#and the one part of the whole world that had even the possibility of being safe to him

[esgaril]

this is much more of a problem though. Trump won, because a large number of people who claim to be progressive, who claim to care about justice and human rights looked at the warnings, at the pleas of the whole world begging to americans not to let this lunatic back in power again, because he will dismantle the democratic systems of your country and fuck up the planet while he's doing it and these people only had one question in the face of all this: what's in it for me? and when the answer wasn't satisfying enough they just shrugged and let him right back in. and I think that says a lot about the soul of america.

as long as americans see their vote as a commodity to be auctioned off to the highest bidder instead of the tool they all have and should use to nudge the country towards a path they prefer, they will never have a leftist government.

I'm very much reminded of that post about how "leftists don't vote" as it was proven right again.

sure, this election didn't show that the majority of americans are fascists, but it did show that the majority of americans can't be bothered to do the bare minimum to stop fascism without sufficient bribes. it showed that a lot of americans don't see themselves as part of the democratic process, they are like corrupt cops holding their hand out for the bribe and doing nothing if they don't get it. with attitude like that you can't expect to ever elect an altruistic government.

even now there are comments on this post about how the democrats didn't offer enough to give them the vote. there's barely a peep about the responsibility of the voters. about the fact that a vote is not just a right, but a responsibility as well. a democracy can't function without the voters doing their part. a lot of people act like a voter is just an entitled toddler needed to be coddled and catered to instead of an independent adult human being with their own morals and capability to weigh the consequences of their actions, who can take responsibility for their descisions. yes, the options were not ideal in this election. it is still the responsibility of every voter to consider them and make the best choice possible instead of storming off to pout in the corner and letting your country burn. being an adult means making hard choices. sorry if this is how you found out.

to me it seems that that's the core problem needed to be fixed first before any positive changes can happen.

to be fair to the americans it's not unique to them, every country in the world has this problem among some portion of their voters, it's just more pronounced and has much more deadly consequences in this case.

There’s not too much point in talking about the election anymore, but I think some people are misconstruing the results. 21% of the American population voted for trump. He won the popular vote with polls only recording a 43.7% approval rating, and he has never held an approval rating over 50%, something that Biden and (arguably) Harris have. He lost millions of votes from 2020 to 2024, it’s just that Harris lost millions more.

All this is to say that there is not some ‘silent majority’ of trump supporters in America. While some people will definitely be emboldened in their rhetoric and action by the results of the election, Trump was a deeply unpopular president, and is shaping up to be one again. He will enact unpopular policies that are against the will of the average American, but that doesn’t mean every American is out to get you. Engage with your local community, check in on loved ones, and maybe even take a look at local political offices in the coming few years. If you dislike the two party system, volunteer or donate to a third party. It’s altogether likely we see another 2022 situation, resentment grows further against the Republican Party, and the midterms offer a lot of opportunity to alternatives, at every level of government.

It may all feel like the end, but it’s not. We’ve been through it before, and no matter what we do, hate and ignorance will bleed through the cracks in society again in the future. It’s going to get better, but that’s easier to say if we make it better.

[cinnamon-galaxies]

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲

(human!Alastor x f!reader drabble)

Masterlist

Some poetic and reminiscing thoughts from (human) Alastor about his darling-doe. This is unlike anything I've written before. Honestly, I’m not even sure what this is. I wrote it a while ago when I was severely sleep-deprived.

I know he's no longer human in this, but he's telling us about a time when he still was. That's why I tagged it as human!Alastor.

CW: Possessive thoughts, mention of murder and manipulation

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I remember the day I first saw you so clearly as if it didn’t happen almost a hundred years ago – back then, when we were still human, nothing but mere people made of flesh and bone, born to live, and living to die. Oh, what a beautiful sight you were, so beautiful – the most beautiful creature of them all. Not only your face resembled the image of a goddess, but your soul shone so bright it made even the darkest of times turn day. You were a true angel sent from heaven, a kind soul and oh so fragile. Glancing into those beautiful doe eyes of yours made me want to ruin you. To take you with me, poison your every being and make you mine – and mine only.

It feels as if it was yesterday that you introduced yourself to me. That radiant smile on your lips, those long lashes framing those shining eyes like they’re the most valuable painting in this world, and I've lost myself in you. You made me feel things I’ve never felt before. Things, I didn’t even consider I was able to feel – because I never felt them before. I've heard those tales. Even read those tales about unconditional love. About how the heartbeat increases whenever you’re close to the one you desire. About how much you crave their touch, their voice, their love – completely and utterly devoted to the one person in this world. One out of billions of people. But I never dared to think I would ever feel the same. Did I feel the same? I was obsessed with you; wanted to possess you in every way possible. And when those full lips of yours parted and your angelic voice entered my ears for the first time, you already had it all. And I knew I wanted you to be mine – and mine only.

Were you fascinated by me? Oh, you were. I saw it on your face. In the tiniest details that betrayed your overly polite expression that you so strongly tried to keep professional. I saw that you were intrigued the very moment you laid your eyes on me. It was like fate had sent you to me. Like my mother in heaven twisted all the odds in my favor, just so I could meet you. Oh, the way you smiled at me. The way you looked at me. How your voice slightly raised when you spoke directly to me. It made my heart flutter and it filled me with an emotion I never thought to ever be able to feel my whole life. And I wanted you to be mine – and mine only.

We met again, after that night. More often than appropriate. In parks, at the bank of the Mississippi, at professional events and at a restaurant I so carefully chose. One that I knew would only serve the best of New Orleans’ cuisine. To make you acquainted with my home and my culture. To prepare you to be on my side. I saw you once, I saw you twice. I saw you an umpteenth times. And yet I was waiting for the perfect moment to ruin you – to make you mine – and mine only.

Were you as corrupted as I? Were you – beside your angel-like nature – capable to make the change, to become one like me, and sacrifice your very being to the darkness of twisted human nature? The desire to kill, the desire to hunt with you grew with every passing day. Day to day I've been waiting for the moment. For the perfect opportunity to make you see my true nature. To make you see my grim twisted morality, to make you see my darkest of secrets, to make you accept it with a smile, to make you succumb to your own darkness, to make you fall, to make you mine – and mine only.

The night we first shared a kiss felt like a dream. An oh so beautiful, yet so tragic dream – because I knew that once your lips touched mine, everything between us would change forever. I remember how you stood before me, much like the day we met, though that angelic smile of yours was replaced by a warmth that exceeded every ounce of adoration you gifted to me before. And then you leaned in, and we kissed. That feeling of your soft lips against mine wasn’t anything like I imagined before. It was so much more, an overwhelming explosion of fireworks. Oh, the hunger that roared on my inside, the need to pull you closer and take everything of you – in this very moment – was unbearable. But I waited. Because at this moment I already knew you were mine – and mine only.

Oh, you were my darling.

My darling-doe.

My angel.

My everything.

And now, I will make you fall.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #1: DYAD

(also on spotify!)

Hello everyone!! It's been a couple weeks and change since Constant Companions, my newest album, was released unto the world, and I've been genuinely blown away by the response. Genuinely, thank you to everyone who's been streaming, commenting, making mashups, changing their pfps and usernames - it means the world to me!

I wanted to give some of that love back with something people have been asking me a lot about - and, admittedly, something I love doing. Song explanations! Deep dives! Dropping the lore! Welcome... to the Constant Companions Closeups...

For the next eleven days, I'll be going into each track one by one and babbling about the process, inspiration, details, feelings, and thoughts behind each one! We're getting sappy. We're bearing our hearts. We're telling unfunny jokes. And we're starting with track one - DYAD (featuring unit.0)!

---

Naturally, since this is the first track, it also serves as a great point to talk about my intention with this album as a whole!

I'll elaborate more on this with future tracks, but to me, there are really two main things that define the sonic progression of this album versus my previous work - guitars and vocal synths. Obviously, these things have been present in my work since I first started calling myself Jamie Paige, but Constant Companions is intended to be my overwrought, sappy confession of love to these two things that time and time again have made me simply want to make music. I love rock and I love Hatsune Miku dammit!!!

I had originally written this song in February of 2023 for a game-jam-esque online festival hosted by my friend Loni called HAPPY PARTY TRI, and at that time, I had found myself at a major crossroads. I had put out People Posture Play Pretend and :women_wrestling: the previous year, and while the response was nice, I was feeling listless and lost.

I love singing. I like my voice well enough. I certainly love writing music with lyrics!! But... there was something uniquely electrifying about using vocal synths. Amidst a lot of insecurity and emotional turmoil surrounding the process of making art and putting myself out into the world, it was one of the few things that just made everything feel right. Suddenly, I was making the same kind of music that had touched my heart so many times over.

Would it alienate people, though? Would I lose longtime listeners? Yes, that weighed on my mind more than I'd like to admit, but even more than that... I was worried I'd lose some part of myself, as silly as it sounds. Maybe what I thought was a bridge would become a barrier, and the messages I wanted to send across the gap would never find their way.

Ultimately, I felt that Dyad was the only kind of opener I could've possibly given this album, and a perfect fit for the album's motif. A dialogue between myself, stricken with loneliness and a lack of inertia running in circles, and that synthesized voice (ANRI Arcane my darling), grabbing the outstretched hand and asking a question I already know the answer to -

"Baby, do you know what you wanna hear?"

