help the Winchesters.”

“Jesus,” Dean mutters, “This isn’t - it’s never been - about you being goddamn useful.” He huffs an exasperated breath, frowning harder as Cas doesn’t immediately get it and launch himself at Dean.

God, that would make this so much easier.

“What you want?” Dean says, glaring daggers at the tabletop between them, “That whole, mind, body, soul crap? You got it.”

Cas blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“You already have it,” Dean says through gritted teeth.

Cas cocks his head like a perplexed chicken, still as clueless as ever.

It’s clearly time to bring out the big guns. If Cas is going to spout pretty speeches that steal Dean’s breath away and leave him weak-kneed but not actually, you know, make a move, Dean will just have to do everything himself.

Fine. That’s how he’s always operated, anyway.

Face determined, he leans over and grasps the lapels of Cas’s trench coat.

Cas leans back a fraction, his eyes widening in alarm or shock. But before he can utter another word, Dean brings their mouths together.

Cas takes a moment to get with the program. There’s a split-second (that lasts several years) when Cas almost seems to push Dean off him, but he kisses back before Dean can yank himself away first. Cas’s mouth is tentative against Dean’s, like he’s waiting for Dean to end it all and yell, “Got ya!”, but he unseals his lips with a light sigh as Dean gently parts them with his tongue.

Dean unclenches one hand from Cas’s lapel. He reaches up to cup Cas’s jaw, the raspy stubble a physical reminder of the goddamn win he’s finally getting. His knees twinge from awkwardly leaning over, but rampaging Leviathans could burst into the kitchen and Dean wouldn’t give any less of a fuck.

He has Cas right where he wants him, and he’s going to fucking savor it for as long as he can.

When Cas pulls away, his face shows nothing but pure confusion. “Why?” he breathes, raising a finger to touch his lips.

Dean, still half-standing, half-leaning over him, frowns. He falls back to his seat with a thump. “Because you weren’t going to do it first?”

Cas blinks. “I didn’t think you wanted anything like that,” he pauses, “with me.”

Like there’s anyone else around who wants to get real up close and personal with the most dumbass angel in the garrison.

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, the faintest inklings of embarrassment creeping in now they’re not kissing anymore and Cas’s first reaction isn’t to look like he got free tickets to Disneyland. “I did. Do.”

“Oh.”

Dean swallows past the lump in his throat.

Cas looks away from Dean for the first time, and Dean dies a little inside. Stiffy, Cas says, “If this is some misguided attempt to show your sympathy for my situation. I don’t appreciate the gesture.”

“Gesture?” Dean echoes, “What the hell are you on, man? I don’t kiss random dudes because I feel bad for them, Christ.”

“Then why?”

Dean grimaces. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Yes,” Cas says quickly, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s face. “I have misunderstood your actions in the past, and I have no desire to do it again.”

Dean groans. “Look, I didn’t think angels could have feelings like that.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Or I would’ve… done something about it sooner,” he says, and that’s mostly true. Probably would’ve tried to seduce Cas, failed, and then jumped off a cliff, but Cas doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, normal angels can’t,” Cas says, “but there’s something broken in me.”

“You’re not broken,” Dean swears loudly, his anger flaring. “You’re… better. A new and improved God Squad, far as I can tell.” He narrows his eyes, daring Cas to talk shit about himself one more time.

Cas bites his lip. “You truly mean it.”

Dean tries for a mocking leer, but it comes out more like a dopey, hopeful smile. “You wanna get it engraved? Put up in neon in the Dean cave?” he asks, eyebrows raised as excitement courses through his veins. Cas loves him. Dean can make good on all those what ifs that have been plaguing him for years. “Tattooed on my ass?”

Cas chuckles lightly. “That would be a start.”

Dean lets out a bark of laughter. He can already feel the insecurities looming on the horizon. There’s always a catch: Cas never stays; Cas might want Dean now, but he’ll fly away the moment Dean fucks up because he has no idea what he’s doing.

But none of that matters right now.

He kissed Cas.

