#and then it stops being that way. he has people again. he doesn't need you. he doesn't come to you. because it makes both of you less safe

[ravenmacduff]

Sorry that I'm about to write a treatise on monsterfucking. But this post sparked that little obsessive part of my brain that needs to talk about it. So, I see monsterfucking in a couple of different ways. The most basic and simple is Monster HOT. Monsters are inherently sexy. And writers and directors *coughs Del Toro* recognize this and play into it. The Asset was designed to be attractive with a nice butt and kissable lips.

But we also have to ask why Monster HOT? Well, from my own experience as a trans woman, the monster is always portrayed as "the other". Myself and people like me are constantly demonized. They see us as dangerous. They call us predators, freaks, forced into this societal position where there are legitimately people afraid of us. (This goes for other marginalized identities too)

Afraid in the same way that they would be of a monster. And I think that's where a couple of my own ideas come into place. The first is empathy for the monster. In seeing ourselves in the monstrous, we want to reach out and offer love and affection. The same love and affection that we, ourselves need, and often don't receive. There's many horror movies where the monster just wants to be loved and in the end is rejected. Or killed based on societal fear.

King Kong is one story. It's represented in the final quote of the movie "It was beauty that killed the beast". Kong's love for Ann Darrow, which it's been a while, but I believe was rejected in the 1933 film, and accepted in the 2005 film. Kong always was "the other" (and was suggested in criticism of the film to represent blackness) to Ann Darrow, a conventionally attractive white woman. Kong's love of Ann represented the fears of interracial marriage at the time. Kong craved love, and society doomed him. As someone who is also othered doesn't it make sense to empathize with him?

Shape of Water, again also plays with this but more explicitly. Our Protag, Elisa is a disabled (mute) woman, her best friends are her black co-worker and her gay neighbour. All three are marginalized people. All three are shown to face discrimination throughout the film. Del Toro made sure that the fact these people were othered was text, rather than subtext. The main antagonist, Colonel Strickland, of the story is a white cishet man. His aggression, disregard for others and need for domination are extremely evident from his introduction. He's the kind of man who would be a protagonist in any other horror movie. Back to Elisa, it's her otherness that allows her to see the humanity within The Asset. The intelligence, the capability for love. In the end it's that love that saved both of them, while Colonel Strickland was doomed by his hate.

Those are just two examples of empathic monsters. For myself of course I want to love and be loved, and for a long time the fear of rejection for being a trans woman stopped me from truly achieving that. But I am loved and I'm loved by others like me. Who don't fear me because it found a different way to womanhood. And so of course I love monsters, because it shows I can be loved too.

My second thought about monsterfucking relates to a loss of control. Your powerlessness against a creature 10 times stronger than you. Who has all sorts of ways to make you submit. In other words a non-con kink. A kink that is often highly reviled because of its implications, but also very common. I believe the woman in the picture that I'm responding to is specifically referencing her own disgust with dub- or non-con.

Loss of control is a huge kink because many people, especially women feel like they always have to be in control. In control of their emotions, in control of any situation, in control of their sexuality, in control for their own safety. The point of being in control of our sexuality has been hammered in so intensely that to accept that we even have desires is hard. We're not supposed to want sex, we're supposed to deny ourselves. Slut shaming, attacks against women for being too sexual, all reinforce that a woman is not allowed to want for herself. We crave a release, to stop thinking all the time, to allow ourselves to want.

While heterosexual sex is so focused on the man, on the masculine penis, that a woman's pleasure is oft put to the side. You still have to think about others even when you want pleasure yourself.

Well, the monster doesn't care. The monster is going to give you exactly what you want have been denying yourself. This goes for men too. Louis from Interview with a Vampire is a good example. His bisexuality is frowned on by society, but Lestat doesn't care. Lestat is going to show Louis exactly what allowing himself to let go and accept pleasure is like. And for most of the movie Louis continues to try and deny himself, until he finally lets go and accepts who he is.

Speaking of vampires that brings me to my last point. Monsterfucking as a way to get power. And the clearest example I can think of this is Twilight. Bella, while attracted to Edward, was more interested in receiving the power Edward has, than Edward himself. She wanted to be a vampire and this was clear from the beginning. But Edward had to be all Mormon about it. There's many people who find power in the monstrous. To take a piece of the monstrous into yourself and thus gain the same power. And power is sexy.

Werewolves are shown as power through their physical prowress. It's very rare you see a lanky, malnourished werewolf. *Looks at a certain series with distain*

Idk I kinda rambled on. But those are my thoughts

Every day I am thankful to not be a TikTok user

[frownyalfred]

You said you wanted someone to remind you to explain why the stop was illegal in that fic you wrote where the Batfam get pulled over and Alfred has a load of guns so, here's your reminder 😊

Oh yes! Thank you for the reminder. I had a lot of people arguing with me in the comments of that fic, saying the cop was mostly in the right and there was nothing illegal about the stop. I watch a ton of dashcam videos and I've seen some wildly illegal and only mildly illegal stops, and the problem is, both still end up with charges, sometimes very serious ones. Knowing your rights during a traffic stop is very, very important.