Yes, it's a love song, but it's not just for a person - it's a love song for the creative impulse, and for the places I wanted it to take me.

im resisting the urge to be jokingly dismissive of myself to diffuse tension but i still need to signal that the emotionally bare part of this is over so pretend im doing a funny little dance Anyways let's talk more technical stuff

---

Like many of my songs, Dyad came together from a patchwork of different snippets and ideas I had laying around. The back half of the chorus - "dream together, we can dream together" - originally came from this idea I had jotted down something like 9 months prior, but ended up being a perfect fit for Dyad in basically every way. The verse snippet that I'd written to go with it got reused for a later song on Constant Companions as well! (I say without naming it, as if it isn't literally lifted wholesale from this demo and thus incredibly obvious)

I wasn't originally planning on brazenly quoting the bridge of a Tally Hall song when I set out to write this song, but while toying around with a bridge idea involving a shortened version of the pre-chorus melody, I realized I had inadvertently copied it anyways. I was going to scrap it... but at the request of my dear friend and certified Tally Hall lover Marcy Nabors, I made it an explicit reference. Which I'm fine with, personally! The first CD I ever owned was a copy of Marvin's Marvelous Mechanical Museum my sister bought me all the way back in 2006 - You can pry that sentimental attachment from my cold, dead hands, TikTok kiddies.

Lastly - not really behind the scenes so much as just a shoutout - thank you to unit.0 for the lovely lead guitar work on this song!! He's been a beloved collaborator of mine for many, many years now, and one of the people who ultimately convinced me this direction was the right one to go in, so it means a lot to share this song with him. Go listen to his music!!! Now!!!!!!

That's about it for this song! Not to sound like a fucking YouTuber, but genuinely, if there are any details you'd like to hear more about, let me know and I might made a bonus post at the end of all this. Otherwise, thank you for listening! Tomorrow: Not Quite There, featuring telebasher!

❤️💚

[charcubed]

I have soooooo much I want to write about Doctor Odyssey and if I keep waiting for the perfect moment to write something PROPERLY GOOD AND COMPREHENSIVE then I’m simply going to explode. So instead I’m going to write a messy little post on my phone when half asleep and try to keep it to one main topic.

Yeah yeah the throuple had a threesome (and I’m foaming at the mouth over it) but can we talk about the THEMES!!!!

This show is for crazy people (me specifically). Once again, I have a lot to say, but for now let me just focus on the wedding episode itself. That threesome is informed by the context of the rest of the episode in a way I simply CANNOT get over.

Let’s look at our passengers: the bride, groom, and best man. We find out all of them are being unfaithful to each other in various ways, miserable in their silence and unhealthy relationship dynamics. They all went to school together and were once close, but things went wrong somewhere along the way. The best man’s speech implies he has feelings for the groom, the groom is a sex addict who’s had multiple partners (possibly the best man included) because he feels trapped in a lie, and the bride and best man are having sex with each other. And none of them are communicating about it, and the groom who had preexisting mental health struggles commits suicide.

What happens to the three of them is a tragedy and it is absolutely a result of heteronormative monogamous culture. That culture was passed down from the bride’s mother to her too by example and societal influence.

I’m not exaggerating. It’s not subtle!!! At all!!! Everything explodes for those passengers because monogamy and repressing bisexuality wasn’t working for them.

They’re a dark mirror and cautionary tale. (Bonus points for how Avery’s sad backstory is that she was betrayed by her longtime friend / brief husband who cheated on her with a mutual friend as well, which is why she’s definitely hesitant about love now.)

By comparison, Avery and Max and Tristan have been avoiding some similar big pitfalls: they know they’re into each other and it’s not a secret, rivalries keep being squashed with effort, and no one is pressuring anyone to choose (so far).

This is what our beloved main characters have on their minds before what follows. And again, let’s not even get to the sex part yet… THE BUCKET LISTS!!! I’m losing my Goddamn marbles!!! The way all 3 of their lists intersect? Holy shit. Off the top of my head: Max and Tristan want to fall in love and have kids, Avery and Max want to see the world, Tristan and Avery have niche interests outside of medicine that they want to explore more… We were given itemized lists to show how the 3 of them balance and round each other out perfectly.

It’s not about any 2 of them because it won’t work with just any 2. It’s ALL THREE — just like all the framing and blocking of shots is consistently all 3, they walked down the wedding aisle all 3 together, the first sex scene for any of them that WE as the audience see on screen is all 3 of them together, a “bad threesome” is defined as 2 people getting too wrapped up in each other and the 3rd being an accidental outsider, we often see that if one duo gets a couple-y moment then the other duos get similar moments later as well, etc etc. Sorry. Let me not continue the summary list here and now so I don’t get too sidetracked but there’s A LOT.

But like, my current point? That wedding episode is a goldmine and the threesome explicitly happening doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Far from it. The themes are themeing in the whole show, of course, which is part of what I want to write about elsewhere at some point too: this show is repeatedly very deliberate about making sure heterosexuality or monogamy aren’t framed as the default or only correct options, and queerness is sprinkled everywhere. But this wedding episode specifically… the themes were nearly the ONLY PLOT. Nothing else — it’s basically only that, and it’s very focused. The failures of monogamy are on full display. And that’s why and how we get an explicit threesome right after it, which will lead us into how things will continue to develop for our trio.

Now, as for why the threesome happens so relatively quickly? My hot take on that is that general audiences can be stupid and so the creators wanted to put the throuple explicitly on screen fairly early to get people to start Noticing. Show them how the characters need to be together… and that sets us up for the possible angst and tension to follow as they have to accept it emotionally for themselves too. Now, as an audience member, you’ll more strongly know what to root for. You’ll know what’s right because you’ve seen it and you’ll want them to get back to that place, come what may. (If you’re not a puritan.)

It’s so fucking good. Insane silly show for insane people. Are we seeing the vision??? I need everyone to lock in.

This ramble is probably a disaster and I apologize for that but ohhhh man I had to put SOME words down so I wouldn’t explode. Suffice it to say I’m having a ball up in this bitch and I cannot believe this show exists. I couldn’t believe my eyes and my brain cells in the pilot, and I REALLY can’t believe them now.

What a time to be alive!!!!!! Polycule “love fest” on a cruise ship, baby!!! The world needs more love, all kinds of love, as the Captain says!!!! Onward to gay week!!!! LET’S SEE THOSE BI MEN KISS

[fatcatlittlebox]

I find the recent comments from showrunners Payne and McKay interesting particularly when they state that Sauron did not want to kill Galadriel in the finale duel but for her to acknowledge him and "give him credit." Now why would that matter so much to him if not for the possibility that what he had done was done so with her in mind? Meaning, Sauron was thinking of Galadriel this whole time. His return to Mordor, the rings, his conquest. They are the broad strokes to the greater masterpiece he is shaping for her. She is his inspiration. She is his audience. Which brings me back to the theme of eyes. His eyes and hers. Eyes that see and look. The Eye is the mark of Sauron. But more than anything he wants Galadriel to see him. I made this last gifset to illustrate how this is the focus of Sauron's obsession and motivation.

Throughout his existence so far, he has been gifted and plagued by his ability to shapeshift and change form at will. He "has had many names." You see how this weighs upon his soul. He has had too many names. He has worn so many faces to too many people. He’s weary and the burden of not being seen for so many years, thousands - he almost comes apart.

This is why he desperately longs for Galadriel to see him. Not as the “abhorred” but as himself. Because to be seen is to be whole. To have one, true name even if it isn't uttered aloud. This is what Adar asked of Galadriel and I think it's meant to reflect Sauron as well. The difference is that Adar embraced the name he had earned while Sauron rejects his. Sauron hates his earned name because it is a constant reminder of how alone and misunderstood he feels in his purpose. That is until he meets Galadriel. She doesn’t abhor “Halbrand.” She loves him. She sees him. To her he is “friend" and "king."

"Galadriel. Look at me.” I believe that she did fall in love with the real him and he knows it. It's why he will always keep “Halbrand.” He will linger in the memories of when Galadriel knew him this way. That's why he continues to look like some variation of Halbrand. Because that's how Galadriel saw him. This the illusion he created for himself and one he is reluctant to leave. As long as she can see him. Just the possibility and the hope.

And while Galadriel can claim fondness for the part of him that was soft, vulnerable and human, that is not all she fell for. And Sauron won't let her get away with excusing herself or denying that she loved the parts that were truly him. This gesture, when he has her impaled with the crown and she averts her eyes away from his gaze.

He jerks her eyes upward as if to say, "Look." She fell in love with this person too. Sauron is Halbrand. The rage-filled, domineering and ambitious, violent spirit. He won't let her deny it. He won't let her look away. This is what they shared. She did not shrink before him when he pushed her away, when he told her of his darkness, when he told her, and showed her of how cruel and manipulative he could be. Remember, he saw her rage and vengeful side too. "Galadriel. Look at me." He says it aloud and presses these words upon her mind like a phantom prayer. His words probably haunt her soul. She feels it. It's what she hints at when she admits to Elrond that Gil Galad doesn't trust her alone with Sauron: You know why. The constant question that gropes her thoughts. It's the open invitation that still keeps the door open to his mind. She says she perceives "all of his mind as it concerns elves." I don't think that's because that is all that Sauron allows her to see. I think it's because that is what most occupies his thoughts. Her.

That's why, as I have previously wrote, I think the events of season 2 were setting the groundwork for manifesting the plan Sauron has for shaping the world as he saw it with Galadriel. He is going to enact their shared vision and, he believes, Galadriel will see its beauty and worth and return to him. Which leads me to her parting words to Sauron in episode 8. She tells him to heal himself. I think by now Sauron has enough insight to see that he is indeed a broken spirit. It comes up in his confessions with Celebrimbor and the showrunners have already hinted that Sauron is becoming increasingly aware that there is something about his very essence that poisons every meaningful relationship he has and dooms him to failure and despair. He also says to Galadriel at the start of their swordfight that he want to "heal..." and before he finishes with "Middle Earth", he pauses. He was going to say that he wants to heal himself. So by the time the viewer sees Galadriel tell him to basically fuck off and heal himself, those seeds are actually already planted. He has to cure himself of this blight. He has to purge himself of it. And now he has explicit instructions from Galadriel. He sees and remembers everything, right? He's going to do it. He's going to try to repair what he may see as his defect. It will be interesting to see how he interprets his marching orders from his queen. I think that is where the One Ring comes in.