And Cas didn’t smite him. Didn't tell him to fuck off. Didn't flutter off to the moon for shits and giggles.

Cas knows him, knows him better than anyone except Sam. And despite all the fucked up shit in Dean's head, Cas is staying anyway, with his eyes wide open like nobody else Dean has ever been with.

Cas smiles in return. “If I had known a love spell would result in this outcome, I would have sought out that witch ages ago.”

And just like that, all Dean’s happy-ending fantasies come to a screeching halt.

Read Part II here!

[goldenroutledge]

hear me out okay. qb!topper gets injured and the reader is in the stands of course watching the game and they are trying not to freak out because topper is taking a little long to get back up. basically what i'm saying is something along the lines of what happens in high school musical 3 when troy gets hurt

man down

pairing: qb!topper x reader

word count: 0.5k

warning(s): mentions of injury, swearing

a/n: thanks for requesting tori!! i havent even watched hsm i had to look this scene up

topper thornton masterlist

© goldenroutledge || do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work in any way

Cool, fluorescent stadium lights shone on the Kildare Academy’s football field. It was the last homecoming game for you and the rest of your senior classmen, and they all came out in droves. Most of your classmates, you included, wanted to soak up every last bit of the high school experience before graduation.

Of course you just wanted to see Topper play, him being the center of your thoughts most of the night. Currently the scoreboard read ‘4:25’ left on the clock in the fourth quarter. Kildare was down 42-38, and all you could do was hope they would bring it home. Kildare had possession of the ball, and it seemed like everyone was on the edge of their seat watching their team intensely.

The ball was snapped back to Topper, who was just lining up to throw the ball to his wide receiver. All of a sudden, he was sacked by a lineman from the opposition. The crunch of the tackle could be heard throughout the stadium, the opposite side cheering as Topper hit the turf.

You gasped, followed by a few curses under your breath as your vision focused in on Topper. “Damn, he was hit pretty hard, huh?” Kourtney commented nervously from beside you.

You hummed in response, your eyes not being able to peel away from the scene. The other players had backed off as Topper layed on the ground, breathing heavily. A coach ran to his aid to check on him, and you could only wish you were able to hear what the conversation consisted of.

There were many pairs of eyes on Topper, but yours filled the most concern and worry. Your eyes carefully followed his movements as Cody helped him up, and he was back on his feet. People were cheering around you, now hopeful again that they could win the game.

You let out a huge sigh of relief once Topper looked your way and nodded, a silent gesture telling you he was okay. Nerves calming down, you were able to sit back a little and breathe. Unbeknownst to you, during the remainder of the game you had zoned out a little bit, the image of Topper on the ground replaying in your head on a loop. Sure he had been tackled before, but each time he hesitated to get up, it rattled you.

The rush of Kildare students cheering at the end of the game brought you back to reality, happy your boyfriend was able to make it through without severe injury. You met him in the hallway outside the locker rooms like you always did, throwing your arms around him once he was in reachable distance. “Congratulations, baby.”

He pressed a wet kiss to your cheek “Thanks, darling. I can’t believe we fucking did that.” You only nodded your head in response, arms still around him as tight as you started. “You good, babe? You never wanna be this close to me after a game.” Topper quipped. He frowned at the expression on your face.

“I’m fine. You just scared me a little, that’s all. Glad you’re okay.” You gave him a sympathetic smile to which he returned.

“Aww, I’m okay, baby. Just got the wind knocked outta me, that’s all.” He rubbed his thumb over your cheek, admiring your concern for him.

“Okay.” You settled, lips curling into a smile under your boyfriend’s touch.

“Now, cheer up, mama. We got a win to celebrate.” He winked, slinging his arm around your shoulders and leading you out of the building.

a/n: y’all idk much about football so don’t come for me. im thinking about writing an alternate blurb where he actually is injured, would y’all like to see that?

