#and the other characters all humor and/or snark at him for it

[kurokoros]

still mad that we didn't get Vecna possessing Steve. haha silly Steve who asks stupid questions and everyone dunks on as if he's not an athlete and one of the better combatants in the group. Steve, who knocked out a trained soldier at 19. Steve, who has been beaten to hell every season and gotten right back up afterwards. just goofy old Steve.

but what if Steve wasn't actually Steve anymore?

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

For the yandere! Justice League x assistant reader, how would they react if they had Deadpool as a friend? Like he randomly shows up. They would try to keep the reader as far away from him as possible, but it's Deadpool. Lol. How would Yandere Justice League feel if the reader liked Deadpool because he's funny and makes the reader laugh even if in a tense situation, randomly just talking about nonsense and/or making funny jabs at some of Justice League members? Not only that, but he would just annoy them for his and the reader's amusement. I can also imagine Wonder Woman or Superman trying to kill/critically injure him but finding out he has a super healing ability. LOL. I can imagine the scene where Deadpool punches Colossus, but his hand breaks, then he tries again while saying, "Cock shot!" but his other hand breaks. Instead, he does it to Superman and says, "Oh, your poor Lois Lane!" I feel like that would make the reader laugh out loud.

I finally saw the Deadpool & Wolverine movie, and I loved it! So now I want to see more content about Deadpool. I forget how funny he can be. I would like you to add a Deadpool & Wolverine, but I don't know if you have seen the movie yet. But I recommend you go and watch the movie.

A Day in Life: Best Friends Forever

Synopsis: A day in your life where a visit from your friend ends up in Deadpool losing his thumbs and re-attaching them back.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Gn!Assistant!Reader; Platonic!Deadpool

Tw: 18+; No spoilers from the movie; Some violence; Light gore descriptions (not really); Some sexual comments (it's Deadpool); English is my 2nd language.

Word count: 830

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: I loved this request, saw the movie on like the same week it came out, sorry this took so long</3

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

— So that's what happens when I’m not around, huh?! — Hal Jordan snarked, faking amusement by the sight in front of him, but being very much not amused.

How? Was the question going through everyone's minds, as they watched their dear assistant (Y/N), in the middle of Hall of Justice, chatting away with a very infamous criminal known all around the hero-villain underground, who every single soul despised, and yet, there you were, choking your laughter and in tears with Deadpool, acting as if you've been friends all your life.

Diana was the first one to approach, followed by the rest of the Justice League.

— (Y/N), is this man bothering you? — She squared up and stared directly on Deadpool’s blank white lenses. That grounded you and helped you come back from the stories your friend was telling you.

— B-Bothering me? — Your laughter slowly died down, and you wiped your tears. — No, we’re just talking. — You shrugged and sniffled, so happy that a genuine smiled was fixed on your face, hypnotizing all the heroes for a moment.

— Wonder Woman! — Deadpool gave little fangirl jumps. Diana swallowed a groan. — It’s amazing to see you again! I’m even wearing my fanciest anal plug and thinking about you, all in your honor. — Diana couldn't control the disgusted and astounded expression on her face, while Wade saluted her. You bite your lips to not giggle.

— Don't be silly, Pool. Not everyone understands your humor. — You lightly slapped his shoulder and he sighed.

— I know! That's why I'm so introverted and depressed! — He shook his head. — That's why Disney sold me to DC, they couldn't handle my deep and complex character. Let's hope James Gunn knows what he's doing now. — Everyone, including you, furrowed their eyebrows, but no one decided to question what the hell he was talking about, since the mercenary was known for being insane. — And just after my third movie with Wolvie came out! Unbelievable. — He threw his hands in the air and shook his head while looking at an empty space as if there was someone there. He did that sometimes.

— You seem… Close. W-When did that happen, (N/N)? — Flash looked between you and Deadpool, biting his lower lip, slightly anxious. You blinked.

— Oh, well. Like, a few months ago? He sent his curriculum because he wanted to be part of the Justice League. There were no records of him in the system so I Interviewed him. Obviously he didn't pass, but we became good friends! — You shrugged with an easy smile.

— That's… Great, (N/N). — You narrowed your eyes on Hal Jordan.

— Hey… — Deadpool's mask gave the slightest hint that he was furrowing his eyebrows, and he pointed at Green Lantern. — (Y/N) told me about you. I don't like you. — He took his guns out of the holsters and pointed at the brunette. You gasped and stepped back, slightly regretting having told Wade about that. — STEP BACK WORST RYAN REYNOLDS SUPERHERO MOVIE OR I’M GONNA BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT IN 4K R-RATED! — Hal raised his arms. He was already on thin ice with you, and beating your bestie would probably be a bad idea to start over.

Batman grunted for someone to cover your eyes and threw two batarangs that disarmed Deadpool before he could react. Deadpool gasped and looked at the ground wide eyed. His thumbs had been chumped off in the ordeal (Batman was jealous and also knew he would just regenerate).

— WHAT? WHAT’S HAPPENING? — You blindly yelled, since Superman had zoomed to just behind you and was covering your eyes.

— HE CASTRATED ME! — Deadpool cried, reaching back for his swords, but since he didn't have thumbs anymore, he couldn't even hold them, making him just cry more from frustration. — THE DADDY ISSUES JUST GET WORSE! AND JUST BECAUSE I WAS READY TO BE ADOPTED BY YOU! — Batman furrowed his eyebrows at the mention of him having more than just one kid.

— Guys, we should all just calm down. — Flash tried to play the pacifist, standing in the middle of the chaos with his hands up, but Wade’s cries were covering his voice.

— WHAT'S HAPPENING? — You tried to tug Superman’s hands off, but he didn't let up, and started trying to sooth you.

Deadpool got to his knees and pathetically tried to push one of his thumbs into place, trying to accelerate his healing process, and after 30 seconds of chaos, he perked up when the thumb got attached again. He did the same to the other one.

— The sight is gross, (Y/N). You do not want to see it… — Wonder Woman mumbled, eyes fixed on the scene, feeling a mix of grossed out and impressed.

— Gross? This is natural. Like the birth of a little naked newborn baby. You wanna know what's real gross? My roommate Blind Al’s stink! She might as well be dead at this point… Uh, oh… — Wade slowly got up. — (Y/N)... Call me an Uber. I need to check on someone.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[demigoddessqueens]

Miguel the love bug

A/N - I’m excited for this movie and of course I’m a fan for any Oscar Isaac character

First off, dry humor with him is a love language of its own!

It’s snark-offs laced with affection so there’s never any ill-will. And maybe he’ll drop in Spanish here and there just to show off for you.

Broad shoulders make for great hugs and cuddles! You feel safe.

And kisses are the same way too. Slow and sensual but they engulf you entirely. Deepening ever so slightly you can hear him murmuring against your lips.

You meeting his daughter, and seeing you two bond with each other. What he would give to have you always making her giggle

He’s just protective of you! Comes with the whole hero gig

Of course that may also include a bit of a jealous streak too. Like a hand on your hip/waist, or a lingering

All the flirty nicknames too! There’s times Miguel will sometimes slip into Spanish as he fawns over you.

Angst wise, he’s a bit mindful or insecure about the fangs as was afraid of how you would react to them. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief when you’re more curious than out off by them.

[ezdotjpg]

Hi!!! Sorry if you've been asked this before but is it possible for you to summarize the Bonus Links' personalities? Just asking because I'd like to get a general idea, apologies if this is too much of a pain to answer 😭🫶🏻

hey! luckily I already wrote up character intros a while back that I never posted to tumblr lol, so I'll go ahead and post them now! under the cut since this is mega long lol

Loft

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Skyward Sword

Age: 22

Height: 5’3”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: World’s Nicest Man Pushed To His Limit. It’s his nature to be light-hearted and easy-going, but ever since the events of Skyward Sword he’s been unable to let the implications of Demise’s curse and Zelda’s connection to Hylia go. He’s usually mild, but he’s got a lot of suppressed anger in him that comes out at inopportune times. He tends towards being optimistic, but has lately been caught in a depressive spiral. As a result of all these conflicting emotions, he hasn’t felt like himself in a while. Before everything, he could have been described as a little bit lazy, but these days a better word would be lethargic. He’s got a mischievous and thrill-seeking streak that often surprises people. He knows he’s powerful, but he’s lost some confidence in the years since his quest. He’s wracked with guilt about the way everything ended.

Slate

Pronouns: tends to use he/him, but really any

Game: Breath of the Wild (ignoring TotK for now)

Age: 21

Height: 5’0”

Communication: Mainly signs, speaks occasionally

Personality: The Reviews Are In: Friendly Guy, Vaguely Off-Putting. He knows he’s not pre-calamity Link, but he’s not exactly sure what he is instead. He’s accepted this about himself, and it grinds his gears that other people refuse to. He’s not sure what to do with all these memories inside him that aren’t his, and that he feels nothing for. He’s become more expressive, but when he’s upset his face goes entirely blank. He has a tendency to be distracted, blunt, intense, impulsive, somewhat abrasive. But he’s not unkind, and can even be outright friendly. He’d offer his help to anyone who asks, and he makes it a point to know everyone in Hyrule. He’s happiest out in nature, and doesn’t mind the solitude. He only ever lies by omission, and otherwise says exactly what he means. There’s something a little otherworldly about him.

Mask

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Ocarina of Time, Majora’s Mask

Age: 15

Height: 5’2½”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Local Teen Needs Hug So Bad, Will Bite If You Try. He’s prickly, hot-tempered, moody. He’ll pick verbal battles he probably shouldn’t. Everything is a touchy subject. But he’s developed this behavior as a coping mechanism. He’s kind by nature, and it takes effort to lash out. The person he is with Malon- gentle, more soft-spoken, with a good sense of humor and a love for harmless mischief- is a lot closer to the person he’s comfortable being. He’s a scared kid. He feels out of place, both mature and immature, of this world and not. Sometimes, he gets scrambled between Termina, the Hyrule he’s in now, the Hyrule he left behind, and the Hyrule of the war. He has a lot of resentment for both the gods and the royal family, and all he wants is to be left alone.

Wolf

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Twilight Princess

Age: 23

Height: 5’5”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Thank God I’m A Country Boy. He’s a gentle soul, probably the gentlest out of all of them. He likes to be useful, and he has made being the problem solver of Ordon Village part of his identity. He’s a bit of a mother hen and likes to take care of people. Midna was good at bringing out a little bit of attitude and snark in him. He’s got a bad case of Resting Bitch Face, but he’s not an angry person. However, he’s had a hard time adjusting to life back in Ordon. He’s usually even-tempered, but lately he’s been irritable and easier to anger. He feels isolated by his experiences, and has been avoiding most of the villagers, including his loved ones, even though it makes him lonely. Mostly he just doesn’t want to take it out on them, but it’s also about his pride. He enjoys the company of animals far more these days. He wants a quiet life, and has been avoiding Zelda's attempts to make "Hero" a political role for him to fill.

War

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Hyrule Warriors

Age: 25

Height: 5’7”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally, had Proxi speak for him at one point during the war

Personality: Link “This Is My Jaeger, I Make The Tactical Decisions” Faron. He comes across as a very charming young man, witty, helpful, pleasant in conversation, well-adjusted. In reality, he is constantly doing complicated political 4D chess in his mind at all times, even when it’s not necessary. Many years of being subject to the whims of the Royal Court and pressure to be a perfect symbol have poisoned him: he’s become calculating, manipulative, superficially polite, two-faced. He has to be the one holding all the cards, considering all the variables, fixing all of the problems, because he can’t trust anyone else. If you were to strip him of all pretense, he'd actually be a dry, resigned person, perpetually annoyed with everyone around him. He values status and reputation, and he wants more power than he has. His appearance is important to him because he knows his pretty face is an asset. He holds deep respect for the gods and the mantle of the hero. He has a strong sense of duty, but one that often leads him to justify terrible actions. The ends justify the means.

Mirror

Pronouns: he/they

Game: A Link Between Worlds, Triforce Heroes

Age: 22

Height: 5’1”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Local Link Doing Pretty Well Actually, All Things Considered. He’s just living his life, having a mostly pleasant time. He used to be quiet and reserved when he was younger, but has come out of his shell in a big way. He’s a bit vain, and fond of doing things with a dramatic flair. They like to have an audience, they like to make people laugh, they like to have your attention. Rather than being poisoned by court politics, he thrives in them. He doesn’t pretend to be charming, he just is. They can be on the arrogant side. He’s interested in fashion and art more than fighting these days, but still keeps his skills up to date. He pretends the scar on his face doesn’t bother him, but it does. He’s particularly obsessed with the legend of the hero before him.

Mage

Pronouns: he/him

Game: A Link to the Past, Link’s Awakening, Oracle of Ages, Oracle of Seasons

Age: 32

Height: 5’3”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Weird Uncle You Just Stopped Hearing From One Day. He’s a difficult guy to get a read on. He comes off as deeply serious, imposing, no-nonsense. He is actually full of nonsense. The fact that no one can tell what is and isn’t part of the bit is part of the bit. He mostly ignores his own problems by dedicating his life to solving other people’s problems. He wanders from place to place, helping people and becoming a bit of a larger than life folk legend in his own right in the process. He’s leaned into learning magic more than the sword, and has built up quite the arsenal of spells. He doesn’t speak often, and is content to let other Links lead despite being the oldest and the most experienced. He’s difficult to rile and even more difficult to get a straight answer out of.

Spirit

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Spirit Tracks

Age: 16

Height: 4’11”

Communication: Mainly signs, speaks occasionally. He has a stutter when he speaks.

Personality: Wants To Be Anywhere But Here, Preferably On A Train. He’s fully given up swordfighting, and basically just wants to go back to being a Royal Engineer like nothing happened. He has no interest in gaining any kind of attention, authority, or power from the mantle of the hero, and would actually prefer that everyone stop looking at him. He’s quiet, sweet-natured and generally non-confrontational, but he’s not afraid to stand up for himself when pushed. It’s just that it’s easier to let Zelda stand up for him instead. He’s pretty mature and in-tune with his emotions for a 16 year old. Seeing spirits everywhere, he has a lot of private thoughts about grief and death that he doesn’t share with anyone. The gears in his brain are constantly turning, and once he’s stuck on an idea, it’s all he can focus on. He often doesn’t give himself enough credit for how capable he is. Please let him tell you about trains.

Mini

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Minish Cap

Age: 14

Height: 4’3”

Communication: Only signs, mute.

Personality: He’s Just A Little Guy, Only 2 Pixels Tall. Mini doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. He’s not very expressive in the face, and it can be hard to tell what he’s thinking or feeling. Mostly, he’s a little rascal. He likes to root around in the garbage and build strange little machines from what he finds. He spends a lot of time hanging out with the Minish, moreso than humans. It’s a little bit of an escapism thing. He hasn’t really processed what it meant to become the hero so young, and is actively trying to avoid doing so. He’s very independent, and simply doesn’t compute attempts to coddle him.