The showrunners have already hinted that the forging of the One Ring will be an upcoming storyline soon. They also hinted that he's going to fuck something up. Furthermore, the audience has already been shown that the more of himself Sauron puts into a ring of power, the more corrupted and less potent of a creative, benevolent force it imparts. They've also shown that when Sauron tries to make rings on his own, he fails in the final product. He even went through a whole batch of mithril on his own without success. So if the writers have hinted that Sauron errs in the making of the ring, what could they possibly mean? Where did he go wrong? Is it that Sauron had different intentions for the Ring's purpose than what it ended up becoming? Or that he fulfilled its malicious purpose but with unintended side effects? If the former, I wonder if his true intention with the One Ring is to create another healing ring of power, his own ring as a mate of Galadriel's. Maybe he forges it, believing that this would meet Galadriel's demand to heal himself. The shownrunners have already shown that they like to put unexpected layers to the most well-known parts of Tolkien: “One ring to rule them all. One ring to find them. One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.” Maybe those words have additional meaning.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Your Arranged Marriage Series

Part 2: Geto Suguru

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: You’ve always carried the weight of the Zenin name, struggling to live up to a family legacy that crushes more than it elevates. When your father demands you marry one of the few special-grade sorcerers at Jujutsu High or suffer a punishment too brutal to consider, you almost give up. Until Geto Suguru makes that decicion for you...

Warnings: reader is a member of the Zenin family so a lot of trauma lol, physical abuse, so much drama but a ton of fluff in the end, Suguru is our husband y'all

„(y/n).“

It started out like any other normal day at jujutsu high. Going to the classroom with Nanami and Yu, giving it all you’ve got despite the fact that you didn’t make it past grade 3 since you’ve started studying here, meeting up with Suguru and Satoru during break.

It’s been a comfortable life, more than you could have ever asked for. After all, you are none other than the daughter of the Zenin clan’s leader. The one who’s supposed to carry on a family of strong jujutsu sorcerers.

You. A grade 3.

“I gave you more than enough time to develop. Fuck, I even arranged you attending that cursed school!”

A rough slap that doesn’t even hurt anymore, your skin so adjusted to the sting that you felt nothing but numbness.

“Are you too dumb to understand the whole clan relies on your lousy self?”

He grabbed your hair and yanked you upwards again, forced you to stare straight into his dead eyes.

“If you aren’t capable of becoming a decent jujutsu sorcerer, you’ll have to marry one. Maybe your children will be of use.”

Your…children? Marrying someone back at jujutsu high? What a ridiculous thought, after all, you’re still way too young for something like this-

“I’ll give you three months. Three months to find a man who is a special grade jujutsu sorcerer. Three months until you have to get married.”

“But…There are only three special grade sorcerers!”, you protested out of instinct, only to get your mouth forcefully shut by another ruthless slap from your father that felt like breaking your nose.

“Seduce them. That’s the least you can do.”

Seduce them. Your gaze drifted towards Satoru and Suguru more than once, wondering if you’d ever dare to make a move on them. They greeted you so friendly, supported you as good as possible. Suguru started giving you training sessions after each and every rough day, taught you on a regular basis in order for you to become stronger.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, (y/n). Even though you’re a Zenin, you don’t have to be a special grade sorcerer”, he spoke softly while lifting you off the ground.

“Easy to say when you’re a special grade yourself…”, you muttered, careful to avoid his gentle gaze.

Suguru has always been to good for this world. Looking out for you when no one else does, supporting you through everything the best he can. Yes, Suguru Geto is the kind of husband every girl you ask for, the boy you’ve kept you’re eye on since the first time he spoke to you.

But asking him out, let alone proposing to him for the sake of your own well-being and your lousy family? You could never do that.

No, Suguru deserves way better than you. What if he thinks you only want him because of his title? What if your father digs his mighty claws into him? There’s no way in hell you’ll ever allow that.

Even if this means directing your father’s anger towards you.

“I’ve been waiting long enough, (y/n).”

His cold voice cuts through the cheerful air and interrupts even Satoru from saying another playful word. All pairs of eyes are suddenly set on you.

Those of your father included.

“Why didn’t I hear from my daughter those past weeks, huh?”

The blood in your veins freezes immediately, all color draining from your face. This is bad, very very bad. You thought you had more time, one more weeks until you’re due. Your father made it more than clear that he’s expecting a husband from you the next time both of you meet.

And you have to offer nothing but yourself.

“I didn’t make it”, you finally mutter.

“You disappoint me all over again. You’ve had one job, (y/n). Only one job.”

He steps towards you, cold eyes glaring you straight into the ground. No, not in front of your friends, not when Suguru stands right next to you-

But before you’re even able to protest, your father grabs your uniform and yanks you towards him, your feet dangling in the air.

“You useless piece of shit”, he screams on top of his lungs while shaking your, forcing every little bit of air out of your lungs.

“Too dumb to get better than grade 3 and finding a husband who’s a special grade? Maybe I should kill you right here on the spot, huh?”

Your father’s grip on your uniform tightens, his furious eyes darkening. The world starts to blur as you gasp, struggling to breathe, but then-

“Let her go.”

The command is quiet, cold. Suguru steps forward, his face calm but his eyes blazing with a determination that makes your father pause. Suguru's hand is on your father’s arm in a flash, prying his fingers off you with a force that leaves no room for resistance.

“What do you think you’re doing?”, your father hisses, venom lacing his words.

Suguru's gaze doesn’t waver.

"If you’re so insistent on a husband for her, then you’ll have one. I’ll marry her. I’m the special grade you’re asking for."

A hush falls over the room, even Satoru, who usually has a comment for everything, is left speechless. The weight of Suguru’s words hangs heavy in the air, settling over you with a mix of relief and fear. This isn’t what you wanted for him. This isn’t what he deserves. But no word of protest escapes your lips, not when your father’s eyes still linger over you dreadfully. What a coward you are, ruining Suguru’s life to safe your own.

After what feels like forever, your father scoffs, but there’s a glimmer of approval in his gaze. Of course, he’s aware of Suguru Geto’s status, the boy who isn’t part of the big jujutsu sorcerer families but still holds breath-taking skills. A pretty good match, a promise to the future.

“Fine,” he sneers.

“But if I see her slipping, she’ll answer to me.”

With that, he storms away, leaving silence and a chill in his wake.

You don’t even dare to look at Suguru, embarrassment now swallowing you whole. This can’t be true, has to be one of your countless nightmares. Your father basically forcing Suguru to marry you while you stand next to him, doing nothing but watching? 

“Hey, are you alright?”, he questions before gently placing his hand on your shoulder.

“You…You don’t have to do this. I need to find another way-“

“By marrying another special grade sorcerer? You know that Satoru and I are your only options here at jujutsu high? I can allow him to hurt you.”

“I…I just need to get stronger”, you press out.

“You need to accept my help. Please, let me do this for you. I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt by your father.”

“But that means marrying me. That means marrying into that family, that you won’t be able to leave. I…I can’t ask for something like this. We can’t do this.”

You feel like throwing up any given minute, the sudden wave of emotions making you feel dizzy. What are you supposed to do? Why didn’t you try harder? There has to be a way out of this, a way to avoid ruining Suguru’s life together with yours.

But to be honest, your head is empty. There isn’t a single potential solution you didn’t think through already, no way out you didn’t try over those past weeks.

You are too weak to meet your father’s standards on your own and Suguru is the only way for this arranged marriage to involve someone decent. What if your father decides to find a husband for you?

A dry cough escapes your lips while you try to stop yourself from puking.

Is marrying Suguru really the only way?

-after the ceremony-

The evening is still, blanketed in a quiet Suguru and you can feel as the last traces of daylight fade from the sky. Soft candlelight fills the room, casting a gentle, muted glow on the walls - a stark contrast to the earlier chaos of the ceremony. Despite the festivities, the muted joy, and the unspoken words from family and friends, the reality of this arrangement sits heavy in your chest, and a kind of emptiness clings to you like your skin.

Suguru stands across from you, his tall frame outlined by the flickering light. He looks so calm, so composed, as he usually does, but the gentleness in his eyes now holds something deeper, something unreadable. He’s here, bound to you, tied to the Zenin family and all of its darkness and expectations, and it’s a thought that makes your stomach twist with guilt.

You can barely look at him as he steps closer, and the silence stretches, each heartbeat a drumbeat of regret echoing in your mind. How you could let things get this far, why did your weakness led you to this night where Suguru is forced to bear a burden that should have never been his? And all of this while he looks so handsome in that dark blue suit.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you finally murmur, your voice small, almost inaudible.

The words tremble out of you as a flood of emotions swells within, too much to keep contained. Your voice breaks as you continue.

“Suguru, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t want this for you.”

“(Y/n),” he says softly, reaching out to you, his hand hovering just above your shoulder as if asking permission to comfort you.

You close your eyes, ashamed, willing yourself not to break down, not to let him see just how torn apart you feel. But his hand gently settles on your shoulder, and it’s enough to dissolve whatever flimsy resolve you had left.

A sob escapes before you can stop it, and the weight of everything, your father, the impossible expectations, the years of feeling like not being good enough and now this forced bond, comes crashing down. Your knees start to give way, and you sink to the floor, unable to hold it in anymore.

“I never wanted this for you,” you whisper between shallow breaths, looking down as you feel tears streak down your face.

“You deserve…you deserve someone better, someone who doesn’t drag you into this horrible family, into this endless cycle of cruelty and control. I should have stopped you, I should have trained harder, should have been…better…”

Suguru kneels beside you, one hand gently resting on your back as the other moves to tilt your face up to his. His touch is tender, his gaze unwavering, and he watches you as if you’re the only person in the world who matters.

“I chose this,” he says firmly, his voice steady, a calm assurance anchoring every word.

“(Y/n), you have to understand that I’m here because I want to be here. I’m not doing this because of your father, or even for him. I did this because I couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering any longer. Because I… I’ve wanted to be by your side for a long time.”