Here's the fic if anyone wants to read along with my commentary below. Disclaimer: I am not a lawyer, this is not legal advice, and it might not apply in your specific state or region. It's just research I did for the fic.

The cop pulled over a vehicle that did not objectively match the suspect description at all. A silver Rolls Royce isn't a "dark colored sedan."

Mistakenly pulling over a vehicle and realizing it doesn't match the description is one thing; however, for most traffic stops to be legal, there has to be a reason to pull the vehicle over. You can't just have a hunch. You need to observe them speeding, etc, which we know Alfred does not do.

"Pulling you over as a precaution" -- fine, maybe a jury will believe that the cop truly thought they matched the description. But what comes next is definitely illegal.

The cop asks if there are any drugs or weapons in the car. Alfred replies there are legal firearms in the car. The cop indicates that he'll need to be in possession of those guns during the traffic stop for his own safety -- that is legal. However, it does not entitle the officer to a search of the vehicle itself.

Just because the officer needs to take Alfred's gun into his possession for his own safety, does not entitle him to a search of the vehicle itself. There has been no crime committed or suspected of having occurred. There is no legal reason to search the car at that time.

Alfred willingly turns over all guns in his possession. Having a legally registered gun does not create reasonable suspicion that the car or his person contains evidence of a crime, such as drugs or illegal weapons.

Another thing Bruce mentions here -- Alfred doesn't have to legally announce upon being pulled over that there are legal guns in the car. When asked, he does say so, but he does not begin the stop itself announcing that information. The cop gets twitchy about this and calls in backup. Bruce correctly indicates that Alfred has no legal requirement to announce this during the stop. The cop ignores Bruce and snipes at him when he continues to discuss this.

The cop asks why Alfred has the weapons. This is not relevant to the traffic stop, and Alfred is not legally required to answer. They are legally registered and there is no firearm limit in New Jersey.

The cop cuts Bruce off when he gives legal advice to Alfred. The implication is that he might arrest Bruce if he continues to do so. However, as long as Bruce is not physically obstructing the officer's investigation, he is doing nothing wrong in a legal sense and can provide Alfred information on his rights regardless of being a lawyer or not.

“Any update on that 10-29V?” -- the cop asking dispatch this is basically giving away that he knows by now, at the very least, that this is not the suspect vehicle. He is still completing the stop, however there is no legal basis for it.

"Anything I should know about in the car before myself and my fellow officer begin the search?” -- this might seem innocuous but cops will often phrase voluntary searches this way, so later in court they can say you agreed to a search of their vehicle. Alfred did not consent, and Bruce reiterates this.

"But they all looked spooked when I asked about guns in the car.” -- again, not evidence that a crime has been committed or that there are illegal weapons in the car. However if they were looking for weed instead of guns, this is about the time the cop would start lying about smelling an "odor" he needed to "investigate."

“It doesn’t matter if the driver had weapons. It doesn’t matter if he had a goddamned armory in his trunk. It’s not gonna hold up. Every single one of those charges would be dropped by the time your sorry ass got to the station to file them. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?” -- People in the comments assumed Bruce would buy off the charges or something, but truly they wouldn't hold up and the DA would likely be reluctant to prosecute, even in Gotham. I should've said "referred" instead of "filed" here but oh well. I guess that depends on the state. The point is, even if the guns were illegal, the stop itself was not legal and therefore that evidence would very likely be thrown out. Frank is a smart man and knows this.

"And maybe, if you’re lucky, they won’t ask for your goddamned badge" / “That one’s a detective over in Blüdhaven.” -- we see evidence throughout the stop that Bruce and Dick know this is an illegal stop, but they don't fight it, largely because that would cause more issues and it's much easier to get the charges thrown out after the fact if they cooperate. Screaming at the cop who's doing an illegal search and driving away will still get you charges, it might just not be the charges they wanted to pull you over for.

So, what's the overall takeaway? Illegal traffic stops can sound and feel very legal, even when they're not. Disagreeing with a single arresting officer can be tricky and it's easier to fight the charges afterward, rather than risk more charges in the moment. But from a legal standpoint, nothing about the stop, the follow up questions, or the attempted search was legally sound. Bruce and Alfred would have been well within their rights to sue the police department for a variety of things, or make a public stink about the traffic stop in the media.