Wake

Pronouns: he/him

Game: Wind Waker, Phantom hourglass

Age: 20

Height: 5’5”

Communication: Mainly speaks, signs occasionally

Personality: Everyone’s Favorite Cousin At The Family Function. He’s a fun person to be around. Friendly, energetic, laid back, good-natured, outgoing. He is always up for a good shenanigan. But he can get serious when he needs to, and often plays the important role of mediator in group dynamics. He’s the glue that holds the team together! He seems to take everything in stride, and presents himself as unbothered by the things that have happened to him. Whether that’s actually true, or he’s just compartmentalized everything too well remains to be seen. He has a strange way of being very open, and yet a closed book at the same time. He’s sentimental, and family is important to him

[xxximortalxxx]

As much as you guys hate to admit it, the Five and Lila pairing makes sense and was not at all utter bullshit as you guys are making it seem.

From the time Lila was introduced, she came in as a strong character that's wild, sexy, fun, and a bit deranged. She's a badass character! And what happens? She meets Diego in a point in her life where she was at the height of chaos and adventure. They fall in love, or in a toxic situationship filled with family drama and mother/father issues.

Now let's look at Five. His situation is overall fucked. Imagine being some kid that grew up with space/time travel powers and getting stuck in time, having to grow up pretty much before all of his siblings, and then having to come back in his KID body and still have to fix THEIR problems on top of dealing with his own mental issues that he acquired and loneliness. Reminder that he would not have had a partner due to his inconvenient life/appearance.

Lila and Diego are in this marriage with kids after trying to live a "normal" life. Lila feels stuck because she basically trauma bonded with some guy that happened to be there and was able to put up with her issues and vice versa. Diego was convenient. And from what I see, she really just wanted to make a family she didn't have. Their relationship is kinda out of obligation for their kids at this point, and neither of them are happy.

At this point, Five and Lila get stuck in time together after having previously been on opposite sides but coming together for family sake. From the beginning they matched each other's energy and even I would say they complement each other. They both have explosive personalities filled with sarcasm, snark, and a bit of humor. They both enjoy danger and a rough tussle. That's all they have known.

At this point, both Five and Lila have experienced so much in their lives, so much adventure already. They are ready to settle down, because sometimes love is the adventure you're looking for in this crazy world.

And look I get it. Badass lady is reduced to housewife trope that shouldn't exist unless within character. But can we really say this is out of character for Lila? She always does the unexpected, so her going off to be a spy is what we would expect, for her and Five.

And I also get that you guys think that Five would never betray his family like that. This isn't a perfect world and neither are these characters. If anything, we've seen Five do things for his own self interest over what the family/others want. Same for Lila.

Add in the loneliness of DECADES from Five and the trapped loneliness Lila feels within her marriage, and the fact they they go on another mission together over SEVEN years, mixed with their explosive dynamic and you have a pairing.

And explosion seems to be the theme for this season right? With Ben and Jennifer. Sometimes 2 exlosive chemicals become more stable rather than creating a blast. And maybe each other is what Five and Lila needed. They both understand each other in ways Diego could never understand Lila. Lila also understands Five's predicament like no other, having lived it first hand with him in the Seven years. It's only natural that they would come together. Lila and Diego were eventually going to divorce because they weren't compatible. Lila has always had the most chemistry with Five.

I get the cheating and in no way do I excuse it, but these characters have no idea when they will ever get back home and if. I think they would go absolutely crazy if they didn't have each other. In this time, they realized how similar they are and ended up being a better match. They found what they were looking for in each other. And you can't deny their connection like come on.

In my experience, in the real world, love is messy and not perfect. Sometimes finding love is your next adventure after you've live a life like no other. Maybe this will be good for them.

Also, they writers arent crazy or out of pocket, you guys just need to grow up.

[thevalleyisjolly]

There’s a weird recurring take in D20 fan circles that Zac doesn’t play “complex” characters and that people are just waiting for the day when he “finally” plays an asshole, which kind of baffles me.  Quite apart from the idea that only morally grey characters are complex or compelling, are you sure we’re watching the same show?

In Fantasy High, we have Gorgug, an adopted biracial teenager whose journey includes realizing his self-worth, coming to terms with his rage (literally), seeking out and navigating new relationships with others (his birth parents, the Bad Kids, Zelda), and discovering what he’s capable of. 

From The Unsleeping City we have Ricky, a second-generation Japanese-American, who has a very personal struggle across two seasons between doing the dutiful/sacrificial thing for other people’s benefit and expressing his own needs, wants, thoughts, and feelings; it’s a very particular exploration of immigrant generations and the relationship between the sacrificial model of your ancestors and the culture you grew up surrounded by which emphasizes the self.

There’s A Crown of Candy and Lapin, whose snark and one-liners are honestly less interesting than the way he engaged with and sought to understand religion and faith; the different yet similar ways in which both the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Church exerted control over their followers, and the search for spiritual meaning beyond these figures/institutions.

Then there’s Cumulous, whose every character aspect navigates a space of tension - the ultimate war guy who made himself hardened (literally) and pragmatic to get the job done but who also remains soft and caring and empathetic at the same time; wielding the power of death without glorifying or giving into it; the cousin who both is a member of the family and yet who remains at somewhat of a distance from the centre; a literal warrior-philosopher who is single-minded in battle and quietly thoughtful about the mysteries of life and death outside of it.

As for actual assholes, we have Norman Takamori in A Starstruck Odyssey, a bitter man who is the living embodiment of both the Superior Orders excuse as well as scapegoating.  On a side note, the amount of absolute vitriol and double standards which people threw at Norman during ASO for being an unapologetic asshole -and he had less than two full episodes of screen time- kind of underscores the calls for Zac to play a “real” asshole.  Zac can and will play whatever type of character he wants, but is fandom really ready for him to play an asshole if that asshole doesn’t have a secret heart of gold?

From the same season, we have Valdrinor/Skip, who starts as the “prince running from his destiny” archetype with a dash of brain slug possession, has a humorous yet oddly profound exploration of what humanity is and what it means to be human, and springboards from there into “wait, who am I really and actually, why are we doing things (brain slug possession) this way when there are other ways to engage with the universe.” 

Most recently in Neverafter, we have Pib, who apart from the fascinating meta element of being a literal character archetype, constantly straddles the line between self-absorbed self-interest and putting himself on the line to help others; his repeated demonstration of both at various points throughout the season is a subtle yet intriguing manifestation of free will and choice-making in a story all about lacking free will and agency.

So, I mean, lack of complexity where?  Does a character need to be an asshole in order to be deep or compelling?  And because I’ve heard this specific rebuttal quite a few times now, does a character need to vocalize their innermost thoughts loudly and frequently in order to prove their complexity?  If a character is “less vocal” compared to other characters, does that mean they lack interiority? 

Also, other people have brought this up before, but I am once again asking that people remember the difference between fictional characters and real life people.  Zac playing one (1) himbo on the show does not make him a himbo in real life, nor does it make him incapable of creating or playing complex characters (especially as said himbo is himself an extremely complex character), nor does it make him a lesser player than other cast members.  You don’t have to find all or any of his characters interesting or complex, but can we stop conflating character with player?

[mimi-cee-genshin]

Denial is Futile: Wanderer x f!reader - Chapter 7

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Summary:

What would you do if you were stuck with Wanderer indefinitely?

The cute and sweet guy from the bazaar was brought to your place while unconscious. But when he woke up, you were appalled by the amount of snark he had. Was he even the same person? And now you were stuck with him because he could literally die if he stopped holding your hand. You weren't sure if you could tolerate him any longer. Little did you know he was exactly the type of person you needed in your life.

Other info: Fluff, humor, sfw, enemies to lovers, some hurt/comfort and angst later, character growth, occurs after the version 3.3 Archon quest and Tighnari's story quest, female reader

Words: 2.6k

(Thanks to @paimonial-rage and @andromeda-nova-writing for beta reading!)

*****

You were in Wangshu Inn with a table set on the patio and the chatter of locals surrounded you. There were three people, bright and youthful, and yet there was unease surrounding them.

It was your fault.

Your head was heavy as if it had been immersed in water, weighing you down, powerless to lift itself off the table. A hand laid upon your forehead to check your condition and voices slurred around you as you sank deeper into the ocean. The clatter of dishes and muffled exclamations were heard from under the water as the distorted hues blurred in front of you.

Ah.

This was a dream.

You took a breath out of the water. Your legs were exhausted from treading water.

“Here,” Chongyun said. “This tea will help calm your nerves.”

It didn't work.

“You simply need to take a break,” Xingqiu said. “This book will be sure to help you relax.”

It didn't help.

“Hey,” Xiangling said. “Stop beating yourself up over something that wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong.”

A large and weighty burden was chained to your leg. You struggled to stay afloat.

“Yeah. I didn't do anything wrong,” you told yourself as you gasped for air.

Their voices blurred in a cacophony of incoherent advice. Learn a new skill, practice meditation, enjoy various forms of entertainment… all these echoed through your mind like a drum thumping a monotonous beat, perpetuating with no end, with no relief.

You tried. You really did. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe you could regain some purpose now. You could help so many people with your line of research, such as a cure that could help millions.

The water was gone.

Were you finally free?

A dark, hollow domain surrounded you, a domain void of all life. Your heartbeat began to increase and thumped harder and harder.

You ran.

You ran, yet there was none pursuing you. Your legs quickened their pace, fleeing as fast as they could. You had to escape. You had to leave now!

A petrifying shriek pierced through your flesh and bone and you covered your ears at the sound. The wails of a baby rang in your ears and sweat dripped from your brow as you ran as fast as you could, shielding yourself from its cries. The scent of smoke clung to your clothes, its smell filled your nostrils.

“It's not my fault,” you told yourself. “It's not my fault.”

Your eyes shot open as you clutched your thumping chest. Your legs lay in front of you on a sage green couch. A gentle blue and green-stained window filtered the sun's light onto your body. Your breaths were short but your eyes gradually regained their focus.

“Are you trying to determine how much pain I can tolerate?” said Wanderer.

Your left hand had gone numb due to the strength of your grip. You raised your eyes to see an indifferent man, completely unfazed by your inner turmoil. Your heartbeat had slightly decreased in intensity, but the effects of adrenaline remained in the rest of your body.

“Well? Have you finally snapped out of it?” he asked.

Your heart pounded against your chest. You tried to slow its pace as you took in small breaths of air.

“So you had a nightmare,” said Wanderer. “It's not like it was real or anything.”

Your eyes lost focus and glazed over. Yes, it wasn't real, you told yourself. It wasn't real. You laughed to yourself. “You're right, it's not real.”

Yes. Yes, it was that Archon's fault. If the war never started then all of this would've never–

Wanderer raised an eyebrow at you. You widened your eyes and quickly looked away. Yes, it wasn't your fault. It's just like what they said when you were in Liyue. You couldn't help it.

“Oh. Are you awake?” Nahida said as she entered through the door behind you. “Did you like the chazuke?”

Nahida's presence helped you slightly relax. You searched the room but didn't find any chazuke anywhere. Wanderer groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Throw it out,” he told her. Behind him on the coffee table lay a bowl with some brown-colored mush inside.

“Hold on a moment. Let me fix it for you,” she said, approaching the dish.

“You really had the audacity to use biryani for this dish?” said Wanderer.

“It was the only leftover rice I had.”

“So you soaked it in green tea?”

You peered at the bowl on the table. He was right. The biryani, with all of its meat, vegetables, and spices, was soaked in green tea. It looked gross.

“This would've worked out better if I had made it myself,” Wanderer said.

“Ah. I'm sorry,” said Nahida. “I'm not very familiar with Inazuman cuisine.”

“Hmph,” said Wanderer as he switched from holding your arm to your hand. “Come on,” he told you, tugging you up off the couch. “I've had to sit here long enough because of you.”

He led you to the next room which had a small, but comfortable kitchen. The counters were clear of any clutter and Wanderer opened a cupboard to get the materials to cook rice.

Without a word, you held onto his elbow as he worked in the kitchen. You were exhausted and felt an oncoming headache. Wanderer took the cooked rice and made some proper chazuke in a large soup bowl.

He handed you a spoon and you blinked a couple of times. “Is this for me?” you asked.

“If you don't want it, just say so,” he chided.

He set the bowl on a small table for two and sat on the chair across from you. When you remained standing, he pulled on your arm, directing you to sit. “Look, you're going to need your energy if we're both going to survive.”

Yes. Survive. He needed you to survive.

You dipped the spoon in the bowl and lifted it to your lips. Your brother used to make chazuke for you too. You rubbed your eyes and continued to eat your meal.

“Thank you,” you told Wanderer.

“Ha,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I didn't do it for your thanks.”

*****

Wanderer took you down from the Sanctuary of Surasthana and along the winding road. It had taken a while for you to regain your energy, which was concerning. Yet the only solution the two of you had was one you were adamantly against.

As the two of you passed the notice board on Treasures Street with your hand in his, he, strangely enough, paused to take a look. A poster had caught his eye, a poster for a future performance at the Zubayr Theater.

“Ha. I didn't expect them to actually do that story,” he said to himself.

“Hmm?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Which story?”

He shook his head. “It's nothing. Just some old fairy tale that was told to me when I was young. Forget about it.”

“What is it about?”

“Didn't I just tell you to forget about it?”

“But that only makes me want to know more about it,” you said.

He sighed. “Fine. I'll tell you only because I don't trust them to get all the details right. Who knows how badly they'll butcher this story.”

“C’mon,” you said. “You know how hard Nilou and the rest of them work on their performances.”

“It'll still be different,” he said. “See this?” He lifted his wrist. “The little dove on the charm bracelets Nilou gave us is actually based on the story, but it's the wrong shape. Its wings are together when they're supposed to be stretched out.”

“Alright. I get it,” you said. “So, what is it even about?”

“It's about a man…” he started off, but he began to be lost in thought.

“And…?” you nudged.

“His name was…” Wanderer clicked his tongue. “Do you want the Sumeru version or the Inazuman one?”

“The one you heard when you were young.”

“Alright. His name was Shinja. It was said that he had a cursed heart. He carried on with life like everyone else and behaved in the same way as the rest of his city.

“One day, he came across a messenger from another land. He gave him a pouch, stating it would save his life. Although Shinja was skeptical, he took it anyway. Weeks passed and he completely forgot about it. When he did open the pouch, a small, round mirror dropped into the palm of his hand.”

“Wait, this is a horror story?” you asked.

“No, it's not. Why? You scared?” he chuckled.

“No,” you rolled your eyes. “I just don't find them entertaining.”

He let out a snort. He continued the story.

“Shinja saw his reflection. His face twisted in horror but he kept examining it because he couldn't believe what he saw.”

“What did he see?”

“Could you just let me finish?” he said with a glare. And with that, you finally kept your mouth closed.

“So,” he continued, “he lost the strength to keep looking and dropped the mirror. The mirror lay on the ground emitting the brightest light he had ever seen. He clutched his chest, trying to make sense of it all.

“In his reflection, thick, black chains were wrapped around his heart, squeezing the life out of it. Then, he heard a voice from the mirror. ‘Flee from this town, for all the people are under a curse. Leave, or else these chains will end your life.’”

As Wanderer continued the story, your full attention was on him. Was he like this when Katsuragi first told him the tale, full of curiosity in his eyes? No wonder they brought him to watch the play. He had learned much of the human world through it, but he couldn't recall the rest of the story, only how he felt about it. Because there was a time when he tried to forget his ring at Tatarasuna, some parts of the story had left with those memories.