The intensity of his words shakes you into a completely different direction. You blink hasty against the coat of tears in your eyes, stunned as his confession begins to sink in. Him…wanting to be by your side for a long time?

“I’ve loved you for years, (y/n),” he continues, his voice softer now, but still steady.

“I don’t know when it started. Maybe it was the way you never gave up, even when everyone seemed to be against you, or maybe it was the way you always cared about others, even if they couldn’t see it. You have this strength that you don’t even realize. And I fell in love with that strength, with your kindness, your resilience. I fell in love with you.”

Suguru’s words hang in the air, filling the quiet with an overwhelming warmth. Your mind races, trying to comprehend what he’s saying, how he could feel that way, how he could possibly think of you with such admiration. Is it a cruel joke, a nightmare, maybe? How could a man like Suguru Geto ever love someone like you? You can’t meet his gaze, your heart pounding, his confession echoing in your mind.

“You…you’re saying that you…”

The words falter, disbelief woven through them. You’ll never be good enough for a man like him. You, the lousiest member of the Zenin clan, a grade 3 sorcerer while he’s a special grade. Him who is popular wherever he goes, who has countless girls secretly keeping up with his tracks while you always lived in the shadows back at jujutsu high.

He…he loves you?

“Yes,” he whispers, his thumb gently brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

“I’ve dreamed of being with you, (y/n). I wished for a future together, one where we could be together without any of this mess, without your father’s interference, without any expectations from anyone but ourselves. I wanted us to grow into that future slowly, to experience life together on our own terms. But maybe fate had something else in mind.”

His words are steady, but there’s a hint of sorrow in them, an echo of the hope for something simpler, something kinder. You can see that he had imagined a different path for the two of you, one free of constraints and family legacies, a journey that would’ve let him show you his love in its purest form.

“But Suguru,” you begin, choking back the tears.

“This family, my family, will try to use you. They’ll see your strength and skill as a means to control, a way to fulfill their ambitions. They’ll tie you to this name, weigh you down with the same expectations they forced on me. The only reason for our marriage is the fact that they expect my future children to fill the void my uselessness left.”

Suguru’s gaze hardens slightly, a flicker of defiance breaking through his usual calm.

“Let them try. I’m not afraid of the Zenin family. I don’t want you to worry about that. And if they think they can manipulate me, they’re wrong.”

His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together with a gentle squeeze.

“I am here because I want to be here. Not because I owe them anything, or because I’m part of their plan, let alone because I pity you. And no matter what they say or do, my loyalty is to you, and you alone.”

A wave of emotion surges up in your chest again, but this time it’s not guilt or shame. It’s relief, gratitude, and a kind of hesitant joy that Suguru’s love is real, not just something forced by circumstance. You gaze down at your entwined hands, gaping at the warmth of his skin, the reassurance in his touch and a new sense of calm fills the room.

“Can you forgive me?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“For dragging you into this mess, for… everything?”

Suguru’s hand lifts to cup your face, his fingers tracing your jaw with a softness you never experienced before.

“There’s nothing to forgive. If anything, you gave me a way to protect you, a chance to stand beside you. I can’t think of anything I’d want more.”

Slowly, he leans forward, his forehead resting gently against yours, and you close your eyes, feeling the weight of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing matching your own. The world outside slowly but surely fades away, leaving only the two of you, together in this fragile, newfound peace.

“(Y/n),” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.

“Let’s make this ours. This life, this future… we can shape it however we want. Let’s find happiness on our terms, not theirs.”

Tears spill over again, but this time, they’re different - softer, lighter, filled with joy instead of dread. It’s as if Suguru’s words have lifted something from you, a burden that you’d carried for too long. For the first time, you allow yourself to imagine a future without fear, a future where you and Suguru can build something beautiful together.

You nod slowly, still overwhelmed, but there’s a quiet strength blooming inside you, the beginnings of hope.

“I’d like that,” you whisper.

“I’d like that a lot.”

Suguru’s arms wrap around you ever so gently, pulling you close, his embrace steady and unwavering. You allow yourself to relax against him, finally surrendering to the comfort he offers, allowing yourself to feel safe in his arms. Oh, it feels so much better than it did those countless times in you imagination. Not even in your dreams, you allowed yourself the dangerous thought of being by his side. And now? Now this man is your husband, not because he has to, but because he wanted to.

Minutes pass, the silence comfortable, his fingers gently running through your hair as he holds you. Finally, you pull back slightly, meeting his gaze, and you can’t help but notice the faint smile on his lips - a smile that seems to hold promises, a shared understanding that goes beyond words.

“We’ll take this one step at a time,” he says. We’ll face whatever comes our way together. I don’t care what your father or the Zenin clan throws at us. They don’t define us.”

You nod, a faint smile breaking through the lingering sadness.

“I think I’m starting to believe that too…Maybe.”

Suguru’s smile widens, and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulls back.

“We’ll make it work,” he assures you, his voice a soothing balm to your soul.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr @ryumurin @baepsays

@maximumuzuamy @sparklykeylime

[ha-rinrin]

Yours, Always

summary: Jinx asks you an important question, with the stars as witness

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!reader

Wordcount: 2k

Authors note: Even tough I feel like shit, writing somehow helps me work trough my emotions. I have another like 3 ideas on how this can go, so definitely keep an eye out for more versions.

masterlist

The stars above feel closer than ever, twinkling brightly over the city. You lie side by side with Jinx on a soft, worn blanket, wrapped up in each other as if there’s no one else in the world. She’s lying on her back, one arm stretched out, and you’re nestled into her side, one arm crossing her stomach, resting your head on her shoulder. Her fingers are softly tracing patterns on your arm, the touch light but grounding, as if she wants to memorize every part of you.

She pulls you closer, her arm shifting so it wraps fully around your shoulders, drawing you against her. Her cheek rests on top of your head, and you can feel the rise and fall of her chest with every steady breath. The cool night air settles around you, but her warmth, the way she holds you, feels like home.

With a soft sigh, Jinx shifts slightly, guiding you to lie even closer to her, your bodies pressed together. You look up, meeting her eyes, and she smiles—a gentle, vulnerable smile that’s just for you. She reaches up, her hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, letting her fingers linger as they trace the outline of your cheek.

“I don’t really… do this,” she says quietly, her voice almost a whisper against the stillness of the night. “But I guess… I like having you here. Like… a lot.”

You smile, snuggling deeper into her embrace, and she responds by shifting so you’re both facing each other, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Her fingers drift to the small of your back, holding you close, her forehead resting against yours.

“Can’t believe I’m getting all mushy,” she says, a soft laugh escaping her. But there’s no hint of her usual bravado. Just the gentle way her thumb strokes your back, the way her legs tangle with yours, drawing you closer than you thought possible.

“Maybe mushy isn’t so bad,” you murmur, letting your fingers glide along her shoulder. The warmth of her breath on your cheek sends a flutter through your chest as she tilts her head, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. It’s soft, sweet, and says more than words ever could.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her purple eyes holding a tenderness that’s rare, almost fragile. “Stay here with me, just like this,” she whispers, her voice a promise as her arms tighten around you.

And as you lie there, wrapped up in each other, you feel like the whole world could fade away, and you wouldn’t mind one bit. Because in this moment, under the stars, in her arms—everything is perfect.

The night feels endless and comforting as you lie together, wrapped in the warmth of each other and the blanket beneath you. You notice the subtle change in Jinx—her fingers tracing over your arm in a slower, almost hesitant way, and the way her gaze keeps drifting up to the stars, then back to you, like she’s working up the nerve to say something.

She pulls you even closer, her forehead resting against yours, and you feel her breath hitch, as if she’s caught off guard by the depth of her own emotions. Her usual playful grin is absent, replaced by a softer, almost shy smile as she holds you, her fingers brushing up and down your back.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks, her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. She doesn’t wait for your answer, like she’s afraid she’ll lose her courage if she does. “Being with you… it makes me feel like there’s this whole side of me I didn’t know I had. Like I finally found a place I don’t wanna run from.”

Her fingers pause, holding tightly to you as her eyes search yours, as if looking for reassurance. “I know I don’t usually get all sappy,” she mumbles, a nervous laugh escaping her, “but with you… it’s different. I feel… I don’t know.” She looks away for a second, biting her lip, and you can see a hint of red on her cheeks.

You smile, reaching up to touch her face, and she leans into your touch, closing her eyes as if letting herself savor this moment. When she opens them again, there’s something deeper there, a flicker of nervous anticipation that makes your heart skip.

“I guess… I just wanna keep you around,” she says, her words coming out quickly, almost stumbling over each other. Her hand fidgets on your arm, tracing slow circles as if she’s trying to calm herself down. “I mean… forever, if you’d want that. But, uh, you know, no pressure…”

She lets out a breathy laugh, her face flushed as she glances away, clearly flustered. “I’ve just… I’ve never felt like this before,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers tighten around yours, grounding herself in your touch. “And I don’t ever want it to end.”

You feel your chest swell, warmth spreading through you as her words settle in. You squeeze her hand in reassurance, your thumb brushing over her knuckles, watching as she relaxes slightly, a hint of her usual grin returning as she pulls you closer.

The peaceful night air shifts as you feel Jinx’s arms tighten around you. Her fingers have stopped their gentle tracing, and she lets out a shaky breath. She pulls back, glancing at you with wide eyes filled with something between excitement and nerves. You’ve seen Jinx look a lot of ways—confident, mischievous, bold—but this look is new. Almost vulnerable.

“C-can you… stand up for a sec?” she stammers, her voice catching slightly as she untangles herself from you, her hands lingering on your arms as if to steady herself.

Confused, but intrigued, you sit up and get to your feet. She follows, but instead of standing fully, she settles down onto one knee, looking up at you, her cheeks flushed and her fingers visibly trembling as she reaches into her pocket.