Laws vary state by state in the US, so make sure you're up to date on your local area. Knowing what a cop can and can't ask you can help you keep your cool and proceed safely through a traffic stop. However, you can do everything right and by the book during a traffic stop and still wind up with a racist or angry cop who ignores the law. Bodycams and dashcam footage are very important in those situations. I think everyone should have a dashcam if they own a car, for a variety of reasons.

I am not a lawyer, this is not legal advice, this is just additional information on the background research I did for this fic and why the stop itself was written the way it was!

[prlssprfctn]

I awfully need a fic, where Jason gets drugged by a big dose of fear toxin and starts seeing Joker's hallucination around — kind of like Bruce in Arkham Knight game, you know — and everyone is just... confused what to do with all of it?

They can't really produce antidote because it would fuck up his mind more, so he is stuck in the cave for the next 24 hours, and no one is leaving, because they can't allow Jason to go through this alone. Again.

Jason tries to put a brave face of course (god, he is THE Red Hood, one of the most influential people in the Gotham, he can't be afraid of a stupid clown–) but the more hours pass, the less he can control his fear or anxiety. Instead of pacing around like a ghost — he did that in the first four hours — he sits down on the couch, hugs himself, and starts answering to Joker?

Yeah, he knows he is not real. He understands that feeding hallucination with conversations will not help — and Dick, the ultimate expert in handling hallucinations, really, gave him some tips on what to do — but he can't just ignore it now.

He is too scared.

He remembers what comes if he flips off Joker or stops playing by his rules, alright?

"Knock, knock!"

Joker's face is as pale and terrifying as Jason remembers it to be. And maybe it is hallucination, but he still can feel his panted, hot breath on his ear.

He is alone, of course. Or not entirely alone, but others would notice if Joker was really here, right?

"Who is this?" He whispers, sensing his family tensing a little, not being sure what to expect.

Jason either argues with his hallucination or asks to stop. Or maybe just wordlessly scraps on his temples or cheek, in the place the J scar used to be, before the Lazarus Pit erased it from his body completely, leaving no traces.

"The stray dog that can't bark! Do you know why it can not bark, Jayjay?"

"I don't fucking know," he murmurs, but the fiericness with which he screamed at this man for hours now is gone; he sounds tired even to his own ears, and it is embarrassing. "Tell me."

"Because I broke its bones with a crowbar, silly!~" Joker shakes his shoulders, and Jason can practically feel the familiar ache of shattered bones. "It– Ahahah, it is too hurt to bark! It can only whine!"

Jason laughs.

His facial expression doesn't really change — he is still frowning a little — but he laughs with a painful wheeze. Joker is pleased enough to sigh dreamily in his ear.

Good job, Jason.

"What so funny?" Dick asks carefully, a patient smile on his face — he has been trying to distract him with conversations the most; Bruce prefers to keep his silence, and Tim thinks accidental physical touches help more than talking.

"He just said a joke," Jason shrugs weakily.

"Tell it to them," Joker orders. "Let us all laugh."

He doesn't really want to. But he can't disobey. He can't allow himself to die again, and–

"Knock, knock," he clears up his throat.

"Who is this?" Tim echoes, turning his chair to him, smart eyes scanning him up and down.

"The stray dog that can't bark," Jason tugs the tips of his own hair. "Do you know why it can not bark?"

Bruce tenses in his chair. He tenses in a way, Jason thinks, he already knows this joke; he has already heard it before. He almost looks as if he wants to stop him, cut mid-sentence.

But for some reason, he doesn't.

"Uh, why?" Dick tilts his head.

"Because my– its bones are broken," Jason stutters. "You know, dogs can't really bark when they are hurt? Just whine."

He can't bring himself to laugh again, even though Joker keeps giggling over and over.

"That's not funny, Jay," Tim murmurs.

"Yeah. I guess it isn't. But if I don't laugh, he'll get the crowbar again, and I really, really want to keep barking," Jason smiles.

He tries to ignore pitful glances of his family members, and the torture continues. No one breaks his bones this time, but Jason still whines when Bruce hugs him by the end of the night, pressing to his chest.

Joker is not here anymore, but Jason still can hear his taunting whisper, somewhere in the back of his head.

You will die his son.