You and Wanderer made your way through the city while discussing the story. As you walked by Puspa Café, there was some light chatter, but Wanderer paid no mind to it. Yet, he did recognize a couple of faces. They were part of the group of fools who had given him a birthday cake the other year. If it weren't for their craning necks, alternating between staring and whispering, you could've ignored them too.

“Who are they?” you asked him.

“Nuisances,” he said.

They continued their whispering, saying something like how they never expected him to be interested in someone. Their so-called whispers weren't very quiet. “I would've tried harder to get his attention if I knew,” said the one.

You tugged on his hand to get his attention. “Are you okay with that?” you asked.

“With what?”

You lifted up your joined hands. “If you're so popular, we're going to be the center of Akademiya gossip. “

“Let the fools talk. I don't have the patience to deal with them,” he said.

“So you are popular, huh?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I guess you're not so bad,” you said. “As long as you're not talking.”

“Ha. You're barely tolerable yourself.”

“I was kidding,” you said. “You're actually not that–”

Your knees buckled from under you and you lost your balance, falling onto him. Despite the sudden pull, he was able to hold his ground and keep you stable as well.

“Tch, what the heck just happened?” he asked.

“I…” you stared down at your leg. “I… suddenly lost feeling in my leg.”

“Are you serious now?” he complained. “I'm not carrying you all the way to Gandharva Ville. Bringing you to Nahida's was enough.”

“Was that really your first thought?” you said. “I almost got hurt!”

“Losing your energy in the morning… losing the feeling in your leg… Ugh, you're only getting worse,” he said.

Why were humans so fragile?

“It's fine,” you told him, turning away from him.

He checked your leg. Your knee was bleeding after getting scratched on the nearby rock. He pressed on the injured area before examining at your expression. You showed no response.

“You don't feel that?” he asked.

“Feel what?”

“That doesn't hurt?”

You finally looked at your knee. The bruise next to the bloody trail on your leg was becoming more visible as well. “What? Why is it–”

“We're going to Inazuma,” he stated.

“What?” Your shoulders tensed. “But I thought… I thought you didn't want to go as well?”

“Look. It's not going to be the most pleasant experience for me either. But at this rate, I'm going to keep draining your life as if I were a delusion.”

Your face changed color, just like it did after your nightmare.

“I can't…” you muttered, the wind carrying the rest of your words.

“What?” he asked.

“I can't go back.”

He sighed. “You're getting weaker and weaker. Do you think I want to keep draining the energy out of you? And you even lost the feeling in your leg.”

“No,” you said. “I can't go.”

“Are you seriously going to keep being stubborn? Don't you see what this is doing to you?”

“No! Stop it!”

He grabbed your chin. “Look at me! You can't keep–”

“Let go of me!”

*****

Wanderer's eyelids were heavy as he strained to open them. Everything was blurry in front of him. The road was hard on his back and cold to the touch as he lay in the middle of Treasure Street. You clutched his hand as you sobbed over him, frequently lifting a hand to wipe tears from both your eyes.

“I'm sorry,” you cried, sniffing your snot back up your nose as tears soaked your cheeks. “I'm sorry. I'll go to Inazuma,” you pleaded with a tremble in your voice. “Please just wake up.”

From the corner of his eye, people had stopped to stare and there was a quiet murmur in the area. The sun was still in the same position, but from your panic, he wondered for how long he had been unconscious. It could've only been ten minutes.

“Please.” Your voice cracked. “This can't be happening. Not again. Please.”

Again? Ha. This was the first time he had been unconscious while you were holding him.

“I'll go to Inazuma, okay?” you continued, not realizing he was awake. “Please. Please just wake up. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

His finger twitched. He could move again. “What's with your excessive crying?” he said, getting his back off of the road. Just why were you so traumatised by this? “I'm fine–”

Your arms clung around him. “You're alive! Thank goodness you're alive.” Yet your tears didn't stop and only continued to flow.

Wanderer clicked his tongue after being stunned from your sudden embrace. What was he supposed to do with… this? But it was fine, he told himself. You weren't like family as the guys at Tatarasuna were. You weren't at the same level as them.

A hug didn't matter.

Yet he didn't lift his arms to comfort you. It wasn't because the idea appalled him; no, you were simply a woman who'd be here one moment and gone the next if you weren't stuck together.

You wiped your eyes once more and tried to fix the look on your face. Those tears enforced his belief all along, one that he carried for centuries.

It was better to remain alone and to keep it that way.

*****

Thanks for reading and if you take the time to leave a comment, I appreciate them so much!

If you want to be tagged for future chapters, you can use this Google form or just let me know.

[danpuff-ao3]

SNARRY FOR BEGINNERS

Are you a bit Snarry curious, but also sorta wary and unsure where to start? Good news: I have some recs for you!

Snarry is a tricky ship for some folks. All of its most problematic themes are what draw me in personally, but that's not to say there aren't some safe places to start for a newcomer!

What I've chosen are:

Nothing too long, so you can get a little taste to see how you feel. So I'm looking at 50k or under.

Nothing "problematic" or as few "problematic" themes as I can get. No underage. No power imbalance. No consent issues. (...or at least nothing egregious haha.)

Works that also maintain some integrity to Harry and Severus' individual characters, and the tension between them. If I play it too safe it won't feel properly Snarry to me! Half the fun is the tension between them, so we must keep that!

So...If you wanna check some out, keep reading!

An Awkward Customer

by AnyaElizabeth. Rated: E. Words: 10,768. Postwar. EWE. Romance. Humor.

Snape can't figure out why Potter is hanging around his shop.

Why Read? A nice rom-com based on the prompt: "Harry makes a bet with someone that he could seduce anyone if he put his mind to it, and that someone selected for him is Snape, naturally." Severus owns an apothecary so we get some nice flirting at the workplace!

a scratch for every itch

by bleedcolor (@bleedcolor.) Rated: T. Words: 11,478. Fluff & humor. Magical maladies. Friends to idiots in love. Romance.

Severus Snape is an itch that Harry just can't scratch.

Why Read? Surely fluff is a safe place to start! And as a person who isn't often drawn to fluff, this is one I love, and is a comfort read of mine. Very sweet and silly and a great place to dip your toes in!

Dumbledore's Folly

by Dementordelta. Rated: M. Words: 47,446. Romance. Courtship. Oldie but a goodie!

Snape must court Harry according to wizarding traditions.

Why Read? I've reread this fic countless times over the years and it's still such a fun read. If you like arranged marriage/courtship fics, this is the one for you!

The Interrupted Kiss

by emynn. Rated: E. Words: 24,291. Postwar. Romance. Hurt/comfort. Mystery.

Once upon a time, Severus Snape shared a kiss with Harry Potter. Then Harry had disappeared after killing the Dark Lord, leaving Severus the reluctant darling of the Wizarding world. When Dumbledore insists on throwing a ball in Severus’s honour, Severus is convinced the world has gone completely mad. But when he comes across an ashy-faced young man whose half-answers about his identity haunt his every thought, Severus realizes that a ball might be the least of his worries.

Why Read? What safer place to start than a fairytale? If we ignore that most original fairytales are pretty effed up, actually. This is a Cinderella-inspired work. Severus is the Prince (naturally), and Harry is the wandmaker (cool career, right??) who attracts many cute animals! (He does not sing to them, though; what a shame!)

This Time of Ours

by emynn. Rated: E. Words: 35,442. Time travel. Hurt/comfort. Romance & drama.

Severus Snape wasn’t supposed to die. Neither was Harry Potter.

Why Read? Emynn has plenty of great Snarry fics, which is why you're getting 2 recs! We start with some fun snarking, move onto sweet bonding, and then...second chances! Very light, enjoyable read.

On the Deficencies of Translation Spells

by LilaDiurne (@liladiurne.) Rated: E. Words: 41,130. Getting together. Magical theory. Professor Potter & Professor Snape. Beaubatons. Pining. Light angst. Minor Harry/others.

Divorced, single, and free, Harry lives a completely unapologetic life in Paris. Between casual hook-ups and an easy, comfortable job, he likes to think he is as close to happiness as he'll ever be. And when he gets offered a teaching job at the prestigious Académie Beauxbâtons, he thinks he may have found exactly what was missing. But Harry is thoroughly unprepared for what he finds there - a familiar face that's been haunting his dreams for six years.

Why read? It's very Harry-centric. It's Harry's POV, and very about Harry and his journey as he moves to a new place, in a new phase of his life, and settles in. There's an existing connection and attraction between Harry and Severus, and one that unfolds so sensually and beautifully. Harry's very much an adult and mature and has lived a lot of life when he and Severus reunite.

Rapture

by mia_ugly (@mia-ugly.) Rated: E. Words: 48,123. Time travel. Romance.

Snape sees the man, for the first time, on his twenty-fifth birthday.

Why Read? It's a classic! It is very beloved in the community for good reason. Gorgeous writing. The relationship develops so naturally, and the pure emotion will knock your socks off. Potentially the best place to start for Snarry. I'm not a big fan of time travel, but I love this fic!

Revealed, Gently

by sarkysue. Rated: T. Words: 22,243. Postwar. Romance. Humor.

Snape isn’t dead, he’s back at Hogwarts and in need of an assistant. Coincidently, Harry is hanging around Hogwarts, reluctant to move on with his life. Cue sniping and snarking, tears and laughter and, possibly, love.

Why Read? It's fun. It's cute. It's a bit silly. It makes great use of how not easy it would be for these two, and having a blast with it! There is arguably a power imbalance what with Harry being Snape's teaching assistant, but it doesn't really feel like much of one. It's only a great opportunity to force these 2 to hang out long enough to fall in love!

The Sleeping Prince

by who_la_hoop. Rated: T. Words: 42,758. Postwar. Deaging. 8th year.

It's hard to ignore your past — and impossible to do so when you can't remember your future. But a meddlesome portrait, a dragon with an ancient grudge and true love's kiss teach an unlikely Prince that a regrettable past doesn't have to mean an unhappy ending.

Why Read? While probably the most questionable on the list, it's still fairly tame. Student Harry and his developing feelings for Student Severus, who is deaged postwar. It feels very much like a feel good teenage romance, wherein the characters very much act their age, awkwardness and all! The only caveat being things change a bit at the end, but there's no underage and it is rated Teen, to be fair!

The Beating of This Fragile Heart

by Writcraft (@writcraft.) Rated: E. Words: 33,146. Hurt/comfort. Fluff & angst. Serious Injury. Romance.

After the war, the last thing Severus Snape needs is the memory of a fleeting wartime kiss and a very persistent Harry Potter thwarting his plans to live a peaceful and solitary life. It’s only when Harry’s life is endangered that Severus is finally forced to confront his feelings head on.

Why Read? If you're coming from Drarry, you might be familiar with Writ's works! They've written plenty for drarry and some rare pair works, and they are a fantastic storyteller. This fic in particular is very romantic. Full of hesitancy and insecurity, and seeing how the relationship begins and how it unfolds and changes (for the better) when Severus is forced to deal with his issues. It's quite a journey but so full of love from start to finish and it's just so lovely and full of feels and one I return to again and again.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Reading the S2 reviews (so beware spoilers ahead!). Wanted to get your take (and others’ if people have thoughts!), citing The Wrap’s review:

“Daniel might be the most radically different character from book to screen. He’s older, more pessimistic and utterly allergic to the allure of vampire life. Only now he is able to confront the deep-seated scars left behind after his night with Louis (although book fans might be disappointed to know that the show doesn’t tease out more of the romance he has with Armand in the books. Theirs is strictly an adversarial relationship in the series.)”

Other reviews confirm that S02E05/the episode about Daniel’s past is not romantic at all, rather a horror episode. Which I’m sure will be good (some describe it as the best episode), but I can’t help being a bit disappointed that they don’t seem to be doing DM - or at least not in this season at all. I think the reviews only cover episodes 1-6, but this reviewer seems so very sure… (also they seem to know the books so I’m guessing the episode won’t be too similar to the book either. Meaning it won’t end with “the chase” or will it?). So is there a real risk that no DM will play out?. The greatest hint of DM in my view was Zaman’s podcast appearance where he stated that Armand is curious about Daniel and that there is a history there. But this could just be referring to their horror-filled encounter in episode five. So I don’t know, I’m a little sad - was pretty excited for some f*cked up memory stuff (there is just something so compelling with the idea of discovering that there is a whole side of your life that you’ve lost - that this person you don’t know is someone you loved etc.). I wanted to see what it would do to Daniel and Armand respectively, and I wanted their dynamic to be as interesting as possible. Remember reading speculation that Daniel will remember more in the finale - maybe a romantic aspect but I think it was just pure speculation, no hints or comments from the cast/writers backing this up.

What do you think? Grateful to hear your thoughts! Also, I’m still psyched about this season of course, looking forward to the Armand/Louis romance, the Theatre! Hayles performance is supposedly going to be amazing, and I’m looking forward to more of Daniel’s snark obviously! It feels unreal that the season is around the corner!

It is!!! And I am also sooooo hyped, it's unreal *laughs*

Okay, so... first of all, it's always a thing of perspective with reviews. For example, there's this as well, after episode 1:

Now... that is no review, granted.

But it's perception. I... do not think that all of the "Devil's Minion" will be spelled out in the first episodes (nor do I think we will get all of it this season!). In fact, I think the horror that "he loved this monster" is part of the horror of it all, this realization. And that will very likely be in the last episodes, in whichever way.

So. With that in mind - btw, which review did confirm it's ep5? (I only saw that focused comment I think?) - I did not expect Devil's Minion to be "happy". In fact, I think it might have stalking, cages, attacks, and the beginning of the chase - and that chase does NOT start out as cute.

Daniel just gets used to it, over time. And then Armand falls in love.

Season 2 is going to be significantly darker. I bet it's also going to be a lot campier, if the comments to this hold true, with dark humor. But they're leaning fully into the horror aspects of this vampire world now, and the beginning of the Devil's Minion is exactly that - horrific.

The above review matches with what Jacob said about Louis and Daniel forming alliances... and I bet that alliance is indeed needed to drag the whole story out.

And when that whole story is out - that will lead to repercussions.

THAT in turn goes for Louis just as much as it goes for Daniel... because this second interview has just as much to do with him.

So... I would wait until you can see it with your own eyes?! :)

I mean... AMC's promotion(and pairing of the actors) speaks a very loud language? And Assad said he had chemistry read with "Daniel"... for reasons.

But it won't all be revealed in the screeners. I bet the last two episodes will pack a punch.

Maybe even literally. 😜

[emeraldspiral]

Something I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone talk about before is how Invader Zim is one of the funniest goddamn series ever created and it hardly ever relies on snark or sarcasm for its humor.

Like, people talk about the Whedonizing of modern media where everyone is constantly snarking and quipping at each other and undermining their own narratives with bathos and winks to the audience to let them know they’re self-aware about how stupid everything is so we can think they’re cool instead of “corny”.