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @rosylinn @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @freddymaybank @annab-nana @babeyglo @sunsetholland @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences

topper taglist: @vintageobx

[stanknotstark]

Astral Pt. 10 (Loki x Reader)

So im out eating right now so ill add the link to the last part in an hour and stuff also I did not beta read this part and apologize if I need to change something later on but I want to try and keep up with posting at 5:30 so im releasing it 🤗

Alright we finally have some actions and many open ended questions that I’ve got to close up BUT we also experience one of our main villains warriors. If you read the comics you’ll immediately know who the main villain is (Or Google it but I suggest not doing that if you want to be surprised :p)

You knew having peace and hanging out with your team and Loki would only last for so long, but you were still saddened when it came time to finally work. 

You’re all on the top most floor of the Avenger’s tower, the War Room as Tony called it (sounds a bit over dramatic but it was Tony so...). Fury is there in hologram mode, sitting in the middle of a large custom made table that had the Avengers logo engraved into the middle of the dark oak. 

“What kind of readings are we talking about?” Stark asks Fury. 

Fury’s hand comes up and swipes at something invisible on his end and it translates to Stark’s theater size screens on the wall. It’s a bunch of graphs, statistics, and other jargon you can’t understand. You raise a brow when Tony and Bruce gasp and start talking in hushed tones to each other. 

“Tony, make this english so everyone can understand what’s going on, please?” Steve asks. 

Tony clears his throat and points to one of the graphs, “According to Fury’s collected data, Thor give Jane a big hug when you next see her, they’ve picked up on some form of energy spikes in the middle of Death Valley, Nevada. Like we’re talking colossal size spikes. ”

You look at Loki who sits up in his chair next to you and squints at the screens.

“I know what these ‘energy’,” Loki says energy like it’s disgusting, “readings are. It’s magic from another realm. Specifically, it’s time travel but...” Loki frowns and you watch as his eyes become almost fearful.

“Spit it out, Reindeer Games.” Tony says, sounding concerned at Loki’s fear.

“It’s time travel across an alternate timeline.” 

Tony blinks. Bruce frowns and pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. The entire room is silent. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know who caused these readings would you?” Tony finally asks. 

Loki, who has a neutral face now and the fear is gone from his eyes, shakes his head. “I can’t know for sure unless I can inspect the magic in person.” 

Finally Fury speaks, you had almost forgot the director was even here. “Prepare a quin jet Stark, get Loki and whoever else you deem reliable to escort. We need to figure out who came for a visit and if they’re ally or enemy as soon as possible.”

Fury disappears from the table and Tony gets into worker mode immediately. He points to you, claiming you’re the close combat person, to Clint, who is your ranged fighter, and to Natasha who would be pilot and your extraction. 

Things become a blur after that. You remember going to your room and jumping into your Shield issued attire (Stark had yet to make you your own suit), and meeting Loki at the roof where a quin jet readied for take off. Before you walked into the quin jet Loki stopped you, his hands holding your shoulders making you face him. 

“I promise that I will let nothing harm you, you’re my first priority and if things get violent I will teleport us away to safety.” 

You nod but give him a small smile, “I can handle myself but it’s good to know I’ve got someone watching my back.” You then push onto your toes and give Loki a peck and make your way to the quin jet. 

The ride there is tense and quiet. Loki says he’s putting a spell on you that acts as a shield but doesn’t specify how it works.

Looking back you wish you would have asked how it worked. 

Landing around 100 meters from the destination Clint, Loki and you leave the ship and begin your trek to the site. 

“Holy fuck! If I could strip out of my skin I would.” You say to Loki and Clint. Death Valley’s temperature was a recorded 130 degrees today. 

At your displeasure Loki slows till he’s next to you and puts an arm around your shoulders. You look at him questionably but gasp as his arm generates a coolness that at least stops your sweating. You make sure not to say anything so Clint, in front of you, doesn’t become jealous. 

The trip to the site is very uneventful. Even reaching the site is uneventful. About 30 meters from the site you see nothing. Literally, it’s just desert, surrounded by high cliffs, for miles. 

So you snoop, you walk around the site as Clint and Loki argue about whether the coordinates are correct. 