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Why hello my lovely friend!! 😍 I'm so ready to dive into your thoughts on this chapter. 💜💜

Right off the bat, the sexual tension with the gambling 👌🏻. I don't know what it is, but I always love in movies or shows or books when they have a poker game/card game between two people who are obviously into each other. I don't think it's a trope, but- the sexy smiles over the cards, the bluffing, the flirting, the teasing, just OH GOODNESS 😮‍💨

Yesss I love those kinds of scenes too! (Clearly lol) I'm so glad you agree. 😏

I'm not going to lie, I would have thought this to myself if I was in her situation. At the same time I feel bad for her because she has all this bottled inside and it's probably even worse that she's in close counters with him, just second guessing everything. BUT I also love that you've given us these wonderful domestic moments between the two of them. ❤️

The close quarters are a blessing and a curse here, isn't it? 😅 Thank you for that compliment!! I wanted the buildup here to be about the small moments of connection. 💗

DANG IT DEAN STOP HIDING FROM YOUR FEELINGS! Man really out there chopping wood trying to forget all his problems and relieve some tension 👀, while the reader is inside trying to educate herself🤣

Ughhhhh you just wanna throttle him!! loll Meanwhile, she's wasting absolutely no time to learn all the can about this man, because with him it's like trying to pry open an old clam. 🤣🤣

The way you integrated John's journal into this chapter was so good! It adds on to the lore of the story. I'd never read through the official "John's Journal" merch so it was nice to see those little details and honestly made me feel more connected to the reader, because it was the first time that I was reading the entries too!

Aww thank you!! It honestly made me emotional (and sympathize so much more with Jhhn) just reading the journal, so I just tried to infuse as much of my own reading experience in the reader character. I'm so glad it made you feel more connected to her. 💞

Girl it's okay we can cry together- DEAN WAS IN THE CRIB WITH SAM. Nothing is okay. I am made of tears. INCONSOLABLE 😭

Girl when I read that part of the journal, the way I was like:

(And YES, spray that man like a bad dog!!)

AND he knows that she is supposed to be HIS. For the love of rice krispy treats! SHE HAS A BROKEN ANKLE DEAN. Don't let her leave!!! Sweetie he's a grumpy old onion, you gotta peel him back one gorgeous layer at a time. 🤣

Girl you took me OUTttt. 🤣🤣🤣

This bit is also so heartbreaking, because it's literally her meeting her mate and her believing that he doesn't want her, when it's probably all he does. There's something so raw about that. The idea of finding someone who was literally made for you and believing that they want no part of you. Oh goodness my fragile heart😭

Yeeeeep, honestly reminds me of If The Stars Wish It So, when the reader has that moment of "is it me? Why doesn't he want me?" But in reality, Dean's fighting his instincts to be with her tooth and nail. 🥲🥲

I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting it to be a Bear. I literally thought this was going to turn into Dean saving her from a Wendigo- because of the allusions to her dad being killed by one, but this was such a (un)pleasant surprise LOL

LOLL you know what, initially I was going to go the Wendigo route for this climactic moment, but it felt more surprising to me to have it be a non-supernatural threat, just a typical bear wandering through his territory. 😂

I LOVE this insight into his head, just a little piece but enough for the readers to see that Dean does in fact care and that he does feel something for her! Not to mention again... HE PICKS HER UP. I've read Dean in so many fics doing that but each time it just makes me *swoon*.

Thank you!!! I thought this window into his head was needed, but also, Alpha Dean is just so....ALPHA. 🫠🫠🫠

And oh my word, him finally sitting down with her on the couch and allowing himself to let down some of his walls and let the reader in is just so good!! Not to mention now the reader is going to tell him the truth over how she lost her dad! I'm very excited to read the next chapter, but this one was amazing Alex! 🤗

He finally broke down a bit, seeing how much he was affecting her! 😭 I'm so glad you enjoyed that. I tried my best to make it feel like a natural progression. I so hope you enjoy the next chapter, my friend! 🥰💕

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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[mintmatcha]

I could see Yamaguchi being the type of guy you think of totally platonically. You only ever see him at parties and he’s very sweet and asks a lot of questions and has interesting things to say but it stops at that.

Until one day the drinks are a little stronger than usual and you both end up accidentally wasted and you just kind of fall into bed together, there’s no real rhyme or reason to it. And when you wake up with him still in your bed the next morning you realize he’s actually the perfect guy and you absolutely develop a crush but it’s very clear he thought it was a one night stand.

Cue a comedy of errors trying to wife this boy up when he secretly thinks he cashed out all his luck getting you to sleep with him once and there’s way in a million years you would ever want to be involved with him of all people.

The day after the hook up is spent in bed together.

Because you're both too hungover to function. The two of you bury your faces into the pillows and complain all morning, still half naked, still smelling like sweat.

"i need to go home," he keeps laughing.

"ngh." is all you can muster to say back, so he doesn't move. oddly enough, he never reaches for you again, despite being so close.