But IZ never does that. IZ doesn’t care about making its characters look cool. They’re supposed to be losers, so it’s okay for everyone to be unabashedly, passionately self-serious about everything, no matter how stupid. GIR, the character most beloved for generating the most laughs, is never sarcastic at all. He is simply not capable of it. All the jokes surrounding GIR are based on him acting like a hyperactive puppy combined with a hyperactive toddler. Zim and Dib do not "trade barbs", they throw lame schoolyard insults back and forth and taunt each other with threats of a horrible fate. They do not make smug, snide remarks about how stupid everyone else is, they rant and rave about how disgusted they are with everyone's stupidity. Even Gaz, whose main character trait is apathy, doesn't really make sarcastic comments or "quips" often. Most of what she says is just variations on "You're bugging me, go away". And it's not for the sake of being cool. Gaz isn't self-conscious and putting down Dib's dorky interests to distance herself from him, she's just genuinely annoyed. She's not truly detatched and dispassionate. She is constantly teetering on the edge of losing it because she actually does care, a lot. It's just that what she cares about is being left alone with her video games, her pizza, and her dad.

The only character on the show I’d describe as habitually sarcastic is Ms. Bitters, and her apathy isn’t meant to be “cool” either. She’s just punching down at children to demoralize them because she’s a miserable old bitch.

Ironically, IZ came out with FOP, and 80% of Butch Harman's sense of humor is making bad, unfunny puns and then having characters groan and sigh and roll their eyes at how bad the puns were as if that makes it any funnier.

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers : 1x08 After the Rain (Part 1)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

Last episode of Season 1 - let's do this!

Family Time

These big family scenes are some of my favorite - mostly because there's usually so much going on during them, and everyone gets a beat. Anthony's sulking (and throwing groundwork for Season 2); Gregory and Hyacinth are bantering, Benedict and Eloise are hyping up the Lady Whistledown plot, and Colin's in the background pouring over his maps, because after all the drama he is peacing outta there.

Violet enters exclaiming that Francesca will be returning (because it's the finale and we should try to have all 8 in the same room again). Colin snarks that she can update them on how great not being in London is. Glad to see Colin's continuing to add humor back in his life, but oh man is he ready to be anywhere but there.

Also, Violet recounts all the drama of the season from Daphne and Simon to Anthony and Siena, though she fascinatingly does not mention Marina.

Penelope and Marina

Meanwhile, back at the Featherington Estate, Penelope goes to check in on Marina. She is fine after her bout with the tea -- but now thinks she's magically cured herself of pregnancy. Ah, the medical information of the 19th century. Poor girl.

Penelope isn't so sure, but she really knows nothing about medicine anyway, so she kind of just lets it go.

Penelope then remarks that Marina caused 'quite a flutter'. And it's interesting - despite some of the friction that was caused between the two of them, I still believe that Penelope still likes Marina, in general, and while it's clear Marina is anxious to return home, I do think Penelope will miss her being around - she did add a little spice to their day.

I have to wonder, too, if Penelope does feels slight guilt for causing such a tizzy herself? But then, I don't think she does. I think she believes she did the right thing -- but still feels awkward about it with Marina.

Marina then apologies for the whole ordeal. And I do think she's sincere here. She did what she thought was best and in her own self interests to protect herself and an unborn child. And now that she thinks it's all over, she can go back to being her again.

Marina goes on to say that Penelope was right - that Colin is a good man with a good heart, and I mean -- the pride in Pen's eyes. She's almost bashful about it, but she's like - I know how good he is. I've seen it for years. Thank you for acknowledging that. It's a fascinating little look that isn't about her at all - but about someone else seeing what she does in him.

Marina then goes on to somewhat try to mend a cruelty. She doesn't have to say the next part, she could have left it at -- Colin is a good dude. But she makes it a point to acknowledge that not only is Penelope good to him, but that some day Colin will notice her. And, like, this is incredibly kind. Marina went out of her way to destroy all of Pen's hope for her own personal gain. And, maybe as an apology, or maybe as something she genuinely senses, she's restoring some of Pen's hope.

And, of course, this works as narrative foreshadowing. The show is taking a moment to say -- hey, the real love story is between these two idiots who are bumbling along on their road to each other. We're not there yet - but we're getting there. And I love that.

The scene ends with the arrival of Sir Phillip Crane, and this is where the narrative shifts. The story of Colin and Marina is done, and Marina is going to continue on with her own story into a new (and final) part. One in which Penelope really doesn't have anything to do - now that the Polin portion of the storyline is done (in relation to Marina).

Sir Phillip Crane

I really like how Penelope is kind of taking a caring and protective stance here. She and Marina are on the same side again, and while Penelope really doesn't have anything to do in this scene - she's poised as Marina's ally. She's holding Marina's hand, and has her back, and wants to make sure she's okay -- while also shooting Crane some very watchful looks.

Also, somewhat of an aside, since it isn't directly related to Penelope, we learn that George died on the battlefield, and Marina leaves -- and we get a genuinely emotional moment for Marina. And I think it helps frame her entire story, if you go back and watch it again. Marina encased her own feelings, her own heartache, her own heart. She did do everything she did out of self preservation, because she felt she was truly and utterly alone. And upon learning that George hadn't forsaken her -- she just breaks down and is able to grieve and it's a really powerful moment. I don't agree with Marina's choices, and I think it would have been a terrible thing if she and Colin had gotten married -- but I also understand her and her choices and I think she's a rather complicated character, too.

I do appreciate that this show does have more depth to it than just pretty people having sex on the stairs. There's a lot of emotional complexity in the Marina story line.

[This scene takes place six-ish minutes later, but I thought I'd lump it all together.]

Penelope is in the background here, so it gives me a minute to ponder about something... Phillip Crane is the male protagonist of book 5. Which is Eloise's book. And, I just wonder if this is really the show paying the long game here with Eloise's story? Or if they decided to just do something different? I have no idea! Marina dies from depression and attempts on her own life in the book -- and I would hate to see this character, whom we've grown to like meet that fate. Not to mention, show Eloise is sooo different than her book counterpart, it's hard to imagine her falling in love with this guy. It's all so weird. I really don't know what they're going to do with it.

Penelope has a couple of interesting reactions in this scene, however. The first being when Marina says that she cannot marry Crane because she does not love him. And Penelope is kind of nodding along in agreement here. Because she isn't there for her mother's assertion that you should just marry for the status and security of it. She does believe in love, and believes one should marry for that reason.

The other look, it's dark, and I can't quite get a read on it. But it's when Marina is telling Portia off -- stating that she's done with lies and deception and thinking that now that she's without a child she can be true to herself again. And I wonder if Penelope is somewhat envious of her gumption. How much would she like to stand up to her own mother but can't? But also - how much she feels she can't be her true self and has to use Lady Whistledown to express it? Idk what the intention of the look is supposed to be, but I do think it lends credence to the fact that Penelope is a deeply complex character, too, one whose motivations are not black or white, either.

And... that's where I'm stopping for now. :)

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

Five-Finger Discount (Dean/Reader)

Title: Five-Finger Discount

Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Dean x Female Reader

Summary: It's supposed to be a simple case. A little undercover. A little burglary. A little spell. Dash of salt and burn. No muss, no fuss. So, why the hell are you getting these uncontrollable thoughts about Dean's... hands?

Word Count: 10,300

Tags: Hand & Finger Kink, Dean Winchester is a Scoundrel, Dean gets a Manicure, Fluff and Humor, Shameless Smut of the Finger Variety, Dean Winchester Talks Dirty

Notes: Because Jensen just can’t keep his hands to himself. See notes on AO3 for the offender/crime in question.

A persistent tapping on your bedroom door awakens you. It could be late evening or early morning in the windowless bunker.

Before you can check your phone for the actual time, Dean’s voice calls your name from the other side of the door.

You groan. Whatever time it is, it’s not ‘wakey wakey eggs and bakey’ time. “What?”

“Got word from Sam. He’s figured out what’s been killing the inmates in NSP.”

You sit up and feel for the lamp switch. After a turn and snick , you mumble, “Let there be light.” Your voice raises in answer to Dean. “That’s great.”

“Well, not that great.” The conversation is still happening through the closed door. “Sam figures it’s a ghost of a prisoner that died behind bars in 1870.”

“Why not great? Did you want more of a challenge? Ghosts are a milk run.”

You can hear the dramatic sigh, picture the tilt back and forth of his head, and the way his mouth mimics either you or Sam when the sarcasm leans on the excessive. Which is kind of ironic coming from the King of Snark. “Can I come in? You decent?”

“Yes.”

It’s definitely the middle of the night when you get a look at him. Dean’s hair is mussed. There are cheek and chin creases from scuba pillow diving when he sleeps on his stomach. “You got something formal to wear?”

“Huh?”

“A gown, dress, something promish or wedding worthy?”

“Promish?” That question reply to his question earns you a broad stance with hands on hips like a superhero as Dean stares you down. You twirl both hands around to remind him of the non-existent storage space in the bunker. Which should not be a thing in such a huge fortress where men dressed in three piece suits on the daily. “Sure. I have a whole rack of them hanging in my walk-in closet.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, smart ass. Well, we’re gonna have to go do this thing in less than twenty-four hours that needs you in a dress and me in a tux.”

You suck in your lips and try not to laugh at how pissed Dean appears at the thought.

“It’s a charity fundraiser in Lincoln,” he continues. “We have to act like a couple of out-of-state spenders with deep pockets to get our hands on the Hand of Glory that belonged to this ghost.”

“What about Sam? I bet he’d look much better in a dress than I would.”

Dean shrugs. “He’s got the hair for it. But we can’t risk somebody making him.”

Of course. The one time Sam goes investigating on his own. He posed as an FBI agent and poked around too many people. 

You and Dean are going to have to go shopping. The all-out kind. Max out a stolen credit card at the mall kind.

Dean is gonna be miserable. You can’t wait. Grumpy Dean, for some reason, is very entertaining.

“How about you in the dress and me in the tux?” you offer.

“I don’t have the legs for it.” Dean shakes his head. “Get a few more hours of sleep. Gonna be a busy day.”

You’ve been around Sam and Dean for a long time. Long enough to have gotten a little numb and even blase regarding certain things.

The dangers of a hunt. The stench of death. The amount of blood a beheaded vamp body can ooze.

As you tick the tasks off for the heist with a trip to a dress shop earlier and currently helping Dean pick out a tux, another thing you’ve become indifferent to smacks you right in the goddamn face.

The hotness of the Winchester brothers.

You were talking with the owner of the suit store when Dean parted the curtains of the fitting booth he’d been in for five minutes.

And there it was, dressed to the nines, cutting a fine figure in a black tuxedo. 

The plain as day fact of how unfucking-believably gorgeous Dean Winchester is.

Stephen, well-dressed and highly animated, claps hands in front of his face. “Oh. Wow, that is, it’s like you stepped right off the cover of GQ magazine,” he gushes at Dean. “Turn around, turn around.”

Dean blushes, spins on his heels, and averts your and Stephen’s gaze. You’re glad because you can feel the warmth racing over your own cheeks.

“Sir, that is screaming perfection. I don’t even think it needs to be taken in. It’s like a second skin.” You’d think Stephen was buttering him up for a sale if he was overexaggerating. But, he wasn’t.

“Well, good, cause it’s not like we’ve got time for a tailor,” Dean huffs. Then, you hear, “You’re awfully quiet. What do you think?”

“I-yeah-it’ll do.”

After Dean swipes the key card, he steps aside and lets you pass the threshold first.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

The suite is swanky. No motels for you on this trip. You’ve got to keep up appearances, after all.

Windows that meet the ceiling give you a sweet view of downtown Lincoln. It’s not the New York skyline, but everything looks impressive from a higher vantage.

Dean pushes the squeaky luggage cart. The door clicks closed solidly behind him. “Alright. We got a few hours to get ourselves presentable. Then we head on over to the Sheldon Museum of Art.” He hangs the garment bags containing his tux and your dress in the closet. The duffle bags each get a chuck onto the king-size bed.

You nod at the reminder. Sam will be at the fundraiser as well. Between the ruse of you and Dean as the wealthy Mitchums from Kansas and Sam’s Agent Dion, you’re confident the case will be resolved before another not-so-innocent victim dies. “Too bad we can’t really enjoy a stay at a place like this.”

“Eh, overpriced. I can’t wait to get home to the bunker. It’s a lot nicer.” He rolls the cart back toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few.”

He’s gone before you can quibble with Dean over your and his idea of luxury. But yours does have windows, excessive amounts of pillows, and room service.

Dean returns to find you’ve commandeered the entire vanity counter with makeup. He chuckles. “Never seen you put any of this crap on before. Do you even know how?”

“Asshole.” You thwack his tummy, but clenched stomach muscles anticipated the retaliation. “I’ll wear makeup for this case out of necessity. I don’t believe in going into debt to keep up with the latest beauty trend. This stuff costs a fortune.”

Dean picks up a packet of press-on nails and looks at the price tag. “Well, hopefully, it’s all worth it.”

As Dean inspects your haul, you notice the dirt under his own nails. “Your hands,” you state.

“Huh?” Dean’s brow furrows. He puts down the box and stares at his fingers.

“Those aren’t the hands of a millionaire.”

He smiles. “I’ve got a great rags to riches story I can use. You see, one day I was shootin’ at some food, and up for the ground came a bubblin’...”

“Ooor, you can look the part.” You cut off his recounting of how the Beverly Hillbillies came to be and sweep a hand in his direction. “Hurry up and shower. I’ll do your nails.”

His eyes bug out. “Do my nails?”

“Relax. Just gonna tidy them up. No polish. Although there’s nothing wrong with a little color on a guy’s nails. But maybe not for this event. We don’t need you to stand out too much.” You think about how he looked in that tux and realize how much he will stand out already at least in your mind. He’s still blinking at you, processing what’s about to happen. “Well, hurry up, Jeb. That oil ain’t gonna find itself.”

You gulp at the sight of a freshly scrubbed, washed, towel-dried Dean. It shouldn’t be affecting you like this. You’ve seen him just out of a shower with his white t-shirt and sweatpants when you’ve been hunting on the road.

Maybe it’s the change of scenery. No motel. No mildew smells. No obnoxiously loud wallpaper to mask the soot and stains. No revving engines or wheels peeling right outside the door. None of the things that usually overwhelm and distract your senses.

His entire face is scrunched up in confused awe. Tools are neatly lined atop a towel on the small island by the kitchenette. Not the usual gun-cleaning ones, though. You clear your throat and pat the breakfast stool beside your seated frame.

“Is this gonna hurt?” he asks.

“Just a little detailing is all.”

He sits and eyes you warily.

A gimme gesture requests his left hand. He provides it, resting his fingers over the bridge of support yours creates. You try not to flinch in surprise at the warmth and weight. It’s not like you’ve never touched him before. But, you’ve never had the opportunity for contact to linger.

You lean down and in, lifting his fingers in inspection and deciding your plan of attack. Damn. They’re, well, you wonder how you haven’t noticed how big they are. His entire hand dwarfs yours in comparison. Dean’s a big dude. He is not as tall as Sam, but considering they’re both over six feet, you shouldn’t be surprised that his digits are substantial. You picture Sam’s hands in your mind’s eye in the usual situations. Tapping away on a keyboard. Flipping through their dad’s journal pages or some gigantic volume of lore in the bunker. Those fingers are long, but their slender and taut, proportionate to Sam’s body type and size. Jolly Green Giant size.