“I swear, this is what Stark gave me so, if they’re wrong, blame him!” Clint says, exasperated.

“It can’t be wrong I can feel something pulling at my magic but-”

That’s when you run into an invisible wall and yelp as you fall backwards onto your butt. 

“Found it!” You cheer as a space ship slowly appears, the colors changing and shifting from the point you hit till the whole thing is uncovered. At first glance the ship looks futuristic but once you overlook the whole thing with Clint keeping his distance, and Loki exploring with you, you realize it’s shaped as a sphinx. 

Very fitting for the desert surrounding the ship. 

“Work you magic.” You tell Loki and he does. You both congregate at the head of the ship/sphinx and he waves his hands over it, his green magic trailing out here and there to touch the ship. Loki himself mutters under his breath. 

You keep your eyes on him but also keep vigilant about the area. You finally get an idea and close your eyes for a second, your magic leaving your body and passing through the ship. No life forms. When you open your eyes again Loki lifts a brow at you, still muttering. 

“No life I can detect.” You tell him and he nods and focuses back on the ship. 

You put a hand to your ear piece and tell Clint, “I don’t sense any life forms but I’d keep a close eye anyways.” 

Clint gives you an acknowledgment. 

Loki finally stops his magic and drops his hands to his sides, just as he looks at you and you hear Clint yell into your ear, you’re hit by a concussive blast. When you look up in shock you see one lone humanoid figure walking towards Loki, who although wasn’t in the way of the blast also got blasted back, curious you think. Loki had immediately gotten into a defensive stance after getting up from the blast, one hand on his back holds three daggers, the other hand put up in a manner meant to calm the figure. 

You quickly get on your feet and stand next to Loki, your magic congregating at your balled fists. 

“Listen, buddy, I don’t know who you think you are-” Loki hisses at you, trying to get you to stop antagonizing the being that is close enough to identify. He is tall, around 7 feet tall and is dressed in a skin tight tank and leggings that are a dark purple color, it looks like metal but it’s too flexible to actually be metal. His head is encased in a tight helmet that frames his face and covers his head from his forehead, up, in a way that makes you think he is bald underneath. You shiver as you look into his eyes, they glow white. 

“Identify yourself.” The being says. Standing casually as if he didn’t attack you. 

“I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, and you are?” 

The being stands there silently. You huff. “I’m y/n, of Earth.” 

The being stands still for a few seconds then gets into a fighting position.

“I am here to take y/n, anyone who stands in my way shall perish.” 

Loki immediately grabs you and teleports you to Clint, you yell out angrily as he teleports back to the being and they start fighting. Loki throwing magic and daggers at the being. You gasp, the first ball of magic Loki throws at it makes a purple light encase the being, in a rippling effect, who then grows a bit. Hawkeye lets loose some arrows that explode on impact. It does nothing but make the man grow even more. 

Loki also realizes what’s going on because he stops attacking the being. The being takes his chance and lunges at Loki. Loki isn’t fast enough and takes a blow to the head. You scream and begin running towards him as he lays in the dirt discombobulated. Clint tries to grab your arm but misses you just so. 

In your ear you hear Clint tell Natasha to ready the jet. Before the being can get to Loki you throw yourself over his body. When he’s a few feet away you look at him with furious eyes.

“Stop!” 

To your surprise the being stops mid step, considers your words, then stands in place. You frown but look at Loki who is watching with fascinated eyes, recovered from the hard hit he took. You watch as blood trails down the side of his face and out of his ear. He probably can’t hear out of his left ear. 

Looking back up at the being you ask it, “Who sent you? What are you?”

The being stares at the two of you but answers, “I am Subject 52103 Growing Man, and my master sent me.” 

You feel Loki tense under you and assume he knows who his master is. 

“Tell your master to leave Earth alone, that if you or him show your faces here again, the Avengers will take you out without hesitation.”

The Growing Man nods and leaves in a flash of purple and black. 

Letting out a tense breath you stand and help Loki up. Making your way back to the quin jet, you pick up Clint. 