[infizero]

silver hasn't changed - he's just been put in different scenarios (a silver character analysis)

something that constantly frustrates me when it comes to discourse over silver's character is that people either treat him as a total uwu soft boy, OR they overcorrect and treat him as some unhinged asshole.

silver's always been a mix of both, but here's why i think it feels like he's gotten "softer" to some people:

silver has ALWAYS had sort of two sides to him based on what situation he's in. he's this pure-hearted, naive kid who refuses to give up hope and who cares about people deeply.

but part of his naivety is that he's very headstrong when pursuing his goals, and tends to see things as very black and white when other people get involved ("you're either with me or against me" kinda thing)

silver is not one or the other, he's both. HE'S ALWAYS BEEN BOTH. in 06 you see scenes of him ruthlessly trying to murder sonic, but you also see scenes of his relationship with blaze, or him taking in the beauty of the nature he's never seen before.

and these sides of him are intertwined as well. the brash and aggressive way silver treats people in the rivals series, for example, stems FROM his naivety and social awkwardness. silver genuinely expects people to just believe him and let him do what he needs to do without question. so when people demand he explain himself, or get in his way because they don't understand what he's doing, he gets frustrated.

(i also just don't think that the rivals series is a good frame of reference to point to when complaining silver is too soft nowadays, considering that literally everyone in those games is like 50% more aggressive than they usually are lol. espio literally tells knuckles, his friend, to his face that he doesnt care that the master emerald is missing and won't help him find it)

anyways, getting more into specifics, 06 and the rivals games show off how silver acts when he's on a mission - he's brash, he's aggressive, and totally focused on doing whatever's necessary to achieve his goals.

his next appearance after that is sonic colors ds, where he's way more chill and casually talks with sonic. which makes sense because there's no reason stated for silver being there; he doesn't have a goal he's pursuing at the moment, so you're able to see that more relaxed side of him.

he's aggressive again in his next game appearance, generations, because he thinks sonic is an impostor - again, there is a specific reason for him acting that way.

forces i don't count because silver is so egregiously out of character there ("i'm an optimist but i'm also a realist" - dawg no the fuck you are not) but he's definitely not an uwu soft boy there

in team sonic racing he's definitely a bit softer which makes sense considering it's just. car racing. and in idw for the most part he's either chilling, or helping the others face a threat, so again there isn't really a reason for that aggressiveness to rear its head.

but we DO see it come out in idw more recently!! as soon as he thinks something's up with "duo," he immediately jumps to that anger and brashness:

these moments are pretty in line with the aggressiveness he displayed in 06 or the rivals series, which i think goes to show that his character hasn't really CHANGED.

it's just that more recently, he's usually been in lower stakes situations where that softer side of his is spotlighted, while during his earlier appearances that more aggressive side was what was spotlighted. but both sides have always existed, and both sides continue to exist.

tldr: stop complaining about silver being too soft please for the love of god

[astracora]

Hi! Idk if u take writing/drabble requests but I'm chronically ill and have wondered how the LaDS boys would treat a chronically ill MC. Thank u for reading!

Hey! I've never taken writing requests (primarily cause I have no idea if I could do them justice or offer what people are after). As a chronically ill person myself, and as someone who writes their main mc as chronically ill, I'm a little bias, in that I personally think the boys would treat their partner with understanding, love and affection regardless of who that person is or what they're dealing with!

For basic pov overviews though! (All chronic illnesses represent differently! I'm working mostly off personal experience without being TOO specific.)

- Zayne is probably the most initially knowledgeable about the nature of chronic illness. He'll have seen plenty of people struggling and managing their own around his job. He's also shown to research topics that are important to him. There's very little doubt in my mind that the man would pull up every medical document and every study done, working late into the night in his free time to make sure he has a specific understanding for what you'd be going through.

- He's also probably the one who pushes more to make sure things get done. Medical appointments, any medication that's required. He's harsher on things that can harm you, cause a flare-up or increase the strain on your body. He cares and he worries, and he just wants to help alleviate what he can.

- It can be frustrating and overwhelming, he's not perfect, no one can be when it comes to offering support, especially for things that have no cure. If you explain to him how it makes you feel, he walks back and tries to find alternatives. Softens his approach somewhat. He's a logical man so he'll always jump to trying to give a solution, but he cares so deeply, if you say you just need an ear. He'll be there.

- Raffy is interesting because his reactions to his lemurian biology make my brain go 'oh he probably gets it' but instinctually. That sometimes things hurt more, sometimes days are just harder, sometimes it takes more energy and willpower to exist than expected. Thinking about his recent card especially, and the way his health dipped in and out. The way it was obvious he's weaker and gets sick without moisture or water. It's a different reasoning, but he understands to some degree.

- He's the king of creative solutions and the one most likely to focus on trying to inject joy and laughter into your life. He's also a man who doesn't care about money, canonically this boy is the 'what does it cost 10 dollars'. So whatever you might need, he's bought before you've even thought about it. (Even if he does tend to buy those really useless trend items that absolutely don't help with your condition and they're just a scam... so so many out there.) He may not have the best ways to help, but he'll never ever treat you differently. Love in his eyes, a masterpiece in his heart. Raffy will absolutely never stop wanting to paint you no matter what.