Dean’s? Well, it’s not that they don’t match Dean. They’re beefy, thick, and solid. All the things Dean is. But they’re more like a jumbo sausage sandwich than a hot dog that’s a little too big for the bun. Even the width of his palm seems way above average.

“What’s wrong?” Dean’s question calls out and you wonder how long you’ve been staring at his freaking hands.

“Nothing,” you mumble.

You get to work, using a nail brush that’s been soaking in a bowl of warm, sudsy water. A sturdy grip wraps around two of Dean’s fingers - it’s all you can comfortably manage - and the bristles scrub back and forth in quick passes.

Dean chortles. His fingers pull back slightly. The look on his face is one of surprise. You grin and ask, “Did that tickle?”

He snorts. “What? No. I’m not ticklish.”

“Mm-hmm.” You tug his fingers toward the brush. “Hold still then.” You continue the process. Dip the brush in the water bowl. Play Dean’s fingers like a washboard. And you delight in how his jaw clenches and body squirms. He does an adorable shimmy shake that starts at the shoulders and ends with an ass cha-cha. But you only let the torture go on for a minute or two. “Okay. Give them another wash. Then we’ll clip ‘em, file and buff, and these nails will scream private prep school and ivy league polo.”

He rises. “As long as there’s no more brushing.” He punctuates how serious he is about that with one of those fingers right at your mouth.

You swallow the urge to bite that finger.

For someone who was uncertain about the thought of a manicure earlier, Dean is back in a hurry to continue the process. You exaggeratedly shake the nail brush out of the soapy water bowl and softball it into the stainless steel sink a yard away. It clangs about like a noon bell. You raise both hands, “I’m unarmed.”

He snickers, “Not so sure.” He skirts his gaze over the remaining items. “Sharp and stabby things.”

“You have used clippers before. You’re not an actual Cro-Magnon that drags knuckles on the ground and runs nails along some flint.” You grab one stool and carry it to the other side of the island, settling into position for the next step. “Sit and stop acting like a baby.”

“Damn,” he murmurs, following orders and taking his seat from before.

“Hands,” you request.

He harrumphs and splays his fingers atop the terry towel, like a cat stretching and digging in with their claws. His hands are creamy colored and speckled pink from the washing and scrubbing. Ten digits tap along the cloth in wait. And you stare, longer than you should.

What in the holy hell is going on? They’re fingers for chrissakes. The same fingers you’ve seen on Dean all the time, day after day in the bunker or in the car or on a hunt. It’s not like he got a hand transplant or something.

“Come on, Madge.” Dean snaps two of those fingers together. “This is where you’re supposed to tell me I was soaking in it.”

“Huh?”

He rolls his eyes. “Softens hands while you do the dishes?” He adds to the dramatics and unhinges his jaw. “Come on, we’re the same age. You gotta remember that commercial? Palmolive?”

“Oh, right.” You feign recollection, inhale to steady yourself and grab his left hand. It’s down to business time. “I’ve only lost five of my last six clients. Nothing to worry about.”

“Quite the comedian,” he razzes back.

“I am. Apparently you could learn a thing or two from me. The first? A punchline isn’t funny if you have to explain it.”

“Yeah, well…” He begins.

“Maybe come at me with ‘your face is a punchline’?” you suggest.

His lids blink in confusion. “It’s not, though.”

For some reason that shuts you both up.

You spend the next minutes manipulating each of Dean’s fingers, one by one in your palm as you clip. Tick, tick, tick. You give the nails a nice straight edge and round out the sides. His nails are stumpy, boxy and twice the width of yours. His skin is calloused, toughened in the spots you expect. From the thousands of hours he’s gripped Baby’s steering wheel, handled a shotgun, cranked a wrench, slid into the trigger of his Colt. But they are soft in other spots. The patterns of lines criss crossing and connecting like a terrain map enthrall you.

He’s quiet. Watching you work. You’ve forgotten to be mouthy for this bit. It’s hard to focus on anything but this and his breathing. You’ve forgotten the basic steps of inhaling and exhaling.

It’s when you’ve moved on to filing that Dean remembers how to word. “You’re good at this.”

“I should be,” you croak out then clear your throat. “I did my older sister’s nails all the time growing up.”

“Hm, I guess Sammy didn’t get the little brother memo about doing my nails.”

I grin up at him. “Maybe you should have had him watch that Palmolive commercial.”

His laugh is soft. His eyes gleam with that hint of mischief he dons when there is no imminent threat. When life is as close to normal as possible. You wonder what it would be like to take those hands and place them around your waist. Guide him to hold you steady, secure.

He opens his mouth, stops to lick his top lip.

It’s taking everything in your power to not catapult over the island and slam your lips against his.

He finally speaks. “We should get ready.”

And your daydreaming dissipates just like that.   

Two hours later, you and Sam wait outside the St. Charbel Chapel in Calvary Catholic Cemetery. It’s the closest church and holy ground from the museum Sam had found in his research.

A fire truck zooms down a nearby street, siren wailing.

You wait for Dean. 

Things had not gone according to plan.

At the fundraiser, Sam got cornered near the crudités by a Lancaster County Sheriff’s Office deputy. From what you overheard, Sam’s cover had been blown. He was in imminent danger of being arrested by Deputy Dickens for impersonating a federal agent. Dean was off in one of the acquisition storage rooms searching for the Hand of Glory.

You all were SOL.

You did what any hunter interested in self-preservation would do. Walked over to the nearest fire alarm and inconspicuously pulled the lever. Alarms went off. In the chaos of disgruntled partygoers filing out of the building, Sam dropped the deputy to the ground with a combo shoulder check and leg sweep. You were down on the floor in a flash, asking the lawman if he was alright. Before he could reply, you held a handkerchief doused with your travel-size bottle of chloroform to his mouth and nose. A clutch could only hold so much—such an inconvenience.

Sam pushed the passed-out deputy under the appetizer station’s floor-length tablecloth. You both did a hurried power walk past the crowd gathered in front of the museum. Sam tried his best to slow down his stride enough for you to keep up wearing heels. At least you only had four blocks to cover to end up at the cemetery, the agreed-upon meetup location.

You pace in wait. “He’ll be here,” Sam states with conviction.

You never want to leave a man behind. Especially not Dean.

Sure enough, Dean’s shadowed figure jogs up the cemetery walk in the dark minutes later. You recognize his panting first.

Sam shines a light in Dean’s direction. He’s a bit disheveled from whatever he had to do to skip out of the museum undetected. The hair, styled in a neat part earlier, is now askew.

“Guessing I have you two to thank for having to hop out a bathroom window and into thorny rose bushes.”

You shrug. “Sam was about to get handcuffed.”

Dean ponders for a moment. “Context is important to determine whether that’s good or bad for Sam.”

“Dean, come on, did you get it?” Sam asks with an impatient wave of his hand.

Dean pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and flaps it open with a wrist snap. He pulls out a gnarled, desiccated object under his jacket's lapel. “I did get it, using my five-finger discount.”

The burning ritual had at least gone smoother than the rest of the evening. Sam dropped the two of you around the back of the hotel in his rental car. You both had left Baby in the connected garage and taken a cab to the museum. 

“See you all at the bunker.” He smiles, energized, and pumped from a successful hunt. He’s glowing and adorable. You realize you have gotta dial back the internal ogling of your hunting partners and quick or it’s gonna get all kinds of uncomfortable in your head.

“See ya, Sammy.” Dean grins and salutes.

“Don’t take too long to get out of town.” Sam advises, flicks his bangs out of his eye line with a shampoo commercial head whip, then peels off with a wave.

The key card lets you sneak in through the poolside.

The ride up the elevator starts quiet. You spend the time zoning out and staring at the tapered triangle of shoulder and back that makes up Dean’s tuxedo jacket.

So, dialing back the ogling is going great.

“You looked really good tonight,” Dean murmurs. You catch his gaze in the door’s reflective surface. “I mean,” he clears his throat, “you still look really good. I never got the chance to tell ya earlier.”

The attention straightens your posture. You adjust the spaghetti strap of your little black dress. “Thanks.” It’s all you can think of to respond. You tear your focus away from the eye crinkles, now the newest sexy thing you’ve failed to notice. It’s safer to inspect the corners of the floor for dust. The small enclosed space heats due to Dean Winchester occupying it.

The elevator dings and you hold in a sigh of relief. You exit first, then halt so he leads. You trail behind him in silence to the room. He opens the door. Your steps scoot past his body.

“Got time to change?” Hopeful, you’re already rifling through your duffel for your jeans and flannel.

“Sam’s right. We should probably bolt.”

You groan.

“Let’s put some miles between us and Lincoln.” It’s not really a suggestion.

“Fine.” You give in, knowing he’s right.

You aren’t tired on the drive back. The sense of accomplishment after a successful case turns most hunters into live wires, you included. 

You and Dean have been chatting about the hunt. The lackluster food at the fundraiser. Sam’s impressive Latin skills. An apparent millionaire whose breath stunk like a month old convenience store burrito. And you knew what one of those smelled like from unfortunate firsthand experience. The conversation switches to some repairs that need to be done around the bunker. A casserole recipe on Pinterest you want to try. Who’s going to get the treat of washing all the MOL classic cars in the garage. The topics pogo all over the place. You love these moments with the brothers. 

You’re an hour and some change out from Lincoln, halfway to Lebanon, when Dean has an idea.

His finger wags at a mile marker. “There’s a decent bar in Bruning. Wanna grab a drink to celebrate?”

You stare at his unbuttoned tux jacket, then your dress. “Like this?”

“Sure. Why not?” It’s not really a question as he takes the exit.

You drew the line at wearing heels in the bar. Dean grabbed your worn cowboy boots from Baby’s trunk. He leaned against the car beside your open passenger door. You tugged on boots, leaned forward, giving any passersby a free show down the front of your dress. Arms folded, Dean scowled and puffed out his chest to any male who dared to glance in your direction.

A minute later you both entered the bar and did the usual routine without speaking. Head to respective bathrooms. Clean up and make yourselves respectable looking. But as you blotted your foundation and appreciated the staying power of your makeup in the mirror - okay, maybe that setting spray was worth the price - you considered who you were making yourself respectable for?

It’s not like either one of you were expecting to get lucky tonight. The bunker was less than two hours away. No one was gonna pick up a local and take them back to their motel room.

You applied a fresh coat of red berry lipstick.

So, that left only you and Dean freshening up for… each other?

You scoffed at the ridiculous idea, ran fingers through your hair.

A drink. One drink. To celebrate a job well done.

“That’s all it is,” you mumble.

You’ve played darts for an hour. Dean’s on his third whiskey. You’ve downed four fruity rum concoctions, mainly because you loved hearing Dean order the drink. 

Entertainment was the least he could do after beating you for the sixth time.

The waitress stops at your high top and grabs the empty plates and glasses. “What else can I get you two?”

Dean clutches a dart, deep in focus, squinting at the target board. “You wanna nother Bahama Mama?”

You suppress a giggle and smile at the waitress. “Just more water. Thanks.”

“We should probably load up on the grease before we head home.” Dean peers at the waitress over a shoulder. “Maybe some fries, darlin’, to go along with one last shot of whiskey?”

“Sure thing, sugar.” She smiles, then waits for Dean to turn around before eyeing his backside in approval. With a grin, she taps your bare forearm. “Lucky you,” she whispers.

You are lucky. But not for the reason the waitress thinks. Being around Sam and Dean means safety and security. The eye candy is merely a bonus. One you are debating if you should indulge in more often or continue to restrict your caloric intake.

After all, there’s nothing wrong with appreciating a work of art.

Dean had flung his necktie in Baby’s backseat and unbuttoned his collar during the drive. The casual way he now wore the tux was even more attractive. “Probably a good idea if you lay off the alcohol. It’s definitely affecting your game tonight.” He grins.

You lean your heavy weighted head against a palm for support. “Yeah, must b’it,” you slur, more than you like. Your gaze zones in on his fingers gripping the dart. Those damn fingers have been a distraction all night. He has to be unaware he’s sabotaging any ability to focus. Dean is an outright flirt with his targets. You’ve seen him lay on the charm thick and sticky the same way he slaps peanut butter and jelly on white bread. Subtlety has never been his thing.

Speaking of targets. The dart launches out of his hand and lands dead center. “That’s what I’m talkin’ bout.” Dean performs the ka-ching motion for what feels like the hundredth time that night. Normally, it’s annoying, but you battle your lids open to stare at his clenched fist in awe. Again. He slides onto the bar stool and inspects you with a concerned smile. “You usually drink me under the table. Sure you’re okay?”

“Fine.” You hum. 

The waitress whizzes by and deposits Dean’s shot and a basket of fries. Dean’s voice floats in the air expressing his thanks to, you think he says, Linda. Then a pointed order hits you right in the face. “Hey, eat something. I ain’t carrying you to the car like some swoony duchess on those shows you binge.”

“They’ve got carriages, not cars.” You blink over and over and straighten up. A handful of fries fill your mouth. Your brain hasn’t caught up in time to tell you to shut up and chew. “Yud make a ghood ake.”

“What?” Dean smiles at you like he’s happened across his favorite Scooby-Doo episode while channel surfing.

You gulp down the gluey mashed goodness. “You’d make a good rake.”

“What’s that? Some kind of man servant? I was a handmaiden once.” He indulges in some of the fries before you eat them all. Those fingers push them past his lips.

“No. A rake’s-” You huff at the gall when he attentively licks the grease off his thumb. His tongue is quite, um, “Nimble.”

He frowns, obviously confused. “A rake’s nimble?”

You shake out the cobwebs in your brain, tripping you up with a collision of thoughts. “A rake’s a ladies’ man,” you mutter.

His spine stiffens, shoulders pop back in pride. “I do try to please the ladies every chance I get.”

“We are all well aware.” More fries thankfully save you from saying anything that may humiliate.

“Guess those aren’t your favorite characters. You probably like the stuffy types that are all serious, with their noses up in the air or stuck in a book.”

You shrug. “Nah, I go for the rogues.”

One of Dean’s brows quirk up. “The dangerous type?” One side of his mouth lifts as well.

“Yeah, a scoundrel. You know, the one you can’t quite figure out. They’ve got this bad reputation or some sordid past. But, they go after what they want. Take what they want.” You hum again and close your eyes. You can still see Dean’s grin in your mind’s eye.

“Too bad I don’t fit the bill.”

You freeze. Eyes still closed. He didn’t just… did he?

“I mean. It’d be all kinds of wrong. Me going for something I wanted, damn the consequences.”

You inhale and grip the curve of the table top. You open your eyes to find him sipping at his whiskey. “Don’t fuck with me,” you whisper.

He gives you a toe curling smile now. The glass clinks onto the table. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m not your type.”

“I-wh-” It’s too late. You’ve never been on the receiving end of what is most definitely Dean Winchester flirting. “What makes you think that?”

He leans in. His breath meets your inhale and you take in all the spice and warmth. “I wouldn’t do a thing to mess this up. Not unless, you know, I knew.”