“Why does he want you?” Clint asks, looking at you. 

You walk, holding Loki at your side, the hit from the Growing Man doing enough to leave him a bit disoriented and sluggish. 

“I don’t know and I’m not quite sure I want to know.” You say. Loki stays conveniently quiet the entire walk to the quin jet. Clint doesn’t ask anything else either. 

Pt. 9.1/Pt. 10/?

Tag list: @justfangirlthingies​ @emelieh99​ @high-functioning-lokipath​ @loveableasshole​ 

[willsimpforazula]

Sokkla Month Day 24: Politics

A/N: Background Sokkla, like it's there and it's obvious, but not like super overwhelming and in your face. But it's still Sokkla so eh(?)

------

Sokkla Month Day 24: Politics

"You're late."

"Considering the circumstances, I'd think I'll take being five minutes late over the alternative, thank you very much."

"But did you die?"

"Came pretty close a few times. Not that you'd care."

"Last I checked, you were my blade. And blades don't talk back."

"Funny, because I think, no, I know that you absolutely love it when I talk back to you. I mean, who else in the court has the balls to go toe to toe with you? Apart from that monkey Zhao. Or Qin, whenever he isn't trying to fuck over Zhao. Seriously, how did you people even get out of Caldera, much less conquer half of the main Earth Kingdom cities with a dysfunctional Diet as this?"

"Focus, commitment and sheer will."

"All I'm hearing is you're too stubborn for your own good."

"Keep talking."

"I sincerely doubt you want to wrestle in those heels of yours. Or explain to the ministers at the party as to why there is a suspicious looking mark on your neck. Because I'd really, really, hate to have Ty Lee's makeup work all ruined because you got all flustered and horny. You should think about giving the girl a raise, y'know."

"Please, that girl doesn't need me to give her a raise. She's practically self-sufficient from all the blackmail and betting rings she's running. Also, what did I tell you about NO SHOES IN THE HOUSE SOKKA!"

"Wheoops?"

Instinctively, he ducked as a throwing dart embedded itself firmly in the doorpost.

"I-"

"Shut the fuck up Sokka, if you know what's good for you. Now come on, any longer and those spineless dickwads and entitled little bimbos are going to be asking questions I'd rather not answer." Azula hissed, before slamming home a shot of 'white lightning' like it was water.

As much as Sokka would have loved to keep up the banter, knowing full well that it would definitely lead to some of the most intense and life altering (in his humble opinion, which he wisely kept to himself lest he inflate her ego any further) sexcapades if he continued, seeing her like this made him decide otherwise. Besides, he really did stink.

-----

In Azula's mind, a princess was supposed to be punctual, despite the generous leeway she was afforded due to her status and prestige. For her, showing up late meant she was growing soft, which in her mind would and could be translated as a sign of weakness. In the world of palace politics, any sign of weakness would inevitably result in death, if not political then physical. Not that one was better than the other, but she would rather commit suicide than be placed into such a spot.

Banishing such dark thoughts from her mind, she put up airs and false smiles as she 'interacted' with the pit of vipers and power hungry concubines who would stop at nothing to see their chosen taking her spot as the designated successor to the Dragon Throne. That she was still single even now sparked incessant rumours, some of which were dangerously close to the truth. At least Ty Lee managed to work her magic and for the most part, they were only as such, rumours.

While Ty Lee dealt with the concubines and gossips, Sokka had the much more difficult task of 'persuading' people to come around to her way of thinking, which typically meant some roughing up here and there. Occasionally, some people just did not wish to get with the program, no matter how much sense it made but for the simple fact that she possessed a vagina instead of a penis. Thus, in Azula's mind, they would be put on a watchlist and monitored more closely before deciding that enough was enough and they had to be permanently removed from the mortal coil of life lest it came back to bite her in the ass some point down the road.