- His words can be harsh, he might say something that hurts without meaning too, a joke that doesn't land, or a tone that itches more than you'd like. Somedays you aren't bothered, somedays it hurts. He'll always give a heartfelt apology, and adjust the way he acts so it doesn't happen again. I can imagine him making a mood tracker, how are you feeling today? Move the smilie face if you know.

- Xavier is the one who sits you down and wants to talk about it most. Not because he won't do his own research, he's happy to, but he needs to know how you feel above all else. He needs to know how to support you, especially out in the field. He's your combat and mission partner. He's also incredibly observant. He'll notice when a flare up starts. He'll notice if your mood is dropping. He'll notice when you're starting to feel like you're drowning. He's also nearby, at all times. He checks in on you constantly. Through messages or just dropping in. (He promises the food he brings is takeout and not a remnant of a burned down kitchen.)

- Do you want someone to keep you company at night so it's less lonely? Do you want him to stay around and help ease aches and pains. He and Zayne especially know good massage techniques. Xavier because fighting can destroy your body without good upkeep. He'll go out and grab things for you. He'll assist you happily. He totally didn't buy more cleaning robots so you can worry less about the stuff around your house when you can barely leave your bed.

- He's wary on the battlefield, probably initially treating you like glass. It's because he worries and he cares. He doesn't want anything to happen to you. Sometimes that bothers you though. You live with this, you have for years, and you know how to live with it. He's protective by nature, but he also trusts you to tell him when you've hit your limit. While he's always ready to step in, it has to be by absolutely necessity or your permission.

- Sylus is a researcher too, but unlike Zayne, he has no basis to work off. As evidenced by his stories and texts, however, he will learn ANY skill in order to help the MC, or make his own life easier to control. This is no different, I think the only difference would be, his first instinct is not to go to medical documents and studies. He goes to people. Finds leading experts, no matter the cost, learns from others with conditions similar or as close to yours as he can. He wants to be able to have a proper conversation with you about your chronic illness, so feels like he has to have a good basis of understanding before he starts. He wants to be able to ask important questions, to piece together context. To sit you down and give you OPTIONS. Because sometimes it's really hard to know what you need, and sometimes someone telling you what they can offer is better to give you somewhere to start.

- He's also another 'throw money at it' kind of person, but he will buy you the kind of equipment to help that hospitals use. This man buys top range shit, that he KNOWS will have some effect on lessoning your strain or alleviating some degree of pain. Is there a tool the doctor suggested that you think could help? He bought it yesterday, he got five, he doesn't want to leave them in his other bases incase something happens but he's willing to have Luke and Kieran bring them to you wherever you are. Will set up grocery shop orders for you, doesn't care how much it is, does it make your life easier? Alright, it's done. While admittedly he leans a lot on money to help, it's the best way he knows to help.

- Probably struggles initially with his job, with the stress of his general life, his degree of injuries and how stress and strain can directly impact a chronic illness. It probably causes him to pull away a little bit. He cares a lot, and because of that he worries he'll be a hindrance more than a help. Would be the type of person to try to help from afar, forgetting how deeply important it is to have a support system that's available and physical to help. While he'll try to keep the worst away from you (I don't want to give you anymore nightmares of me), he'll listen and stop pulling away when he realises that him being there means everything. So becomes far more physically present as well, though the amount of money he wants to spend on you probably does not go down.

Fundamentally though, the boys are all people who even with their flaws, would listen and learn and attempt to be as supportive as they possibly can be. Days are hard, and life can be tough, and chronic illness is exhausting to combat. It could never make them love you any less, they're in to the long haul. They just might occasionally need a little nudge to really understand what you want from them.

Every last one would understand things like cancellations because of bad days or mood swings and low moods, would be willing to do your grocery shops, would go to doctors appointments with you, assist with physical therapy if needed, so this is less about how they'd treat you, and more the methods they go about it.

I hope that was kind of what you were after! 💖

[ofbatsandballads]

Hi Rae. Who gave you permission to snap my heart in two at midnight? No, really, this has me going insane so have my ranting under the cut:

He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see. […] But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

The way I’m already screaming “because he does have a place there!” before we’ve even hit the end. Something about Jason not being able to accept love not because other people are liars or insincere but because he can’t comprehend why anyone would love him is so heartbreakingly in character.

It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

Reciprocity—tit for tat, an eye for an eye—being so ingrained in his perception of the world and of himself that he can’t realize he doesn’t have to return the favor, that he can just accept the kindness for what it is, makes me want to cry. Thanks.

shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin.

Stray dog coded Jason who doesn’t know what to do when touch doesn’t hurt is so dear to me. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: your characterization of him is golden.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does.