You nod, dumbstruck. “Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, yeah.” A whoosh of fatigue makes your head spin.

Dean smiles. “We live together, hunt together. Packed like sardines together twenty-four seven sometimes. Wouldn’t want to mess any of that up. Unless I knew, you know?”

“Knew what?” Your chin drops to your chest despite your best efforts. The weight of your body gets ready to do a face plant on the table top. You squish your lids shut tight and groan in horror at the inevitable.

But, Dean is there to save you. Again. His fingers swoop in to cradle your jaw and lift up your head. The embarrassment and alcohol finally overtake you. As you fade, you hear, “Maybe I’ll tell you when you’ll remember the answer.”

You woke up in your bed, back at the bunker. Again, with no idea if it was morning or night. No idea how much time had passed since…

You spring upright to sit. And, yeah, that was a mistake. Your head pounds. Your mouth is dry and tacky. Your stomach feels like it got turned upside down. Not that much time has passed since…

You groan and lay back down, slow and gentle. You piece the last snippets of memory together.

You stare up at the ceiling, grateful for the darkness. You want it to suck you up whole.

Did you pass out in the middle of Dean hitting on you? Did Dean end up swooping you up and putting you in the Impala? Driving you home passed out in the back seat - or God forbid the front passenger seat with you lolling about, mouth probably open and drooling - then carrying you throughout the bunker to your bedroom? Did he…?

You pat your chest and feel the spaghetti straps and silky fabric of your little black dress. You sigh. He had taken pity on you and only stripped you of your cowboy boots.

There’s a soft tap on your bedroom door.

“Oh no.” You pull the blanket over your head, mortified. You don’t think you can face him.

But it’s not Dean that says your name. It’s Sam.

“You alright? I heard you… uh… moaning.”

“Yeah,” you squeak. “Hungover.”

You think you hear Sam snicker. “Dean said you outpaced him by a mile. In darts and drinks.”

That makes you pause to recall. No, you definitely don’t think any of that’s accurate.

“He made some breakfast before he went out, if you’re hungry.”

Great, he can’t bear to face you, either. “Thanks, Sam.”

“If you’re up for it later, I could use some assistance researching.”

You take a measured breath to quell the nausea. “I’ll let you know.”

You’d chewed some aspirin and drank glass after glass of water from the sink in your room and somehow passed out for a few more hours.

You drag yourself out of bed around noon and shower in an effort to resemble something close to human. The stomach growls lead you to the bunker kitchen. At first, you smile at the plate of pancakes Dean covered with a clean kitchen towel for you. A frown follows at the odd shape of them. They aren’t his usual silver dollar pancakes stacked six high.

You tilt your head, attempting to figure out what Buttermilk Banksy was trying to create. The two pancakes, side by side on a large plate, obviously started out as circles. But then, four long tendrils were added along the top of each and a little offshoot one on the side. A turkey? Why the hell would Dean make turkeys? It wasn’t anywhere near Thanksgiving time.

“‘Bout time, sleepy head.” Dean’s voice wafts in from the doorway. He strolls in without a care in the world. There’s no hesitancy to lock eyes with you. Which is good. That has to mean you didn’t make more of a fool of yourself than you remember. He tugs on the fridge door. “Do you want something else or those pancakes enough?” He’s asking the interior of the refrigerator more than you, his head circling the shelves. “Was gonna pile on the grease but thought you might need to take it easy after last night.”

“No, this is great. Thank you.” You keep your voice low, hoping he’ll get the hint and not make too much noise.

He seems to, clicking the door shut softly after grabbing a cold slice of pizza. “Oh, I thought we’d do a movie night in the Dean cave. I bought angus ground beef for burgers. I’ll make some potato wedges. Grabbed your favorite microwave popcorn, movie theater butter.”

The menu, miraculously, doesn’t make your stomach lurch into panicked somersaults. “None of that sounds Sam approved.”

“He’s got that author signing book store thing in Stockton tonight.”

Oh, right. You’d forgotten for a moment how excited Sam was to listen to some guy read a chapter from his book on the evils of the Federalist Society.

“Think you’ll be up for it?” Dean asks, brows raised hopeful.

You smile. “I think I will.”

“Good.” He captures a third of the pizza slice in one bite. After four chews and a swallow he finishes with, “I’ll go easy on you.” The grin he flashes catches you off guard. It’s that one that if Sam saw it, he’d suspect you and Dean had a secret.

Problem was, you didn’t know what the secret was.

“We got weapons to clean in an hour. No matter what Sam says about research.” Dean taps the door sill on the way out of the kitchen. “Meet you in the library. Don’t be late.” He disappears.

You stare down at your breakfast, which is now technically lunch, and a queasy feeling erupts. But not from the hangover or the thought of eating.

The pancakes Dean made. You think you know what the shapes are now.

A pair of hands.

Time in the library with Sam and Dean is pure torture. 

You’re sat equidistant between the two of them, in the middle of one of the long massive wooden tables. Sam is on one end, flipping through page after page of a volume on corporal punishment. He’s trying to work out an easy cheat sheet - a work flow chart - that you all can use in the future. If you can identify what crime someone was charged with committing way back when, you’d have a better idea of the dismembered mummified appendage to track.

Dean occupies the other head of the table. A worn cloth laid out in front of him, all manner of weapons lined in a neat row atop it, awaiting his hands.

His hands. God, you hope the pancakes were merely a cheeky, inside joke on Dean’s part. Maybe it was a reminder about your insistence on the manicure. Or the friggin’ Palmolive commercial that, thanks Dean, you can’t get out of your head either. Because now all you can think about is Dean’s massive fingers dipped in a teeny tiny glass bowl filled with sudsy dish detergent. 

Between Sam’s page turns and Dean’s clink of weapons your brain can’t settle or calm down. You’re also trying to appease both hunters. You’re reading through a book on your right and sharpening a machete on your left. 

“That jugglin’ act might leave you with more than a paper cut if you aren’t careful,” Dean chides.

You swallow down the urge to quip something back. It’s only when the whetstone clears the curve of the machete and halts at the tip that you tear your gaze from the task and stare at Dean. “I can handle it.”

He smirks. “Oh, I’m sure you can HANDle it.” He shrugs. “Just wouldn’t want you to lose a FINGER.”

“How about you quit distracting her? She’s doing you a favor.” Sam’s brows lift pointedly at Dean. “And besides, why do you insist on cleaning weapons here when you could literally be doing it anywhere else in the bunker?”

Dean curls up the fakest smile at Sam. “Cause I love your company.” 

The boys settle after a few more grunts and scoffs at each other. You plunge nose deep into lore and wish the pages were waves pulling you out to sea. 

There’s no way Dean’s emphasis on “hand” and “finger” were accidental. Dean’s pretty intuitive. But you are a pretty good actor in your own right when you need to be. However, there’s still a chance that you said or did something when you were too intoxicated to remember.

It’s not helping that Dean’s performing his weapon cleaning like a goddamn seduction. Mr. Hand Model takes apart the sawed off, cleans the inside of and around the barrel, reassembles, and clicks all the pieces back into place. His nails look perfect, shiny and slick with the gun oil. His beefy fingers curl around the wood and steel in a way that makes you want to trade places with the firearm.

You somehow endure for 45 minutes. Last night’s indulgences are blamed in an excuse to head back to your bedroom. As you preemptively wish Sam an enjoyable outing later, Dean reminds you to rest up for dinner and a movie.

Ugh. You know how Dean gets when he won’t let something go that he finds hilarious. This could go on for a while.

It’s a trap. It’s gotta be.

Dean’s lowering your defenses with good food and good company.

It all started in the kitchen where dinner was served. He wasn’t kidding about the burgers. He made quarter pound medium rare works of art with cheese and all the toppings. The bun was Texas Toasted out. The guy even used the air fryer to produce ridiculously addicting potato wedges with a spicy paprika and chili powder coating.

Then, it was Dean cave time. No beer in sight, you were given pop to drink, with an offhanded “no repeat performance of last night” remark. You slid down the couch, groaning, pulling the hoodie over your face for dramatic effect. He grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl sitting between you on the couch and added, “You know, so you don’t pass out midway through the movie.”

You inhale the buttery goodness beside you and relax, popping back up in your seat. A swig of sugar wakes up your lethargic post-meal brain and settles the nerves that Dean is up to something. “So, what masterpiece do you have for us tonight?” you query.

He presses a button on one remote and the lights dim. Another remote in hand, another button press, and the television screen blares with an all too familiar soundtrack.

“The Empire Strikes Back.” You nod. “Good choice.”

“It’s your favorite one,” Dean reminds you.

“Yeah. Yoda. Duh.”

Dean chuckles.

Things fall into that easy going movie commentary that you and Dean are so fond of doing. It drives Sam crazy when he's watching stuff with the two of you. You’re spouting behind the scenes facts you know you’ve told Dean a half a dozen times already (like how the puppeteer who’s voicing Yoda also voices your favorite muppet, Fozzie Bear). Dean adds his own sound effects when the AT-ATs are firing, points out every Wilhelm scream, and helps Harrison Ford out by quoting all of Solo’s lines.

Leia is fixing some equipment on the Falcon and you comment, “I like the braid updo more than the cinnamon rolls.”

“Eh, I don’t know. The combo of beauty and baked goods is pretty hard to beat.”

Solo walks in and tries to help. Leia pushes him away. You sigh. “Here they go.”

Dean turns to you and raises an eyebrow. In perfect sync with Solo’s dialogue he utters, “Hey Your Worship, I’m only trying to help.”

You eye roll. “Would you please stop calling me that?” If it's a quote battle Dean wants, it’s on. If Sam were here, he’d be so done with the both of you right now.

“Sure, Leia.”

A huff for good measure. “You make it so difficult sometimes.”

Dean leans in. “I do, I really do. You could be a little nicer, though. Come on, admit it. Sometimes you think I’m all right.”

Wait. Wait. Oh no. You don’t have to be looking at the screen to know what happens next. Leia hurts her HAND trying to turn a lever. You clam up at all the fucking context this scene now holds for you and Dean. You can’t say the next lines. Because you know that Solo grabs Leia’s HAND as she says, “Occasionally, maybe… when you aren’t acting like a scoundrel.”

That’s when last night’s rum-infested confessions cut to the front of the memory queue. You adore scoundrels, rogues.

Dean doesn’t miss a beat, though. He even gazes down at one of your HANDS. He continues the performance. “Scoundrel?” Face half cast in shadow, his lids widen, irises still manage to catch the light and entrance you. “Scoundrel?” A huge grin emerges. “I like the sound of that.”

Solo is massaging Leia’s HAND the whole time.

Leia whispers, “Stop that.”

Dean replies, “Stop what?” Though he’s not questioning the screen. He’s locked eyes with you. Daring you to break away first.

Leia answers, even softer. “Stop that. My hands are dirty.”

Dean tilts his head, uncaring. “My hands are dirty, too. What are you afraid of?”

“Afraid?” Oh, Leia, Don’t egg him on.

“You’re trembling,” Dean’s voice is softer. He’s edging closer, but there’s only so much distance he can cover with the popcorn bowl in the way.

You decide now’s as good a time as any to try and act your way out of a paper bag. “I’m not trembling.” You coat your response with steel.

Dean is only encouraged by your participation. “You like me because I’m a scoundrel. There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life.”

You ponder for a moment. “I happen to like nice men.”

“I’m nice men.” Dean offers with complete sincerity.

You scoff. “No, you’re not. You’re…”

The music swells. Solo and Leia kiss.

But, you and Dean just stare at each other, for what feels like an eternity. You know C3PO is gonna interrupt the lovebirds at any moment. It’s the only lifeline you have, so you wait for the robot with the worst timing in history to save you from embarrassment.

“Guys?” Sam’s voice calls from the hallway.

You snap, stick straight, your back pressed against the seat. Sam must have come in through the garage.

Dean sighs. “Yeah, Sammy. Come on in. Back so soon?”

The door flings open. Warm ceiling lights from the hall halo Sam’s figure. “You know how they say, never meet your heroes? Totally valid advice tonight.” Sam stumbles into the room, all lanky limbs, and sinks into the cushy side chair. He runs fingers through his hair, his profile scrutinizing the screen. “Jedi?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Seriously, dude, how are we related?”

The three of you watch the rest of the movie without much commentary.

And you and Dean do not quote any other lines.

You cleaned up the dinner mess, alone, in the kitchen. You insisted it was the least you could do and Dean didn’t put up much resistance.

You find Dean’s bedroom door open on your way to your own for the night. You stop in the doorway to thank him again.

He’s putting away some shirts in his dresser, back turned. He looks comfy, cozy, showered, and perfect. You compose yourself in a split second when he senses you and cocks his head to the door. “Hey, everything okay?”

It’s his usual question, always assuming something needs fixing or solving. But, you sense extra concern in the tone this time.

You nod, wanting to ease the tide of Dean Winchester’s worry. “Thank you. Tonight was fun.”

“Yeah, even with Chewbacca?”

You chuckle. “Be nice.”

He waves you in as he wraps up his laundry. You oblige and sit by the tiny corner table. “Yeah, you’re right. Solo actually wouldn’t mind Chewy hanging out with him and Leia.”

You smile. Apparently, it’s Star Wars character dissection time. “So, if Sam’s not Chewbacca…”

The drawer squeaks closed. “Luke.”

“Han doesn’t mind Luke. Annoyed, sometimes. But, everyone annoys Han at one point or another.”

Dean sits at the edge of the bed, facing you. He stretches, hands entwined and arms raised overhead. A white t-shirt hugs his form here and there. You get a glimpse of perky nipples pressing against fabric. “Luke was competition. Before the brother-sister bombshell,” Dean states.

“Yeah, guess so.”

“But, the three of them, they made a good team,” Dean continues.

You nod, deliberate and slow.

“It only takes one person to start getting feelings for another one in the trio and then the whole galaxy is in jeopardy.” Dean taps the pads of his fingers together.

You sigh. You didn’t want to have to rat yourself out. But, Dean’s got a point. So, how do you go about telling him you’re finding him unbelievably attractive all of a sudden? And how do you ease his apparent worry? What, you’ll do your best to keep it in check? It won’t interfere with the work you do?

“We’re a good team, right? You, me, Sammy?” Dean cuts through the silence with the questions. He scrubs at the nape of his neck.

“I-I’d like to think so. But, you’re right, Dean. It can throw the whole balance off in a good working relationship if someone starts to catch feelings that aren’t reciprocated.”

His eyebrows form a distraught mountain peak. “So, it’s true?”

He looks so unhappy at the possibility, but you’ve gotta be an adult about it. “It just started happening during the last case.” You shrug. “But, I don’t have any intention of acting on them.” A hand raises. “Don’t worry.”

His lips purse tight. Nostrils flare. He’s deep in thought. Finally, he says, “But, you won’t know if you don’t act on it.” He nods more to convince himself now. “You should talk to Sam about how you feel.”

You blink, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Hey, I gave it a ‘good ole high school dropout that earned his GED’ try. We have established that I am not your type.”

“Wha-?”

“I’ll be fine with the two of you being a thing. I want to see you and Sam happy. If that means you both, together, that’s great.”

Your hands circle in front of you. “Whoa, whoa. Back up a minute.” Suddenly, your heart is racing.