As far as assassinations went, there weren't that many, just enough to send a message to those who had similar plans in their sleeves. Besides, she did not wish to gain a reputation as an unreasonable person who could not tolerate dissent. After all, it was because of her grandfather's notorious lack of tolerance for contrarian voices that led the Fire Nation into a sixty year long quagmire in the south and western regions of the Earth Kingdom.

-----

"Princess, I believe you should refrain from taking another glass." Sokka chided formally, while keeping a lookout for any hint of suspicious activity, concerned that in her inebriated state, she would do or say something regrettable. Privately, it was because having to deal with a hungover Azula was not much fun at all, what with her temperament being that of a very short fused platypus bear.

"You should take your guard's advice, your Highness." the lady added. While no stranger to intrigues and backroom plots herself, Lady Miyu was considered by Azula to be one of the rare friends she had among the ministers and courtesans.

"Fine. But just one more sip please, else I'd never be able to put up with that-that-"

"Do I need to remind you how you act when you're hungover? Also, I'd rather not be out cleaning up some mess you made because you insulted the wrong person while you were blasted to Agna Q'ela and back."

"He's right you know." Miyu added.

"Y'all are no fun."

"We can have all the fun you want when your asscheeks are on the throne. But for now, that glass can wait."

"Point. Noted." she growled.

Leading her by the hand, he escorted her out from the ballroom discreetly and headed back to her apartment complex.

"Politics and playing nice is a right pain in the ass." she grumbled.

"Tell me about it."

"What do you think I'm doing right now?"

"Fair enough. Now get some rest, my princess." he replied, scooping her up in his arms as they entered her living quarters, before she was deposited on her bed. As he moved to exit the room, Azula called out "Sokka?"

"Yes?"

Patting the side of her bed, Sokka rolled his eyes, before stripping off his suit and shirt and laying next to her.

"Thank you" she replied, shutting off the lights with a flick of her wrists before curling up around him.

[maxwell-grant]

SF Character Overview: Ken and his Brazilian catchphrase

I mentioned before that the Ryu and Ken rivalry dates back long, long before the games themselves, it treads ground familiar to culture since the days of wuxia. It’s been there since SF1, but the two of them have entirely separate worlds outside of their fistcuffs with each other. Ryu usually wins, but one thing becomes very clear when they are separate:

Ken gets a lot of mileage out of not being the main character, doesn’t he? 

Built as the opposite of Ryu, but not nearly as important to the Street Fighter narrative, tends to give Ken a lot more freedom as a character than Ryu has. His playstyle is flashy, bold, just as accessible as Ryu’s but with tricks that favor newcomers that just wanna steamroll the competition with special attacks instead of patiently learning how to play the match. His clothes are in much better shape than Ryu’s, but he conducts himself with far less grace and humility. His alternate costumes are far more ridiculous. He gets to undergo radical design shifts in each game, since he doesn’t have to stay completely static visually-wise like Ryu. He gets to marry and have a life outside of fighting, he gets an understudy, he has a kid that punches him in the nuts. We make memes about how insufferable he is to fight and how crappy his face and hair look in V. We fight him in stages like boat parties and hotels that belong to him. He doesn’t really need anything more in life, and fights mainly because he likes it. 

In a lot of ways, Ken has undisputably got it better than Ryu in his general life. Which is part of why Ryu will nearly always be the better fighter when they fight. Ken has a life outside of Street Fighter, and he joins the tournaments not for the money or rewards (he doesn’t need it), or even to prove himself (he needs it even less), but because Ryu is there, and he’ll be damned if he lets Ryu keep showing him up without putting on a fight. 

It doesn’t usually fall onto Ken the role of being the main POV character, the one who has to grow and struggle in a narrative. But sometimes it does to unexpectedly great results. 

My main experience with Ken as a character actually has little to do with the games, and instead the Street Fighter II Victory anime.