Jason who loves so deeply, so completely that it could destroy him. Jason who has spent both of his lives just trying to stay above water, running from anything that could harm him. Jason who was killed because he loved so fiercely. Just…him finding himself loving someone that much again and sort of bluescreening on what that means for him.

There is no happy ending when all he can offer is fleeting comforts and one word answers. He doesn't deserve your patience, your endless willingness to understand and wait for him to figure himself out.

The absolute overpowering emotion of needing to drill it into his head with love and kindness and care that there is a happy ending with all of that actually. And that he does deserve good things and patience and love. I just know loving him would be so frustrating sometimes but that each time it would just make you want to stick around more.

If he knew how, he'd ask if you were really okay with who he is, what he does, how he acts. Your eagerness to make him feel like he does fit into any place in your life makes him wonder if it's all just a mask. If you're just waiting for him to be at his worst to reveal that it's all a lie– that he's truly and devastatingly unwanted.

So this whole paragraph took me out but that last line destroyed me. The phrase “truly and devastatingly unwanted” is going to live rent free in my head for a while now.

it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else.

I recently read a piece of Jason meta that said that he would accept any and all harm or mistreatment just to get the companionship and love he craves and this really speaks to that because why are you picking up ice cream when you’re bleeding out??? Oh, it’s because he thinks he’s unworthy of basic human decency if he has nothing to offer.

You're just too good. Everything Jason isn't. He feels like he's dragging you down with him when you offer to keep emergency weapons for him hidden in your apartment. He's definitely staining everything you are with his greedy hands when you start keeping extra first aid kits in your closet.

Clawing at the walls while screaming “they do it because they love you!!!” I love reading this from the perspective of his partner because it’s just sitting here listening to the internal monologue of man that is confidently incorrect. Your description of him being an unreliable narrator is spot on.

And when you clean out a drawer in your dresser for him to keep clothes in, when you stock your cupboards with all his preferred foods, fill your shelves with his favorite books, and play the songs he loves to hum along to, he selfishly lets himself believe you might want this forever too. You do.

One of my favorite things about how you write Jason is that he always, without fail, breaks at the end just a little bit. The sustained love and care and kindness always manages to get the tiniest foothold in his soul, like a flower growing through a crack in concrete. Even when he thinks he’s being selfish or delusional or blindly hopeful. It’s so true to what loving someone like him would be like—slow and gradual and hard fought, but resolute and unflinching.

So yeah, in short I love this with my entire being and I will be sending you the bill for my therapy (please never stop writing).

If He Could

Jason is an unreliable narrator ~1k words

Jason's no good for you. He's too brash, too rough, too easily pulled away to defend the streets of Gotham. He's a liability in your life, a dark stain in the otherwise perfect fabric of your reality. He's all the worst of shadowed alleys and tortured corners of decaying apartments.

He's quick to pull a weapon, even quicker to throw a punch. He doesn't quite remember how to make his smile look natural, how to stand without his shoulders tense and ready to dodge whatever comes his way. He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see.

But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

And he doesn't know what to do with it. Doesn't know how he should react to your bright eyes and soft touches and fond words. It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

He knows he shouldn't tense up at your reassuring pats to his arms– but he freezes, shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin. He knows he shouldn't be so quiet when you ramble about your day, but he can't find the words to describe just how much he does care about every mundane fact you share with him.

And oh, does he care. Too much even. Cares in a way that scares him off the grid for days at a time, only to sheepishly find his way back to your fire escape with a tub of melting ice cream or cooling coffee and a half-baked excuse on his tongue.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does. It's you who he wants to come back to when his feet ache and his eyes strain to make out words and figures. It's you who makes him feel not so heavy when the sun starts to rise over the tired, crumbling buildings he knows better than his own skin.

He has a portion of his heart and mind set aside just for you. But Jason can't tell you that. The more he relents to you (because he can never say no when you ask), the more he threatens to ruin you. He's a slow rot, a plague that sets into the very marrow of your bones.

But you don't see it. He doesn't want you to, but you should. You should understand that by carving out a place for him besides you, you are going to destroy yourself from the inside out.

There is no happy ending when all he can offer is fleeting comforts and one word answers. He doesn't deserve your patience, your endless willingness to understand and wait for him to figure himself out.

It's not fair to you– to either of you. But he always ends up back in your living room, always ends up with his hands curling into fists as you graciously take whatever food or trinket he's brought to try and win your continued affections.

He secretly believes he must be the most selfish person in the world when he leans into your warm hugs, when he passes out on your couch after your semi-regular movie nights. (He tries not to linger on what it means when he sleeps better on your old, worn furniture than his own bed)

It's cruel of him to lead you on like this. It's cruel of him to set himself up for heartbreak. You'll learn that he's not worth your time soon enough. But, for now, he can't help but bask in the way you offer to stitch the tears in his clothes, the way you so excitedly ask him to try every new recipe you've made.