“What?” He’s got that vacant puppy dog expression, every muscle in his face relaxed, wide open eyes.

You steady your breathing. “What made you think you were my type?” You can’t help the question. You only hope it doesn’t sound belittling or sarcastic. Right now, it’s your last defense of self-protection and attempt at fact finding. You gotta know if you are misinterpreting the revelation that Dean may in fact be upset if you and Sam were an item. Because… he wants you two to be an item?!

“You were acting… weird… ever since Lincoln and the manicure.” He twiddles his fingers. “I was picking up signals that weren’t there, I guess.” He shakes his head and mumbles. “Or, I probably was looking too hard to find something that wasn’t there. Like those times you tell me I’m sniffing around the wrong dog’s butt.”

You squish your lids at how crass you can be. It’s giving you less reasons to think he could find you attractive in any capacity. “Okay, but why was that so important to know?”

His arms extend from side to side. He’s getting riled up and more than a little miffed. But, you know that might work in your favor. His mouth tends to run on autopilot and the truth comes flying out. “Our, I don’t know, petri dish of co-existing in this jack-in-the-box wouldn’t get fucked up. I wouldn’t go off half-cocked and do something I’ve been wanting to do for a while unless I knew, for sure, that you felt the same way I did.” His hands retract and fall in his lap. He’s not looking at you, instead staring at his socked feet. “But, you don’t.”

You’ve got actual fucking butterflies beating their wings like bongo drums in your stomach. “What have you wanted to do for a while?”

His eyes track up to you. He’s inspecting you, hard. That’s doing nothing to quell the excitement inside. “What’s the point in telling you that now?”

“Because, maybe… you’re wrong and… you are my type.”

Dean’s lids lift a quarter of an inch. It’s a minute, micro reaction. But you catch it.

“Maybe I’ve been ignoring it for a while, because, like you. I didn’t want to mess things up. I love Sam.” You swallow, ready to bare all. “But, I haven’t been thinking about what his hands could do to me,” you whisper.

Dean inhales, sharp and quick through his nose at that confession. He exhales, adding, “Don’t fuck with me.”

You can’t do anything but grin in a way that you’re sure makes you look like a goddamn idiot. “I should have said that to you numerous times today. The pancakes. The gun cleaning. Freakin’ Han massaging Leia’s HAND!”

His lids widen. “Hey, it was me testing my theory. Like when we gotta douse someone with holy water to make sure they aren’t possessed. All but the movie, though. Swear I did not remember that scene until a few seconds before it started happening.” He sits up, rubs palms on his sweatpant clad thighs. “Well, okay, I didn’t remember the hand thing, but I wanted to see how you reacted to like THE best scoundrel ever.” Now, he’s grinning. “Been thinkin’ about my hands, huh?”

You roll your eyes merely to play along. “Alright, don’t get a big head.”

He cocks his head like a devilish rogue. “No need for a big head when I’ve got big hands.”

The giggle escapes before you can lasso it.

Dean slides his gaze up your seated frame. It’s a filthy, seedy expression. And hot as fuck. He stops to stare at your mouth, then licks his own. When his eyes meet yours, he commands, “Come on over and show me what you’ve been thinking of.” He pats his thighs. “I’ve got a nice warm seat for ya.”

He’s kidding, right? He wants you to sit on his lap. As if you’d even consider it.

And, yeah, you aren’t considering it. There’s no time for consideration when your legs have already propelled you out of the seat. You give his bedroom door a swing in a passing thought about closing it for privacy.

You can see the look of surprise on Dean’s face as you march over to the bed. But it’s mixed with want and eagerness. He opens his arms in welcome.

Warmth prickles your cheeks at the forwardness you display in accepting the invitation. One knee props up on the bed beside him. You anchor hands onto his shoulders, feel those fingers fan and lock onto your waist, and you bring the rest of your body up to straddle his lap.

You sigh, staring down at that kid in a candy store grin of his, and marvel at how very right it all feels. You settle, your ass firmly atop his thighs. The heat of him is immediate.

“Been wanting you like this,” he whispers, his nose brushing the skin exposed around your collar. A hand molds to the side of your neck, holding you in place. You shiver at the lips skirting upwards along the channel of your throat. “Now who’s ticklish?” It’s meant to tease, but his voice has lost that hint of mirth. It’s deeper, daring you to deny his observation as anything other than fact. “Maybe you aren’t ready for my hands. All.” A kiss at the juncture where your lobe meets your jaw. “Over.” A peck at the tip of your chin. He threads his fingers into the base of your hairline. He eases your head with a smooth tilt down. You lock eyes with his green ones once again. “You.”

The only response you can give is to connect your lips to his. Feeling the pliant, soft give of his mouth against yours. Then his insistent lean up and forward, forcing you to stand your ground while seated on his lap. You have to demonstrate your want is equal to his.

And you want. You so want.

Whatever you’re doing, his approving moan eggs you to continue. With each swipe and dip and dive of your lips, your mouth opens a bit more. The access encourages Dean’s tongue to taste. He laps at you gently, swirls around just enough that your core begins to ache. He pulls away and you groan. You’re drunk with desire, heavy and heady. 

Your lids blink open slow and sleepy. Thankfully you find Dean’s looking as blissed out as you feel. He’s inspecting your reaction through a hazy gaze. His hand captures the side of your face. Five pressure points sink into your skin. His eyes flicker to your mouth to watch his thumb outline the curve of your lip. The pad tugs and drags at your skin.

It’s only a second of wordless communication between the two of you. He asks with a lifting of his lids. You agree with an affirmative blink.

His thumb delves into your mouth, up to the first knuckle. You wrap your lips around. Suck with the gentlest of pressure.

His mouth lifts into a slight smile. “Good girl,” he whispers.

And, fuck if that doesn’t open your floodgates. You’re slick and ready.

Dean’s other hand runs along the waistband of your yoga pants. “You been thinking about my hands all over you…” His thumb glides under the fabric of your panties. “Taking you apart, piece by piece.” He delves farther down, until he taps the top of your mound. His jaw clenches at your gasp of anticipation. His thumb hooks under your tongue against the floor of your mouth to express just how in command he is right now. “You gonna do what I say, Your Worship?”

You nod. You’ll don a pair of cinnamon buns if he tells you to right now.

He smirks, cocky and full of confidence. “The better I make you feel down here...” He works his thumb between your folds and presses against your clit. You squirm in his lap. “The better you suck with that beautiful mouth, yeah?”

You nod again. He releases the pressure in your mouth, circles your bundle of nerves. He slips and slides while his fingers splay over your stomach to anchor in place. You latch onto his thumb again and suck on it like a straw

“Pretty sure this isn’t as wet as you’re gonna get,” he comments like a fucking weatherman. After only a few seconds, he sighs and shakes his head. “Too many fucking clothes.”

You’ve only sparred with Dean a handful of times. Every time, he’s bested you with graceful movements and quick action. He disengages from you for what must have only been seconds, spinning you around in his grasp and pinning your back to the mattress. He’s whipping off your t-shirt, pants, and underwear. Leaving you in only your bra.

He leers over you, hands running up the underside of your thighs. He kneels onto the bed, all of his clothes still on, to wedge against your ass. All of you is on proper display for him. And he takes it all in.

“Right, Gorgeous. Where were we?” One hand rides its way up your chest back to your mouth. You accept his index finger between your lips this time. His other hand resumes playing with your clit. “Hm. Much better.” 

A gasp escapes from your mouth. Your tongue ejects his finger so you can point out, “Who’s the one with too many fucking clothes on now?”

“All good things come to those who wait, darlin’.” He settles further, criss crossing over top of your flesh. His legs sandwich your right thigh while he strums your pussy. The hope of what else is to come pokes into your side through his sweatpants. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, slipping his finger into your mouth again. The pull of his left hand guides you to lean your head toward the right. He settles his beefy forearm onto the mattress above your shoulder.

His chest pins you down in a kinky wrestling move. Teeth snag your ear lobe. He applies pressure to the swollen flesh over a ridge of bone, then uses a flicking motion that makes your thigh twitch in delight.

You're sloppy with your technique of licks and sucks as he feeds you another digit. But, really, how is any gal supposed to mind their manners with Dean Winchester fingering her? You groan, helpless, as he explores your folds, finds your entrance with two tips. “I know you got a thing for my hands,” his hot breath tunnels into your ear canal, “but, if you want, I can fill you up real good with something else.”

You can’t reply with any actual words, only moans of agreement. The erection pressing into your hip bone sure does feel substantial. If it’s anything like his fingers - two fingers are currently surfing around your tongue and rubbing against your palate - he’ll have no problem filling you up.

To ground yourself in the reality of the situation, you snatch at the hem of his shirt and tug. Your pelvis tilts up at the slow insertion of one of his other fingers down below. “Damn,” he pants into your ear. “How long’s it been since someone took care of you, all nice and proper? So- so tight and wet.” He hums. “And warm.” A languid slide out with one finger, only to be accompanied with another when he pushes back inside. “Feel so good. Gonna feel even better around my cock after I make you come… Princess.”

You will not ever admit to the fact that you squealed with Dean’s fingers in your mouth. That you convulsed after only seconds of him playing with your clit and stretching open your hole.

Fireworks continue to skyrocket in your head. Your body tipped into the oversensitive zone. You’re aware of every bit of him plastered against you. He’s made you slick with arousal and sweat. Layers of fabric cling to skin. You should be suffocating with him laying atop you, but he feels like a weighted blanket. Warm, secure. Dean’s fingers don’t retract from your mouth or pussy. They are frozen in place. Your teeth nibble one set. Your muscles spasm around the other. 

He hasn’t moved. Hot breath huffs hard into the crook of your neck with an occasional sharp inhale and hold. You close your eyes. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that you could fall asleep like this.

“Was that… too much?” He deep-throat whispers in your ear now. “I may have gotten a little carried away.”

“N-mph-,” you chortle around his fingers.

“Shit, sorry.” He pulls his hand away from your mouth, the other slowly out of your hot core. Matching sighs release from you both.

“No,” you heave, and his chest rises up and off. “It was… awesome.”

He’s in your face now, all green eyes and pink lips, a veil of freckles along the bridge of his nose and forehead. “Yeah?”

You squint, trying to focus on all the glorious aspects. He’s studying you. You get the feeling he’s really not sure. “Why is the ladies man doubting himself all of sudden?” you tease, rocking to shuffle him out of the daze.

A shrug. “It’s you. I don’t always read you right.”

You lean your head back into his memory foam in an attempt to make full eye contact. “I don’t know how many ways you can misread giving me a mindblowing orgasm.”

He blinks, cautious. “Is what I did going to… you know… change things between us?”

“Oh.” You stop, dart your gaze to the ceiling past his shoulder for dramatic effect. “Oh, absolutely. I mean,” you pause, “how could it not?” You shake your head and feel his entire body go rigid. “It’s gonna be so awkward and uncomfortable around here.” 

When you dare to look at him, there’s a hint of something you don’t see often on Dean’s face. You think it might be fear.

You can’t bear it any longer. “I mean, I can already imagine the disgusted look on Sam’s face when we start making out right in front of him.”

Within seconds, the expression turns to one of relief and amusement, accompanied by the charming cockiness that’s gonna turn you to goo at the most inopportune moments from here on out. “Well, we don’t have to tell him right away. It might be fun to, you know, sneak around right under his nose.” He relaxes, sinks into you again. “I could have you all sorts of ways, in all sorts of places, doing our best not to get caught.”

You smile. “Don’t want to tell your brother you’ve stolen my heart with that five-finger discount of yours?”

He chuckles, rolls his eyes, then cups the heat of your folds again. “I mean, I sucked at Biology, but pretty sure this ain’t your heart, darlin’.”

“You’re wrong, you know?”

He blinks, all sass and spectacle, “This IS your heart?” He squeezes.

You peck his lips, roll your eyes, and curl arms around his waist. “No. Solo’s got nothing on you. YOU are the best scoundrel.”

A breathtaking kiss makes you all lightheaded. When he finally pulls away and allows you to exhale, he lifts one side of his mouth into a confident grin. “I know.”

THE END

[illuminatedquill]

Sabine Wren (A Quick Study)

The Seven Second Slip

So, let's talk about the Sabine and Ezra reunion scene in Ahsoka for a quick second.

I've talked in other posts before about how Sabine's innermost thoughts and feelings in this show are deliberately with held from the audience. Our favorite Mandalorian Jedi is not the easiest person to read, often to the detriment of herself and the people around her.

Sabine serves up so many different emotions throughout the show: anger at herself and at Ahsoka; excitement at unlocking the sphere to reveal Ezra's location in the other galaxy; fear at the potential loss of her only path to Ezra when Ahsoka contemplates destroying the map to prevent Thrawn from returning; despair when handing over the map to Baylon; determination in her battles against Shin, despite the difference in their skills; joy when reunited with Ezra again for the first time in a decade.

And, as usual, her trademark Sabine snark. Always reliable.

But all those emotions are a part of this mask she's kept up for a long time. Like I said before, the audience is never explicitly told or shown how Sabine is feeling/thinking throughout all this or why her drive to find Ezra is so all consuming that she betrays all he fought for to save him.

All those emotions I mentioned before stem from the same root feeling. And all the major characters around her - Ahsoka, Hera, Huyang, Baylon, Shin, and even Grand Admiral Thrawn himself - can only comment on what they see from Sabine in the moment they encounter her because the real feeling is buried deep.

Buried so deep that not even Sabine probably knows or understands what she's feeling.

But there's a brief moment - seven seconds, to be exact - when that mask slips.

And we see what's really buried at the heart of Sabine Wren.

"I knew I could count on you."

Sabine whips around, instantly recognizing the voice.

Stunned disbelief. Slowly dawning comprehension.

A slow, half-smile. The realization settling in. Sabine lets out a surprised breath, part laugh, part sigh of relief.

And then there's this. She takes a deep breath, exhales, and . . . looks at Ezra. It's like all the weight has lifted from her shoulders and Sabine can breathe freely again for the first time in ten years.

Sabine looks at Ezra and she finally feels at home.

Natasha is such a fantastic actress. She really does embody this role like no one else could.

It's such a soft look from Sabine. I adore it so much because, for once in the entire show, we see Sabine be completely open with her innermost feelings - even if she isn't aware of it.

Guys, gals, and non-binary Sabezra pals; that's the look of someone who is in love. It's the look you see in someone's eyes when they find their Person.

We don't get this look from Sabine towards anyone else in the series; even with Ahsoka and Huyang she's still guarded and snarky.

But not here. Not with Ezra.

There is so much love in her gaze; so much devotion and longing and adoration for this person.

The mask slips in these seven seconds. And we finally see past the walls she's put up to see the true beating heart of Sabine Wren; what's been driving her all this time.

Not anger. Not bitterness or resentment.

It's love. Always has been. Sabine loves so fiercely - and that is, unfortunately, why she also guards her heart exactly the same way.

She's been burned before. But the remarkable thing about Sabine is that she gets up and keeps trying. Doesn't always succeed, but she keeps trying.

(It's incredibly humorous to me that Ezra, meanwhile, is on the other side of this, grinning like a loon. Completely oblivious to Sabine's Look of Love.)