And then she pulls out a ring box, snapping it open to reveal a diamond ring that sparkles in the faint light from the city below—a ring so big and brilliant that it almost catches your breath.

Your mind goes blank for a moment, your heart racing as you process what’s unfolding in front of you. Your hand instinctively moves to cover your mouth, and you feel a wave of warmth rush through you, as if every beat of your heart is echoing, saying yes, yes, yes  This is Jinx, on one knee, her eyes searching yours with a mixture of hope and uncertainty that makes your chest tighten with pure emotion.

Jinx swallows hard, her voice a little shaky, and for a second, it’s like she’s struggling to find the words. “I… I know I’m not perfect. I’m reckless and a little… well, a lot chaotic. And I probably drive you insane half the time. But when I’m with you, I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

A soft, amazed laugh slips from you, but you don’t dare interrupt. You’re transfixed, every nerve ending attuned to her, to the way her thumb brushes over the diamond, grounding herself as she looks back up with those bright blue eyes, filled with more emotion than you’ve ever seen in them.

“I want this. Us. Forever.” Her voice steadies, her usual confidence returning as she looks up at you with a grin that’s all Jinx—playful, intense, and utterly devoted. “So, what do you say? Wanna make all my future trouble your problem, officially?”

Her question hangs in the air, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. The stars, the city lights below—they’re all background noise to the look on her face, hopeful and nervous, her heart wide open in a way she rarely shows. 

Your vision blurs as tears prick your eyes, and as you meet her gaze, you know there’s only one answer you’d ever give her.

Your heart feels like it might burst as you stare down at her, your mind racing to keep up with the whirlwind of emotions. There she is, Jinx, the wild, unpredictable force that turned your world upside down, now kneeling in front of you with an earnest, almost desperate look in her eyes.

She lets out a breathy laugh, scratching the back of her neck, her fingers still gripping the ring box. “You’re really quiet… Don’t leave me hanging here, or I might actually combust,” she says, flashing that familiar grin, though there’s a tremor to it, like she’s more vulnerable than she’s ever been.

You drop to your knees in front of her, taking her hands in yours. She stiffens in surprise, her cheeks flushed, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she watches you with a mix of relief and excitement, her lips parting slightly as you bring your hand to her cheek, brushing your thumb along her skin.

“Yes,” you breathe, and her face lights up, her eyes widening as the word sinks in. “Yes, I want everything with you, Jinx. Your trouble, your chaos, your everything.”

For a second, she’s stunned into silence, and then she’s laughing, a sound so bright and joyous that it fills the night air around you. She slides the ring onto your finger, her hands trembling a little as she presses a kiss to your knuckles, her lips soft and lingering.

“I can’t believe you said yes,” she whispers, pulling you into her arms as she tumbles back onto the blanket, bringing you down with her in a mess of tangled limbs and laughter. She holds you close, burying her face in your neck, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back as if grounding herself in this moment.

Her voice softens, barely audible against your skin. “You know, I never thought I’d be lucky enough to find someone who’d want me like this,” she admits, her voice thick with emotion. “But you… you’re everything.”

You pull back to look at her, your fingers brushing through her hair as you lean down to kiss her, slow and deep. Her arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer as if she never wants to let go.

As you lie together, wrapped in each other, the city below fades away, leaving only the two of you, and a new promise that stretches as endless as the stars above.

You pull back slightly, feeling a grin tug at the corners of your mouth as you look into her wide, sparkling eyes. Her fingers are still tracing along your back, but you reach into your own pocket, heart pounding as you remember the surprise you’d been carrying with you, waiting for the right moment—hoping, somehow, she’d want the same.

“Actually… I have something for you too,” you say softly, pulling out a small ring box and popping it open to reveal the ring you’d picked out for her.

Jinx’s eyes go wide, and then she throws her head back, bursting into laughter—a wild, joyous laugh that seems to echo into the night, filling the rooftop with her energy. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you close as her laughter vibrates against you, her eyes shining with delight.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” she gasps between laughs, barely able to keep it together as she looks at you, pure happiness radiating from her. “We really are perfect for each other, aren’t we?”

You laugh with her, wrapping your arms around her and burying your face in her shoulder, feeling her warmth and her heartbeat thrumming against yours. She lifts her head, meeting your gaze with a grin that’s soft yet brimming with excitement. “Alright, show me what you’ve got, babe,” she teases, still laughing.

With hands only slightly less shaky, you slide the ring onto her finger, her laughter turning into a warm, contented smile as she looks down at it. “Now it’s official,” she murmurs, her voice filled with awe as she squeezes your hand, her thumb brushing over the ring. “I’m yours.”

And then she pulls you down beside her again, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go, your shared laughter eventually quieting into soft murmurs as the two of you lie tangled together, fingers intertwined, hearts racing, your promises shining just as bright as the stars above.

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Aww I'm so happy to hear that, friend!! 🥰🥰

It's not a problem Dean, (the gun is obviously BUT) she is beautiful and you will love her and I will cry at your wedding.

Ehehe it's funny you mention their wedding...

Dean no. No feeling bad for saving your girl and for killing the "sack of shit in human clothes."

Ugh right? Trust, he doesn't regret killing that bastard loll.

Also I didn't notice the Colonel Sanderson thing before and now all I can think about is KFC lol.😂 Which is not to take away from how good this fic is or how well it's written. It's just me lol.

Actually THANK YOU for noticing that because Colonel Sanders was an intentional reference! lmao I saw some meme that called Asmodeus "Bullshit Colonel Sanders" and it made me cackle, so I included that a little bit here. 😂😂

Oh goodness she is already so protective of him and oh my word the wink had me melting lol.

See! It's not taking that long at all for her to start softening up towards him loll. At the very least, she doesn't want to see him killed for her after killing for her.

I also don't think that I mentioned this before, but I really like how you wove in the other characters in the show. Seeing Benny and Cas show up just made me so happy.

Aww thank you!! 🥰🥰 When it comes to AUs, I try my best to fit in canon characters where they make the most sense to me, and try to make them feel "as themselves" as possible.

Oh my word seeing that fight in my head, um... YES PLEASE. And the loyalty?! The love for their friend?! The "Goodbye brother."? It's so good.

Imagining Dean in uniform, even if he's fighting his friends, just does things to me too loll.

Ultimately, Benny and Cas are good men even in this world, and they didn't want to have to bring in him or Mila to the Colonel either. 💜

She's squishing his face! That is so cute, oh my stars. Plus I am cackling at how long it took him to be able to say her name.

Ahaha this was my favorite part to write for this chapter! Dean struggled, bless his heart. 🤣🤣🤣

I absolutely love this! I really love it when writers pick the names of their characters based on the meaning behind it. And the fact that you gave the meaning of her name a backstory of her mom having a dream and the butterfly meaning that Mila "would have a free mind" is just so perfect for her. Because she is stubborn and she does have "a free mind" by being rebellious and strong, by being a strong female character who does not conform to the whims of what other people deem to be appropriate for her. Also it was funny that Dean thought she was like a "lioness."

Aww thank you!! I'm usually pretty conscious of names and the meanings behind them, but especially in this story I got deep into the research of the Lakota people, and I found that names are very important to their culture, now and historically.

When I was looking for a name for her, Kimmímila stood out as being beautiful (with a nice nickname), but perhaps on surface level didn't reflect her true personality. So that's why I worked in that backstory with her mother's dream, vs. who she wanted her daughter to be, and who Mila considers herself to be. And bonus, what Dean observes of her! lol

So I absolutely love all of your observations here, because that's exactly what I intended for her!

This is a really wonderful line, that the war "never really ends." It really fits this story and honestly it really fits the entire early history of the United States when it was acquiring territory and embracing the "manifest destiny" ideals.

Aww thank you so much!! That's what I thought as well, not just for this story, but for the greater context of U.S. history during this time and the push to industrialize the entire country.

Okay, the whole part where she is explaining things about her life and her culture was so sweet. Them opening up with one another is just so soft and a little fluffy and I'm so glad that they got to have those gentle moments with one another. Not to mention this bit where Dean admits how much he likes listening to her, is just so good lol. And I thought it was really on brand for him to be a little upset that she doesn't completely trust him yet, even though that he killed one of his men. But he's got to learn to be patient... and then propose. LOL.

That was so fun for me too! The "getting to know you" aspect. I thought that opening up to one another was needed here, and it gave an opportunity for more historical tidbits!

Ahaha yep, she's a hard nut to crack, but Dean need only be patient. He's won a lot more brownie points with her than he realizes. 😏 "And then propose" -- I'm weeeak!! 🤣

Don't be afraid to admit it Mila, we all know how good he is to look at. And why shouldn't you look at your future husband? 💍

Ha!! Ikr?? Also, you're getting dangerously warm to what's coming in Part 3. ❤️‍🔥

Oh my sweet goodness, the TENSION!! This is so good my friend and I am so excited for what the future of this series holds and am praying that it doesn't end in death!😬💗

The romantic tension is real!! lmaoo

Thank you so, so much, friend!! Part 3 is my favorite part, I think, and I hope you'll be happy with the outcome, even though we've got a fair bit of action and angst ahead...

The Honorable Choice - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: “Getting to know you, getting to know all about you…” ⬅️ If you’ve seen The King & I, then you’ll probably be singing that line in your head like I do.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 3.1K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, protective Dean, historical tidbits, fluff

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 2: Death & Sacrifice

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and the hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 

He just can’t do it.

His finger eases off the trigger of his gun, and he lowers it to the ground beside him.

“I told you,” he says. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Her head tilts as she stares at his gun, then at him. She relaxes somewhat, and she backs off of him, sliding from his lap down to the grass beside him. Her closed fist with the knife comes to rest at her side. She gives him a look of wary bewilderment.

“You are a strange man,” she says.

Dean has to laugh a little, smiling at her afterward.

“I guess so,” he replies.

Her brows furrow. “You killed one of your own…for me?”