Street Fighter II Victory was an anime released in 1995 to capitalize on the release of the Street Fighter film, the one starring Raul Julia and no one else. It took a very back-to-basics approach with the storyline, focusing primarily on Ryu and Ken as shonen protagonists, their growth as warriors and their gradual encounters with other SF characters. The show also featured several elements that would later become SF canon, such as Sagat being a good character caught on the wrong side on the law and Chun-Li being brainwashed into working for Shadaloo

The show never achieved much popularity in the US, or in Japan, but I cannot overstate just how popular it became in South America. In Brazil, it’s considered by many to be the absolute peak of Street Fighter as a property, story-wise. The show aired on the same network as Dragon Ball, and on similar time slots. Kids grew up on this show, the scene where Ryu learns to perform the Hadouken was extremely imitated by an entire generation of kids in Brazil. 

And in regards to Ken, here’s something: Have you ever heard of a character who has a famous catchphrase, that is purely an invention of dubbing that only exists in one side of the globe and is completely unknown elsewhere?

Because Ken had one for this show. It was “Ih, ó o cara aí”. 

The closest translation to it I can provide is that it means something like “Yeesh, the nerve on that guy” or “Wew, what a jerk”, but it’s really hard to convey exactly. It’s an extremely informal phrase, bordering on surfer/skater slang, that Ken uses to mock people for being arrogant or pretentious or just anyone he doesn’t like. Picture that “Sonic the Hedgehog wagging his finger at you” kind of attitude, that’s what it conveys. 

It gets brought up so often in Brazilian fan communities dedicated to Street Fighter, it’s become so associated as THE Ken phrase, that it was kinda surprising to visit English pages and discover that this just plain doesn’t exist, outside of Brazil. I can’t think of a similar phenomenon. 

Of course, that’s one half of what people remember most about Ken in the show. The other half is this

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YwBhESdzaJE

The Ken vs Vega fight, though it may not be to you, is one of those extremely iconic anime fights that even people who don’t remember anything about the show will go “oooh, shit, yeah I remember that one, Ken got fucked to hell and back and then he won”. It’s a harsh, brutal encounter, juxtaposed with the also extremely famous scene of Ryu practicing his Hadouken, aired on the daytime slot usually reserved for kid-friendly cartoons, and where as DBZ fights could get bloody too, the tension was lesser because everyone knew the characters were gods that could survive anything. 

This is just one guy who knows karate trying to survive against a maniac with super speed and poison tipped blades, fighting to save his friend from being sold off to an international crime ring (with the not subtle threat of sexual assault), completely alone, on a countdown due to being poisoned and getting more and more injured. And then he wins.

That’s always gonna be the main thing that appeals to me about Ken, a character I often forget I have strong feelings for until I revisit that scene and other similar moments in other Street Fighter stories. 

Ryu is the guy who overcomes everything, any demons within or outside, to win the fight. He’s always going to win the fight and look cool doing so. He’s always going to be Ryu, doing what he does. 

Ken? He may win, but he ain’t the main character of anything. He has a wholly separate life, loved ones to fight for. He grows his hair and cuts it, he changes his clothes, he gets to lose, even often. He gets to partake in fights where he gets beaten cruelly and harshly in ways Ryu would not, but when he wins, he wins with that fire in his fist and that glint in his eye and the carefree smugness of someone who gets to be rebellious and arrogant because he’s not the main character. 

And because he’s got the best uppercut, give or take a flowchart or two.

Final rating: 4/5

[iluvromance]

welcome back to júlia ( @harryhoney-bee​ ) and sarah read the princess diaries. we just finished the fourth book, princess in waiting so here we are out thoughts! (ALL MEMES ARE JÚLIA’S. SHE’S THE FUNNY ONE OUT OF US):

- okay so solid start. mia’s poems still make us wanna cry but they’re getting better. solid glow up.

- mia describes michael as her heart’s breath. now we don’t have time to unpack ALL of that, but what the actual fuck does HEART’S BREATH MEAN. heart beat?? heart string?? HEART BREATH?! we literally cannot think of what this means. i mean if she insists on using “breath”, why can’t she say lungs? go to therapy.

- michael when mia forgot his birthday:

- the way michael talks to mia... swoon. SWOOOOOOON.