And, just like that, the moment is broken. The mask re-adjusts; Sabine and Ezra pick up their old habits and resume where they left off.

But, maybe, the walls aren't as high up like they were before. Not nearly as high.

[corvidares]

thoughts and feelings about fnaf: into the pit

(spoilers! talk of endings!)

so, while i enjoyed playing this game a lot, i am left feeling dissatisfied in a lot of ways, mostly in relation to what the hell just happened

on the side of things i LIKED:

the pixel style!!! good god this feels so perfect for fnaf. obviously we've always had the minigames in the retro style, and while fnaf has had a fine enough "look" for years, i really hope to see more stylization like this. the pixel art and animations are beautiful and full of character

there's a lot of visual detail, both in the sense of easter eggs (of course) and background clutter. fnaf games are always good at having gross settings, and this definitely does that. even the cloud of dust that pops up every time you jump in the ball pit is yucky, lmao

speaking of details, the sound design is also VERY good. it conveys a lot of what is not seen; the closer you get to a kid thats been captured by spring trap (pit trap? guys idk what to call him) the more you hear their cries and whimpers. of course, as always, sound is a part of the gameplay too, helping you know if spring trap is close and that you need to hide

the writing in terms of dialogue and such is good! i like that oswald is.. well, he's kinda dumb. rightfully so, for a kid! he does things that arent always logical, it takes him a hot minute to figure out that hes in the past, etc

its also genuinely distressing and sad to see him suffering, to see him try to tell his mom that something is deeply wrong, only to be brushed aside because (presumably) the possession magic is invisible to adults. to see his trauma get worse and worse as the days pass; nightmares, visions, straight up sleeping through his school day because he's been up all night! even his idle sprites are always sad and scared

the gameplay itself! the learning curve felt appropriate, i liked the strategy of using the noise makers, hiding, and the vents. fwiw i did play the "creepy" setting which is essentially easy mode. but i still died plenty, its not a complete cakewalk or anything.

the classic fnaf snark sense of humor is definitely here in this game, and i love it. the achievements? hilarious. the tips on the loading screens, jeff's entire character?? good stuff.

misc things i noticed:

for whatever reason, after night 1 i had a constant "bloody/strain" filter at the edges of my gameplay. not sure if this is like, random? game footage ive seen doesnt have it, and one even had a different filter. not sure what to make of it, it seems odd to just be a meaningless, randomized detail?

i got one glitch: after checking the cameras while the other kid is in security with me, oswald's sprite didnt reappear and i couldnt do anything. so i had to restart the game lol. not major, and i have no idea how common it is. otherwise everything was quite functional iirc

regarding the more critical side of things.. im mostly frustrated. now, i know fnaf, i know it never serves you answers on a platter. i know theres always an abundance of easter eggs and secrets (which i have tried to research, tho the game is still new). but upon finishing the game and seeing all the endings, i realized i didnt get answers about a lot of things i thought i would. for example;

where the hell is foxy??? the other core three are there and get added as enemies when you progress. his stage is present and some kids at the past party mention they miss seeing him. but he's not on ANY of the imagery throughout the pizzeria. in fact, we don't see him at all. if i didnt know who foxy was, i would only know his name. the only exception might be some empty masks in the backgrounds, but honestly i doubt it. this seems.. really strange to me. ill elaborate later

why did spring trap tie up oswald's dad? what was he going to do to him? did.. did anyone even die? oswald rescues everyone!

this is probably silly and i acknowledge that. but what was up with the giant spider jump scares..... i assumed itd be a new enemy or something but nah. THAT SPIDER WAS TOO BIG. WHY

what was oz's dad doing this whole time? was he trying to escape at some point? why is his shit all over the resturant?

onto just general critiques:

the gameplay did get a bit formulaic and sometimes fetch quests felt repetitive and/or like busy work. like why did i have to get five different sets of keys. bruh

the story has a lot of plotholes. and again, this is fnaf, these games have always looked like swiss goddamn cheese. but i can still be frustrated about it

for example, how is time passing in the past versus the present? IS it passing if we're not there? how do we affect the past? why does no one in the present acknowledge what happened here?? did spring trap get caught in this timeline? did anyone die? was oswald always a part of these events or did he change the timeline? this is presumably the first four/five murders, but a lot doesnt add up. is there a timeline where oz is one of the murdered kids? in the bad ending, he gets possessed, but not stuffed in a suit.

how does spring trap's possession even work? back then he was still alive and perfectly mortal... right? but then again, he supposedly strangles himself in the end, then leaps back to life to kill jeff? huh???

why is spring trap so animalistic? he doesnt seem human, and his eyes glow, which i dont think is something that suit can do (though i could definitely be remembering wrong)

speaking of which, i dont think the og four's eyes glow either, but they do in this game.

the "true good" ending does not make any fucking sense, first of all. second of all, considering the amount of work one would have to do to get it, it is extremely minimal. if i had done all that and only gotten a slight dialogue change as well as a "yay happy eating pizza at jeff's" scene i wouldve been PISSED.

also, speaking of not making sense, im sorry but oswald's lie to his dad about what happened is so obviously not true. why does he not question this at ALL? ESPECIALLY considering he has a fucking CHUNK OF HIS ARM BITTEN OFF. we see in jeff's ending that that shit bled a fucking lot! was his dad too concussed to call him on the obvious lie of "you fell and hit your head". and if he was, he would OBVIOUSLY NOTICE LATER THAT FIVE DAYS HAVE PASSED. AND THAT SOMEONE WAS WALKING AROUND PRETENDING TO BE HIM. WHAT (and dont say "oh he thinks he just lost his memory of those days" YOU DO NOT LOSE HUGE CHUNKS OF MEMORY UNLESS THERE IS MAJOR BRAIN DAMAGE OR TRAUMA. UH UH)

while talking to my gf, we came up with a couple theories.

one, she thinks its likely this game had more planned. and i agree - the missing presence of foxy is the biggest indicator, in my opinion, but theres other things too. for example, despite the fact that we're never able to enter the library or mill, both places have a map that can be pulled up when you press the map button outside those buildings.

the mill, especially, obviously has a ton of animatronic parts in the trash, and we all know that can be important... it seems to be too big a thing to be a simple easter egg, but what do i know.

another thing that feels way too big to be an easter egg is gabrielle; the girl who gives you a notebook with information about the animatronics (not foxy :( ) that provides hints for later. she mentions that her grandfather was a technician that worked with them back in the day. he never talks about it now though (the ONE acknowledgement we get in the present that bad shit went down!!!)

like.. is this henry? someone else? SURELY that is not a random guy. but it's a one and done interaction. i thought, when meeting her, that she would become a friend and ally, that we'd be able to learn more. the writing seemed to slant that way, but no. we're never able to talk to her again afaik

all this lends itself to the idea that the game was pushed. i can perfectly picture, like a year ago, someone telling the team "fnaf 10th anniversary is august 2024, get it out for then" and them having to cut stuff they had planned (but perhaps not developed, as afaik there are not missing assets showing foxy or the other things mentioned)

which is obviously a shame, and if thats the case i of course commend the team! this is a great game, especially if it was rushed. but this is becoming a pattern with fnaf games, and considering this is such a big successful franchise, that should not be the case.

anyway! overall, i truly did enjoy playing into the pit, and im very glad it was my first experience playing a fnaf game myself rather than watching a playthrough. and there are secrets that seem to be deliberately cliffhangers, in true fnaf game fashion. such as the photo that stuns spring trap, or the minigames.

[milogreer]

❥ my top ten redacted audio speakers !!

i’ve seen a bunch of people doing this so i wanted to join in! i love a bandwagon 😋

feisty werewolf; milo - i mean, come on. *gestures at my blog* look at me. milo very quickly took top spot, by the time i got to the panic attack audio i was like the rest of y’all can pack it up bc this guy’s got me hooked lmfao it was just so sweet to see a softer side of the guy who, at that point in the timeline, had mostly only been abrasive, cocky, and flirty. that accent also does everything for me. the exact moment i fell in love with him was when he said, “of course i’m not mad. i was worried - scared that you were hurt or something. but never mad.” 🫠💖

nervous air elemental; lasko - lasko… what can i say about lasko. he definitely awoke something in me lmao, initially i didn’t want to get into the elementals because meeting new people felt like a chore at the time but he immediately made me laugh and it was all downhill from there… i love that he’s kinda freaky and he makes me want to bite him in the non-canon audios, but even in prime universe he’s just so sweet and a really good friend. and his relationship with coworker makes me so proud of his development

arrogant incubus; gavin - i’ve said it before but gavin’s the reason i’m here! his hbs 2023 audio was my first audio of the channel, and to go back in time and watch his progression to that point was so heartwarming 🥺 him and freelancer are possibly the best pair in the universe, i just adore everything about them. gavin’s audios are actually the hardest ones for me to listen to because the love he has for freelancer is suffocating to witness in a really bittersweet way 😩

yandere cultist friend; blake - this one is um …. i never expected this HAHA when i first listened to the balance he really skeeved me out (as he should), but then mother mother released ‘explode!’ and for some unfathomable reason it got into my head as a blake song and i couldn’t dissociate it from him. on a second listen of the balance, i definitely appreciate his character more and the juxtaposition of him with elliott and sunshine vs bestie is so so interesting to me. i can’t even be mad at bestie because he’d have me wrapped around his finger too 🥲 rly nervous for his next story update

chaotic boyfriend; guy - BABYGIRL. humor is the biggest thing i look for in relationships both platonic and romantic and no one makes me laugh like guy does. he’s so my type and the way honey acts is literally how i am with guys i like, so guy audios are always so much fun to listen to 💖 and no BA hits quite like that pre-recorded one

i ended up talking more than i thought i would so the other half is under the cut!

it gets kind of messy in the second half because i think these could get shuffled around depending on my mood but for now these are my thoughts!

seer obscura; morgan - morgan is… captivating. i know he kinda only blew up after ‘time is a song’ but it’s with good reason; the atmosphere is so calming but also, like… there’s a longing to it, ykwim? the two of them being the only know seer obscuras naturally lends a hand to the tension between them. no one else understands their unique struggles - so when his new obscura acquaintance calls him up in the middle of the night asking for help and comfort, of course he isn’t going to say no. it’s such an intimate setting for their third audio together and you can feel the tension building the whole time up to “i want to know you.” it’s just a really good audio. very interested to see where his story goes

sarcastic inchoate demon; avior - THE SNARK. THE QUIET KINDNESS. THE MYSTERY. THE YEARNING. THE TRAGEDY. avior’s got it all. sovereign state had me on the edge of my seat the whole time and still does, honestly. his hbs rewind audio is one of my favorites; the effort and love he put into that little date to give starlight a reprieve from their shared hell… he is such a romantic 💖 there’s nothing quite like falling in love while stuck in an actual hell

unempowered boyfriend; geordi - he’s an interesting one for me bc my love of him is directly tied to cutie + cutie’s telepathy giving us a look into his head (i just melt over his whispered little i love yous and compliments). they have a fascinating and messy story that i live for even when it makes me sick lol i adore that they’re both flawed but that they’re taking steps to better themselves. it’s fun when couples in the redactedverse aren’t perfect but still try to be better out of love

mysterious stranger; hush - THE weird guy. within his first audio i went from being indifferent to charmed. i love a mystery and everything about him is mysterious, but he’s also so clueless sometimes that it’s like. so what if he tied doc to the bed in their first meeting, now he’s asking to hold their hand when he’s nervous. so what if his purpose is to free the sovereigns? he learned how to cook for doc. i can’t NOT love him

unknown yandere caller - i’m a ghostface fan, okay. and i’m a taurus. i like when people are obsessed with me 🤷🏼‍♀️ there’s just something so… like. listen. “you’ll start to expect me. you’ll start to crave me.” from the audio and “i know you’ll find them. and you’ll keep them. because they’re from me.” from his card? the arrogance. it’s bewitching. i need him back ASAP i don’t even care if he doesn’t get a real name, i just miss him. come back please 🙏🏻

[creaturecosmo]

Arcane S2 Act 2 Spoilers!!

Something I'm sure has been said before but I want to touch on a little is the idea that Viktor is a husk like the people he "heals." There are two things that bring this thought for me.

Look at these two pictures of Viktor. The first is from season 1, the second is from season 2.

It is a distinctly different hairstyle, especially in the length. Now, look at season 2 Real World Viktor and season 2 Void Viktor, when he's with Skye in Warwhick/Vander's mind.

Do you see the difference? Viktor's character model in Vander's mind is his first season model, before his almost-death and fusing with the hexcore. We don't see his second season character model in the Void or any mind space, only his first season model (that I recall, correct me if I'm wrong).

Now let's talk about Salo, the councilman who lost his ability to walk due to the blast. Before encountering Savior Viktor, we see him as a self-centered, judgmental, stereotypical rich Piltover person. He's ignorant and not very willingly to change his views on things, doesn't want to upset the status quo. Then, he meets Viktor. And when we see him reconnect with Jayce, all of these identifying characteristics are gone without a trace. Salo, the rich privileged councilman who was waited on hand and foot, is now living on a commune and is kind without a thought to Jayce, someone he previously held some amount of distaste for. He's kind without a hint of snark, feels empathy and concern that we haven't seen him display before especially after the explosion. It's night and day, like two different people. Sure, maybe he had a massive change in heart and he's grown. But that kind of change takes years if it can be done at all. Years haven't gone by for Salo's world. Later, it's revealed people like Salo, the ones Viktor saved, are husks. They're soulless creatures, or at least they will be depending on how you interpret Jayce's visions.

Take that idea, that concept of fundamental change, and let's look at Viktor. Viktor in season 1 is someone with dry humor and sarcasm, he's wary of others and wonders the whys and hows of everything. He's innately curious with a scientific mind and is slow to form trusting bonds. These are innate characteristics to his personality. Viktor in season 2, specifically in the commune, is not that Viktor. We see some of that same bite with Jinx, but we're missing that scientific mind. We don't have that same wariness or slow-to-form bonds. He's not asking why and how like season 1 would've. He accepts what Skye says at nearly face value. He accepts this power and barely questions it. Season 1 Viktor would've wondered about the consequences, the aftermath of his powers. What happens when it runs out and why these people are changing so deeply with just a touch. What are these markings on their heads, why are they there, what do they mean?

This Viktor is not season 1 Viktor, but he's not completely a husk either. He's not like the others in the commune, who have lost themselves and become a near copy of each other. But, pieces of him are missing like them. It's like someone turned down the volume on his personality, put it in a box. It's still there, just harder to access and not as strongly central to himself. I think the Arcane still has to let it's host have some autonomy to drive its cause. It uses Skye to manipulate the true Viktor, the Viktor inside the Void. But to let him have full autonomy would mean too many questions, which would've led him to the conclusion we see play out. When Viktor's powers are gone, either from running out or cutting the source chord, everyone dies. Viktor wouldn't have gone through with the Arcane's desire. A careful mix of manipulation and reduction of Savior Viktor's humanity creates a perfect puppet. You get the human connection to draw in more people, even those resistant, while still getting to do what you need to without too much push back.

I dunno if this is anything, but it's interesting to me.