He nods, and his smile falls with a weary sigh. The hard part about that is he doesn’t feel much guilt about what he’s done. At the same time, he does, and the conflict churns in his stomach. He knew what kind of man Roman was. He was the kind of soldier that could’ve filled Colonel Sanderson’s shoes one day. A fellow soldier under Dean’s command...

And a sack of shit in human clothes.

Dean leans back on his hands in the grass and slides his legs out long. His stare falls to the earth between his boots. The ground is soft underneath him. Maybe it rained this morning. 

“Yeah, that’s gonna make it tough when I go back,” he says. “At best, that’s a court martial. At worst…”

The Lakota woman frowns, her dark brows nearly meeting in the middle as she considers him. He wonders what she sees when she looks at him.

“Tell you what,” Dean said. “Give yourself and your horse a rest tonight. I’ll go back and tell them I lost you in the canyon.”

Her eyes widen further in surprise. He can’t blame her for it. He’s surprising himself every time he opens his mouth.

“Will they kill you?” she asks.

Dean shrugs. “Nah, I’ll be fine.”

She levels him with a firmer look, one that demands the truth.

His nonchalance wanes, and he sighs.

“They might,” he says.

She shakes her head. She seems to deliberate over something, but eventually she comes to a decision. Just when she opens her mouth to speak, a gunshot rings out and hits the ground not far from their feet. A warning.

The sound of hooves thundering on the earth reach them before they look up. Two horses gallop towards them in the distance, their riders wearing blue uniforms.

They both tense up, but Dean is the first one to move. He grabs her arm and helps her stand along with him. They scramble back and lead the horses by their reins further into the trees. They find a denser patch and a raised hill to crouch down and hide behind.

The mustang is too tired to go very far, but Baby is already making anxious sounds, protective of her rider.

“Shhh,” Dean whispers, and runs a soothing hand over her side. He leads her to lay down with her legs tucked underneath her.

The Lakota manages to do the same with the mustang after whispering to him softly in her language. There’s a trust between them, Dean realizes. They have a connection that seems to mirror his own with his horse. He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before.

“Captain!” Benny calls out.

Dean grimaces, but he stays quiet. He turns to the woman and holds a finger over his lips. She stares back at him in apprehension. He begins to creep slowly around the hill, but she grabs onto his wrist. For a second, she looks just as surprised as him by the reflexive action. Then, she shakes her head at him.

Don’t go out there, her eyes say.

Dean smiles, and he gives her a reassuring wink. He gently removes her hand and gestures at her to stay where she is. He army crawls up the side of the hill. It gives him a vantage point to watch his men, who approach just a few feet down below. 

“Captain Winchester!” Cas calls next.

“We don’t want to have to come and get you, Dean. Come on,” Benny says. He does sound reluctant, for his part. His voice grows more somber when he says, “Colonel’s given us orders to bring you and the girl back…dead or alive.”

Dean knows the position he’s put his own men in. He doesn’t blame them for following the Colonel’s orders. He just hopes they can forgive him for what he’s about to do.

He leaps off the edge of the hill with a yell and brings Benny with him to the ground. He sweeps Cas’s legs out from underneath him, then tosses a punch that lands on the corner of Benny’s chin. He kicks Benny’s gun away, and wrestles Cas until his pistol falls from his hand. The three men scrap and trade blows, until Dean is the only one left standing. His men are groaning on the dusty ground, slowly picking themselves up.

Dean’s heaving for breath as well as he leans back against the side of the hill. Despite that momentary victory, he knows what they all know: that this fight isn’t going to end until either they’re dead, or he’s dead.

“Where’s the girl, Dean?” Benny says. He implores him to see sense. “We take her back with us, we can smooth all this over with the Colonel. All of it, even Roman.” 

Dean lets out a deep breath, but he shakes his head.

“Can’t do that, Benny,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a question circling in his friend’s eyes, but after a beat, Benny seems to know the answer to it. He picks up his gun from the ground. Just like Dean once did, the Lieutenant now has a choice to make.

He shares a heavy look with Cas. The two of them nod, before they focus back on Dean.

Benny’s hand falls, and he stows his gun.

“You died today,” Benny says. “We found your body somewhere in the canyon. Your horse too.”

Dean nods, with something of a smile. He supposes faking his death is the only option now. He rips the badge off his uniform jacket and tosses it to Benny.

“There’s your proof,” he says.

Dean shares a grim nod of respect with Cas while Benny examines the torn patch denoting a captain’s rank.

“Take care of each other,” Dean says.

Benny’s head raises, and he meets Dean with a somber gaze.

“Goodbye, brother.”

Dean doesn’t return to her until the men are out of sight through the trees. She’s still hiding along with the resting horses, waiting for him. That alone surprises him. It would bring a small smile to his face, if the weight of that goodbye didn’t feel so heavy on his shoulders.

He reaches out a hand for her. It takes her a moment to consider it, but she accepts his offer.

He helps her to her feet, after which, she quickly pulls her hand back. She’s wary of his touch, her face guarded when she looks up at him. Dean supposes he can’t blame her, even if it does strike a nerve. After what he just did for her…

His face becomes stoic, and he turns away to grab his hat from the dusty ground. “We should probably head out.”

She nods and calls to her horse to encourage him to his feet. Despite himself, Dean can't help but be curious. How did this girl manage to tame that wild beast?

“Does he have a name?” he asks.

“Mato,” she replies.

“Mato,” Dean echoes. “Does that mean something? You know, in your language.”

She eyes him wryly, brushing her hand over Mato’s hide.

“It means angry, like a bear,” she says.

Dean snorts. “Yeah, good name.”

He remembers his bruised side (and ego) from when the mustang threw him off his back.

Dean watches her with another realization as she gracefully mounts the horse. Baby has gotten up to her feet as well, already nudging the back of his arm with her snout. He rubs her nose in affection.

Then he turns to climb up onto her back, settling his feet into the stirrups and loosely grabbing the reins. He follows his companion’s lead farther into the forest, but he guides his horse to fall into step beside hers.

“Will you tell me your name now?” he asks. “Think we’ve been through enough together at this point, don’t you think?”

She considers it with a tilt of her head. She looks over at him with a small smile.

“Kimmímila,” she says. The syllables roll off her tongue effortlessly.

Dean raises his brows. “Kim…Kimmeela.”

She shakes her head at him, her lips pursing.

“Kimmímila.”

Lord help him, but he tries his best. His brows furrow.

“Kim…mila,” he attempts. She guides Mato closer and grabs Dean by his cheeks with one hand.

“Kimmí.”

“Kimmí,” he repeats with his cheeks squished. His face is starting to warm up, and not altogether in embarrassment.

“Mila,” she says with a nod.

“Mila,” Dean says. “Kimmímila.”

He’s treated to her smile, warm and true. She releases him, her gaze flitting over his face. Then she keeps riding. Dean grins to himself.

“Think I’m gonna call you Mila,” he says. Make it easier on myself.

She even laughs, a honeyed sound. “Yes, my father does too.”

“What does it mean? Your name.”

“In your language?” she says, in a tone that teases him back. She becomes thoughtful as she searches for the word. “It means…butterfly.”

“Really?” Dean remarks. She doesn’t strike him as a butterfly.

More like a lioness, he thinks, only somewhat holding back his grin.

She gives him some side-eye, despite her amusement.

“You think it does not suit me,” she observes.

“Well, I didn't say that—”

“I don’t think so either,” she admits. “There are many things that don’t suit me.”

Dean chuckles. He can imagine that.

“But my mother had a dream before I was born,” Mila says. “She saw beautiful wings, and said I would have a free mind. When I grew, and wanted to spend my days with horses more than cooking and sewing things, she didn’t call me free. She called me stubborn.” Her face begins to fall. “Maybe too stubborn.”

Dean offers her a rueful, sympathetic look. “Yeah, I get it. My brother always said I was damn hardheaded,” he says. “…Maybe we’ve got more in common than we thought, huh?”

Mila’s smile returns, however slightly.

“You have a brother?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah. He’s a lawyer, so he’s more needed back home,” Dean replies.

Damn. He really does miss his bookish little brother.

He explains to her about his family, his brother and mother who still live in Lawrence, and how he joined the army, in part to honor his father.

“What happened to him?” she asks.

“He died…in some cornfield near Sharpsburg, Maryland, fighting the Confederacy,” he replies, heaving a breath.

"Con...federacy?" she questions.

"The South," Dean explains. "See, most of our southern states thought they should be their own country, letting slaves plow their fields and mind their kids. I may have lived on a farm, but my father always paid his workers. He fought for the Union."

"So you fought among yourselves, over land that did not belong to you," Mila points out.

Dean falls silent. After a little while, he concedes her point with an incline of his head.

"Fair enough," he says, glancing over at her. “I think my dad thought the fighting would end with the war, but, uh...it never really ends, does it?”

Her expression of curiosity fades, turning more solemn.

“No,” she agrees. “…I am sorry for your father.”

Dean's a little surprised to hear that from her, but he nods his thanks. They continue to talk as the sun begins to set in the west. When it dips behind the canyon, they stop to make camp for the night, and he helps her catch a rabbit to roast on the fire they build together.

That night over the meal, she slowly opens up to him. He learns that she’s an only child, though she has a sibling-like bond with her older cousin, Šóta. She spends most of her days planting or harvesting their crops, depending on the season, as well as sewing, painting, helping the elders of her tribe with tasks, and helping her mother and aunt cook.

When the rabbit is gone, she unbinds her long, thick hair and untangles it while she speaks. She explains that the Lakota are just one of many tribes. There are six other bands of Sioux who live in this region. Along with the Dakota and the Nakota, they are the “Seven Council Fires” who have made the Great Plains their home for generations.

She tells him about the way her tribe lives, caring for one another, giving the land back as much as they take, and letting it rest. The men hunt and protect the village from the outside, but the women protect the inside, their way of life.