- no but lilly do be making everything about her. mia’s movie comes out and she just thinks about herself.... uh ok

- can we take a moment to applaud miss cabot for including the princess diaries movie into the book. yeah she used lilly to get her frustrations out about it, but let’s be real: miss cabot is shady and we LOVE it. (júlia hasn’t seen the movie, but we’ll watch it together later)

- helen if she finds out the baby is a boy:

- WHEN TINA IS TRYING TO TELL HER HER OWN BOY PROBLEMS AND MIA'S LIKE "... oh. hmm.. anyways MICHAEL--"

- mia is an actual psychopath and needs medical care. she wishes grandmere were to be run over by a cab driver.... jail.

- but then at the end she wants to make grandmere happy and goes to the ball so i guess she has SOME brain cells

- not mia saying michael is the reason for living. PLEASE. it’s the emotional dependency for me

- in an alternative universe, lars and wahim are lovers, but in this universe they’re just friend soulmates

- NOT MIA SAYS SHE LOVES HER CAT AND MICHAEL MORE THAN HER OWN PARENTS. MENTO IWWNESS-

- every single voicemail michael leaves is so endearing and we want to die. also, the fact that people heard that voicemail before mia... EMBARRASSING

- NOT MICHAEL SAYING THE WRONG PHRASE IN FRENCH. HE DOES HAVE FAULTS!!!

- (this triggered a long discussion between us about how lonely we are and how we just want to be loved, so thanks michael)

- sarah: put him on his knees

- júlia: not him. it. men are useful ornaments (she sounds so much like grandmere here)

- speaking of grandmere, are we not gonna talk about how similar grandmere and lilly are? that’s frightening. they’re both assholes to mia for her own wellbeing. lilly calls grandmere crazy for taking mia out of class for shopping as is she wasn’t convinced that the school administration was out to get her because there was a fire drill during her walkout

- LINUXRULZ!!!!!!!!!!! ONE STEP CLOSER TO SKINNERBX!!!!!!!

- NOT GRANDMERE TELLING MIA TO GIVE A MAN CANDY. PLEAAAAASE

- “Of course he says he doesn't want anything, that I am the only thing he needs (!!!!!!!!!!) and that he will see me in eight days, and that is the best present anyone could get him.” bye. we’re ded. the bar is SO FUCKING HIGH thanks to mike over here.

- grandmere never told her husband she loved him. okay but this just proves that there are worst simps in the world than michael. prince grandpere was the biggest simp. and can you imagine being married to clarisse. i’d jump off the brooklyn bridge-

- michael’s love language: reciting star wars lines instead of saying i love you

- “We discussed calling Michael's band The Man, but then dismissed it as having possible misogynistic undertones." oh.....he's a feminist  <3

- michael’s hand on the car and the other around mia’s arm as he kisses her...... so firm..... so patrick swayze........... we need a moment. WHATTHEFUCK!!

- okay here’s a theory i have: nobody ever tells kenny that mia is now dating michael. let’s talk about this cuz michael and mia don’t act like a couple in school, and the only people who know they’re dating are the people who saw them making out at the dance and the moscovitz’s doorman. so how would kenny know? (we’ll discuss this more when we get to book 7.5)

- this is the third time the guy who hates it when they put corn in the chili is mentioned. júlia, who is a first time reader, thinks he’s a killer. sarah says he’s worse.

- literally nobody but mia would think that loving someone and being in love with someone is different. the way i wanna smack her-

- "Shameeka is really good at science, on account of her being a Pisces." WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

- no but shameeka is doing hot girl shit

- tina being sad and using blue font made us fucking sob what the fuck that’s so FUNNY. WHY IS SHE USING BLUE FONT ;ERGN;JKGNKJSER

- michael brings his game boy to school. no i don’t want to talk about this

- “Mia, I love you, remember?” roughly translates to “i love you dumb ass”

- not but michael’s fucking patience with mia... it’s crazy. we wouldn’t have lasted this long <3

- a final note: jane eyre sucks and i can’t ever finish it no matter how hard i try