Most of all, Mila tells him, she loves caring for the horses. She goes out and rides whenever she can duck out of her mother’s watchful eye.

Dean enjoys listening to her stories. He likes what he learns about her, but also, he just likes the sound of her voice, smooth and steady, almost calming. He thinks she might like the sound of his too, the way she’s smiled at him, laughed with him, glanced at him when she thinks he’s not looking.

She still picks a spot as far away from him as she can to sleep though. She keeps the fire pit in between them. He even catches sight of her knife, hidden in the hand she tucks underneath her cheek. Evidently, she doesn’t fully trust him just yet.

It annoys him at first, considering how many times he’s saved her already. How much he’s sacrificed just to get them this far…

Until he remembers how they met. He remembers the disdain and anger in her brown eyes, then the mistrust, and the fear hidden underneath. He thinks of every experience she’s likely had so far with the U.S. Military, and anyone else who looks like him.

Dean settles down on the ground and stares up at the innumerable stars in a raven sky. He’s exhausted, but his thoughts don’t let him rest for a while. 

At the very least, the way she looks at him now is softer than that first day.

In the morning, Mila watches the strange man wake.

He blinks and rubs his bleary eyes, yawning, groaning at the sun’s brightness like a child. She hides her smile by bowing her head over the apple she’s cutting with her knife. The orchards span wide across the forest, and soon he’ll find two yellow-red apples beside his head.

His brows raise at them, then he looks up at Mila sitting with her legs crossed behind the small fire pit. The wood there is just ash and blackened remains now, but it still carries the smell of burning.

“Morning,” he greets.

She nods back at him and pretends not to watch when he sits up with a groan, stretching and bending his arms high behind his head. He removed his uniform jacket to sleep. It allows her to see every dip of male muscle that his plain white shirt clings to, even in the long sleeves.

Her gaze furtively runs over the broad shoulders, the tapered waist, then back up to his half-bearded face, defined by a strong jaw and dark brows. The sun catches on his brown hair and teases the ends of it golden.

She would never admit it, but he’s not unpleasant to look at. 

Last night, she declined his offer to travel with her until she reaches her tribe safely, but he was insistent. Again, strange.

So here she is, with him. Here they are. 

Dean turns to see the horses grazing nearby. Mato no longer has the saddle and bridle his men put on him. He looks rested and at ease. He even whinnies at Baby, tossing his head a little. She answers him and flicks her tail. They continue eating together.

Dean smiles, then grabs an apple. He raises it to her in thanks before he takes a large bite. Its juices run down the corner of his mouth, and he wipes at it with the back of his hand. Mila can’t help but be drawn to the sight.

She tears her eyes away when he looks over at her.

“We have a long way to go. Three days, if the weather is good,” she says, continuing to carve pieces of her apple to eat. “We will know we are close when we reach the river.”

Dean nods in understanding. With a grunt, he gets to his feet and takes another bite out of his breakfast. She doesn’t expect the way he approaches her with a hand outstretched. She looks up at it, then at his expectant face.

“Come on. Let’s hit the road then,” he says.

Mila considers his offer for another moment. He seems to be making this a habit. Amused, she wonders if this is just kindness, or if the women of his people aren’t allowed to stand without a man’s help.

She pockets her knife, swipes her braided hair over her shoulder, and slips her hand into his, allowing him to help her to her feet. When she gets there, he’s closer than he should be.

A breath gets trapped in her throat as she once again looks between his warm hand closed over her smaller one, and his face. In the small space between them, there is a different kind of tension than before. Mila can’t tell what the man is thinking when he looks at her like that, but she doesn’t like it.

And at the same time, she does.

She takes back her hand, and she goes to the horses. She firmly ignores how her heart gallops, even as she rubs at her chest like it’s an ache that can be soothed.

She doesn’t hear Dean’s unsteady breath, nor does she see the way his green eyes follow her.

AN: *rubs hands together* Well, here they are! It's all starting to come together. What did you think of Dean's decision?

Coming up next, we have the final part: some action, some fluff, and some potentially perilous situations for Mila and Dean...

Next Time:

“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”

Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.

“I will protect you,” she says.

Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Mila…”

“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

COMING 11/17! (New chapters every Sunday.)

Or read Part 3 on Patreon now!

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[gumnut-logic]

Lego Volcano (Part 5)

Alexander Sweetapple series | Lego Volcano - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

It has been some time, and some of this fic has been sitting on my hard drive waiting for attention since May (wow) but tonight I finally started writing more of this. Writing muscles are still a bit rusty, but fortunately I know mostly where this is going. There is more written so hopefully I can post that soon, too.

I also feel that some fo this might be a bit familiar as there have been a lot of WIP Wednesdays since May and I have the vague feeling I posted some of this already, but there is new stuff here as well.

This one continues to be @idontknowreallywhy, @sofasurf, @womble1 and @sailing-on-a-puddle and other wonderful Thunderfam peeps' fault :D

@onereyofstarlight has been her usual amazing self, even rereading this whole thing from the beginning and helping me out with some of her specialities as well :D Thank you so much for your wonderfulness :D

This is Alexander Sweetapple so the fic is m/m. If that isn't your jam, this isn't your bread. Though I will admit, there is very little of that in this bit as Scotty is the one who is having a hard time this time :D

As always, so many thanks to Thunderfam for being the amazing kind fandom it is ::hugs the lot of you::

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Being ever so competitive, all the Tracy brothers knew how to get to any part of the villa in the shortest possible time.

Gordon availed himself of that fact the moment John called him.

He had been putting on his swim trunks ready for his morning foray in the pool. Moments later saw him leaping a Lego volcanic island and landing smoothly enough amongst the bricks to slide to Alex’s side.

“What happened?”

Alex had laid Scott in the recovery position. “He has a fever.”

Gordon ran through vitals without thought.

Scott groaned and attempted to shove him away.

“Yo, Scooter, you’re on the floor clocking a temperature somewhere in the hundreds. Give yourself a break.”

His brother mumbled something and tried to roll over and get up.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Gordon grabbed him as Alex scuttled out of the way. “You are staying put until Grandma gets here.”

As if summoned by her callsign, their grandmother hurried into the room. “Scott, honey, what happened?” She stepped lightly over the Lego scattered across the floor and knelt down beside her grandson.

“I’m’kay, Granma.” Scott pushed himself into a sitting position.

Gordon growled at him, but placed a hand on his back, not convinced he wouldn’t fall over again.

“Looks like you’ve picked up Virgil’s flu, honey.”

Scott swore.

“Gordon, please find us a hoverstretcher.”

And that was how Gordon found himself dragging an obstinate and complaining, cranky big brother up to the infirmary and tucking him into a bed. The protests were of legendary proportions until Grandma brought them to a firm halt.

“I’m fine, Grandma.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’ve got work to do.”

“You’ve got resting to do.” She switched off the scanner and turned to put it away.

“Gordon, stop fussing!” And yes, his hands were swiped at.

He took a step back. “Fine, oh great Commander, tuck yourself in.”

And there it was, his feverish and ill brother trying to be big brother but running out of resources and struggling to hold himself up. Wet, blue eyes attempting stoicism and failing. Damnit, Scott, why do you do this?!

“International Rescue, we have a situation.” John popped up by the bed.

Oh, for the love of-!

Scott sat up, ramrod straight in the bed. “Go ahead, John.”

“We’ve got a cargo freighter foundering off the Great Barrier Reef.”

Gordon exploded. “What?! How the hell did they even get near it? Those are sanctuary waters!” Goddamnit! The remains of the Great Barrier Reef were a World Heritage Treasure. The Supreme Barrier Reef was an attempt to save the ecological system. What little was left of the actual reef off the coast of Australia was ever so precious. How the hell had they ended up in those waters at all?

John, as usual, was calm, but his expression said everything. “Investigating as we speak.” In other words, both he and Eos were out for blood.

Gordon let out a breath. Damn it was good to have a family to depend on.

“Thunderbird Two and Four responding. Get Alan down here. I need transport.”

“Gordon!”

He turned to his beloved eldest brother who was radiating heat like a blast furnace. “Alan and I have this, Commander. You’re staying in bed.” Moving towards the door, he almost collided with Alex. Stumbling, he gestured with a firm finger at Scott. “Make sure he stays put.”

Gordon tore out of the room at a run.

He had a reef, and possibly a few people, to save.

-o-o-o-

It had all happened so fast.

And Alex had no idea what he should be doing right now. He stood beside the door, not sure what to do with his hands, feet, or any body part really.

From the moment he caught Scott, events had just happened around him. The Tracy family responded smoothly and well-practised and before he knew it, Gordon was out the door, and Alex was left in the infirmary with a weak but literally vibrating Mr Tracy.

Mrs Tracy had looked at her watch and cursed. A firm finger and quiet word with the bed ridden man and she was hurrying out the door as fast as her grandchildren had moments before.

But she did brush her fingertips across Alex’s shoulder as she passed, catching his eyes enough to reinforce Gordon’s wish to keep Mr Tracy where he was.

How the hell was he going to do that?

In the distance, Alex heard the roar of Thunderbird Two as she launched from the Island.

Virgil was not going to be happy.

He let out a breath. That’s where he should be now. Virgil would be clambering out of bed. There was no way he would not respond to that sound.

A rustle of sheets and Mr Tracy was sitting upright again. “Thunderbird Five, give me comms.”

“Negative, Thunderbird One.”

“John-“

“Thunderbird Prime’s orders. You’re on sick leave, One.”

Mr Tracy swore dirty, very much not the calm, cool professional Alex was used to.

“Rest, Scooter. We’ve got this.” And the line cut out.

The man on the bed deflated like a balloon, falling back onto the mattress almost as limp as when Alex had first caught him.

An arm came up over his eyes and a barely discernible whisper crossed his lips. “Goddamnit.”

-o-o-o-

Mr Tracy lay there like that for enough time for Alex to think he had fallen asleep.

Should he leave or go? Both Gordon and Mrs Tracy had asked him to stay…really ‘ordered’ him to stay. But Virgil…

Virgil needed Alex to give him permission to relax. Virgil needed Alex to drag him back to bed to stop his headlong run into work and exhaustion.

Yet Virgil was reportedly the level-headed brother.

Virgil had often described Mr Tracy as the embodiment of his Thunderbird - fast, impatient, determined, and consequently ridiculously prone to working himself into collapse.

In Virgil’s case, it was a pot and kettle situation, but after tonight’s demonstration, Alex had first-hand experience and there was the distinct possibility that Mr Tracy would do exactly what Virgil predicted.

As if the thought was permission, Mr Tracy rolled over in the bed and pushed himself into a sitting position.

Alex blinked. “Do you really want to do that?”

The man jumped, tired eyes latching onto him and widening. “Alex?”

Stepping forward, Alex held up a hand. “I’m sorry, Mr Tracy, Mrs Tracy said you need to stay in bed.”

Those blue eyes blinked once sharply and then again but slower. “There’s a situation.” His words were running into each other.

Alex took another step closer. “Mr Tracy, you need to rest.”

He looked away, mumbling something.

“Mr-“

“Alex, my name is Scott.”

“Sorry, sir.”

That drew those eyes back to him, if only for them to roll as Mr Tracy let himself fall back onto the bed. “Augh, Alex.”

“Sorry, s-“

The man grunted.

“-cott.”

A more positive grunt and he shifted on the bed, pulling the covers over himself before fixing his eyes once again on Alex.

Those eyes had so much power.

“So, Grandma has you sitting guard.” It wasn’t a question, more of a challenge.

Alex straightened his spine. “I guess so.”

There was steel in that tired blue, but Alex held on.

Just long enough for Mr Tracy to sigh and relax back into the bed and close his eyes. “Fine.”

There was silence after that. If Alex was working for any other employer than the Tracys, he might have been afraid that he was throwing away his career future.

He wasn’t.

The silence stretched on and Alex resisted the urge to fidget. But then a soft snore wafted up from the bed.

It was followed by another.

Oh, thank god.

Alex wilted where he stood, suddenly aware of exactly how early in the morning it was. A chair beside the bed beckoned, so Alex edged over as silently as possible and curled up.

He watched the bed covers move evenly up and down as Scott slept.

Up and down.

In and out.

Up and…down.

His eyes dropped closed.

-o-o-o-

Next

[impostorsshow]

I'm actually so obsessed with him it's not even funny if i'm not listening to a TikTok or music directly related to him I can't focus free me free me

This is @/cherubpuppet's OC for a object show [au? pitch? wip show? How do I categorize this] and I've been destroyed by the fact that ruler art is infinitely superior [and 10x longer] and i don't have a good enough grasp on lip gloss's personality to make fanfiction so I am frozen in "want make fanart but fanart takes effort :["

[lususnatura]

🎤 🎤 🎤

a song that i associate with my muse meme!

AHH, hey, ramone!! thank you for sending in this prompt :D since you sent in three of the mic's, i shall now be treating you to three songs that make me think of blamore when i hear them / that i associate with it. an explanation of why i chose them will be in the tags <3

hozier - who we are.

icehouse - crazy.

depeche mode - personal jesus.

[musingmycelium]

. noncoherent but also thoughts

[omarwolaeth]

thinking 'bout how the lads interact with what the bracelets represent, especially in their decks

[crossbackpoke-check]

"This extra space next to me belongs to you. I know where I end now. I won't get lost." -- shoot me (metaphorically) and leave me for dead (metaphorically) why won't you. To make this about Dylan and maybe it's about Connor, maybe it's about Brinksy, maybe it's about any journeyman in the NHL. My brain screamed Chris Driedger and his memorable (to me) Players' Tribune article:

And how can you mention Dylan and Zach (Za-ach, the way Dylan says it) without me having a breakdown about them? You simply can't. And for the younger dudes, maybe it's a little Bords/Briss, not yet steady in The Show, a little bit of distance, a summer that tries to erase and make up all the memories they've made separately... and then a blurry insta story in Vegas. Just like old times but somewhere else. Maybe it's not the same bed, maybe it's not the same set of forks, but maybe it's the principle of the thing.

Anyway, goodbye. Sorry for this, your tag walls make me break out in imagined scenarios.

Much love. xxx

please never be sorry for sending me messages <3 i love reading them i love getting them i think they’re beautiful and i love them i’m!!!!! [🥹💕🦋🫧✨💘😭 <- the best approximation of what my heart is doing]

ok NOW i am taking this step by step because every narrative here kicked me straight in the knees (metaphorically) i am w e e p i n g (literally): i knew tangentially about chris driedger going to seattle but i had never read his players’ tribune love letter to seattle & all i can say is oh. oh. and with the part about trains delayed but still being right on time—

sometimes a dream is a truth your heart knows long before you do. the space that the city and the team made for him (“you’d be the only guy on the team”)🗣️🗣️🗣️ !!! but the way that chris talks about needing to put in the work & leo not letting him quit,,, that’s chris filling up the teakettle with twice as much water, crowding one side of the bed (falling asleep against a bus window dreaming), becoming unburdened by the idea of not being their guy, not having the fallback being their draft pick to content and settle himself with. that’s chris betting on a future. that’s the train coming down the tracks, right on time.

(i am feeling unhinged about it)

SECOND. i know i was the one that said zach and dylan to start so technically i brought this on myself but also i have been ktfo by the mere mention of the way that dylan says zach’s name different from everyone else, stealing an extra breath, stealing as much time as he can get with him, which reminded me of a poem i just read:

The Need Is So Great, Jim Moore

^^^dylan still in love with zach even as he’s leaving, can feel himself losing him, and taking every sliver of the love in his smile that he can get. even if he knows zach doesn’t still feel the same way he’s drawing out the long goodbye & saying i love you in a thousand ways without ever saying it out loud (“i have been asking for a time but in ways that have no words” because he doesn’t want to ask too much, to ask for love) in the hope that zach will say it back OKAY I’M LEAVING i can’t do this

that was a lie because THREE. “maybe it’s the principle of the thing” please insert the most ungodly screech how could you just (lovingly) come in straight with the steel chair and bean me upside the head with that l i n e i think this story has the potential for such tragedy in it but also the most tender domestic longing because bords & briss have known each other for a long time (i think) and guys do sometimes lose themselves when they first get to the nhl.

it’s a big scene, you’re with big name guys, you’re finally doing the thing you always dreamed about, you’re no longer necessarily the best because everyone’s the best, you’re not sure how you fit in, you can get lost in the glitz and the glamor of it but you can also literally get lost in it, the slog of the season and getting caught up and down between teams and leagues and endless airports and buses and travel and ice rinks, losing your phone (accidental) and having new people hound you for quotes and fame and connection so you lose your phone (on purpose) and i think where i’m trying to go is: this could play out as the tragedy of borde going to the california coastline and briss shipping off to the vegas strip and both of them getting a little lost.

maybe there’s someone else, maybe i am steadfastly not thinking about “a summer that tries to erase and make up all the memories they've made separately” as either a summer of them pretending things are ok after a year of barely speaking and now being completely different people they never were before OR a summer of them trying to pretend like they can forget about each other because maybe they didn’t think their relationship was the same thing, is all, when they were or weren’t together. maybe it’s nobody’s fault but for the fact that they were scared and tired and lonely trying to make it in the big times and didn’t know how to show it. and then borde shows up with takeout and plastic forks in vegas and it’s december and nothing like winter in ann arbor and still they fill up all the empty spaces in each other with the things they didn’t know they’d miss until they were gone and this is the real thing, not whatever they were trying too hard to be, to recreate their own nostalgia for the love in their memories. it’s the principle of the thing, is all, to always be true to the love they have right now & not what they think it should be.

sorry that i wrote you kind of an essay of an answer but i had so so so many thoughts because your ask was so lovely so thank you for sending it to me (you are always welcome to!! i love your imagined scenarios!!! cannot even explain how much!!!) & thank you for taking the time to read my walls of tags :))) <3

[valleyfthdolls]

But god if I’m not thinking about the fact that Cassidy was abandoned in that fucking storage closet

[sitronsangbody]

Please, please be considerate of your fat friends' needs and limitations. Fat bodies are heavy to carry around. I move about the world slower than my thin peers, and I've often had to choose between pushing myself to keep a pace that takes absolutely all my energy, or being left behind, when walking in a group. I don't always feel safe to ask that everyone walk slower, because there's a prevalent idea in society that fat people need to exert themselves as much as possible at all times in the service of weight loss, and that we never "really" need rest, therefore it's a good thing whenever we're exhausted. Fat people and thin people alike are taught that fatness is a flaw, one that fat people ourselves are to blame for, so we're not entitled to any accommodation or consideration. A friend of mine who is fat recently told me about a dinner party she went to where the chairs were far too small for her and she was sitting very uncomfortably. After the meal she politely suggested moving the party to the couch, but the others didn't want to. She spent another couple of hours in unnecessary pain, and didn't dare tell them about it. I love my thin friends, but some of them just don't realize that I weigh probably twice as much as them, and yet I balance it all on the same size feet and carry it on about the same size bones. I'm like if they had a whole other them to carry around at all times. Why would that not have an impact on how I function? Please - take us into consideration when we're part of activities. Ask us which activities work and which don't. Adjust the pace so no one has to be dry heaving and sweating barrels on what's supposed to be a casual walk. Make sure venues have seating that fits us. Make it safe for us to speak up if we need something. When we do, don't treat us like we're the problem. Finally: yes, we have heard of losing weight. Even those of us who might (and many never will, whether you like it or not), won't do it on a moment's notice. If your response to "fat people deserve accommodations" is "what if they weren't fat though", you're playing a fantasy game. It's pointless. We are fat and we are here and we do partake in society. Work with that.