If he knew how, he'd ask if you were really okay with who he is, what he does, how he acts. Your eagerness to make him feel like he does fit into any place in your life makes him wonder if it's all just a mask. If you're just waiting for him to be at his worst to reveal that it's all a lie– that he's truly and devastatingly unwanted.

Those words still haven't come from either of your lips– don't come– even when he messes up and brings you the wrong flavor of ice cream. (It's not that he forget what you liked– it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else)

The words don't even come when he doesn't tell you why he disappeared for over a month this time. (Someone got too close to his identity– to you. He had to track down everyone involved before he could even think of resting or seeing you again)

Jason wants to have the right words, wants to do the right thing, and make you laugh and watch your eyes light up because of something he did. He wants to hug you back in a way that makes you feel safe and needed and wanted above all else. He wants to. He just doesn't deserve to give you that, even if he knew how to do it.

You're just too good. Everything Jason isn't. He feels like he's dragging you down with him when you offer to keep emergency weapons for him hidden in your apartment. He's definitely staining everything you are with his greedy hands when you start keeping extra first aid kits in your closet.

But for the life of him, he can't stop. Can't stop his familiar trek to your windowsill. Can't stop craving the hugs you offer, the conversations you share.

He wants this forever. He wants to keep this– you– whatever this is, in between his fingers and never let go. (He could if you'd just let him) You would.

And when you clean out a drawer in your dresser for him to keep clothes in, when you stock your cupboards with all his preferred foods, fill your shelves with his favorite books, and play the songs he loves to hum along to, he selfishly lets himself believe you might want this forever too. You do.

[halitis]

Any thoughts on Roy and Hal?

How they would interact with eachother in Roy's Speedy era?

Hal becoming Roys 2nd Parent?

DO I HAVE THOUGHTS

BOY OH BOY DO I HAVE THOUGHTS. ALWAYS. my two faves :DDD

hal is really quite good with kids! probably one of the best in the league i'd argue. it's because he treats them like independent people with thoughts and feelings. while roy loved that at first, it ended up causing some light strife between the two when ollie started going off travelling. because he HAD enough independence, he didn't want more. he wanted someone there.

while hal and roy are close now, they weren't really close before the events of 'snowbirds dont fly'. hal thought roy was a good kid, with a lot of love in his heart (although, sure a bit rebellious but thats to be expected). hal helping roy out like that, helping to save his life, it really put a foothold into their relationship. hal started to realise what roy needed, was different to what he himself needed as a kid and adjusts accordingly. roy loves it and that hal is willing to put in the work for him.

i, personally, don't see hal as roy's parent. i don't think roy needs or wants another parent, he had brave bow and he has ollie and dinah. that isn't to say they aren't family! i just don't think they have a strict label on what they are to each other, they are just family. if anything though, i'd label them either as cousins or hal as his uncle. (this isn't to say i am judging or whatever if you view hal as roy's father! i do incredibly understand why and i do see the potential).

[continued under the read more]

they Bicker a LOT... but it is how roy shows love. hal was concerned at first because during his speedy era, sure roy would tease but he would never argue with him. it took a bit to realise "oh he's just growing up" (hal went through a brief crisis over that one). now you can find them having pedantic arguments over nothing, and if someone interrupts or tries to stop them; they are just like "???? we weren't fighting ????"

hal and roy ended up bonding over sports, hal would take him out to baseball games because it was An Iconic Part of American Culture and he cannot BELIEVE ollie deprived his son of this (roy could not have given less of a fuck), but he ended up getting really into it. to this day they will call each other just to talk about the teams on for each season. sometimes they will go months without talking, only to message out of the blue going "did you SEE that angels game. what the fuck was that!!?"

hal helped out with lian a bit when she was a baby, he's used to dealing with kids and would babysit her when roy just needed a break. now however, lian doesn't really know him that much. roy wants to try and keep her life as stable as possible and hal isn't around enough for roy to trust him to stay a presence... hal adores lian though, roy will silently send through photos and videos and what not and hal will always compliment her. it's so tragic, and hal really hates it but at the same time he does understand. he would probably do the same in roy's position afterall.

roy looked up to hal so much as a speedy, like that is his dad's cool best friend who has seen SPACE and his entire thing is being FEARLESS omg omg. cue hal being smug about this to ollie, that his son thinks hal is cooler than him. ollie is quick to disabuse this notion to roy, with many mortifying videos of the green lantern. roy never looks at hal the same way again.

hal and roy bond over their complicated relationships with carol and jade, it's a lot of sighing and gossiping. it's not a competition, but roy somehow always wins (hal takes a guilty joy in thinking 'at least i'm not roy'). i think they should get to have a girls night. as a treat. let them do each others hair and watch movies and gossip about girls!

i had more to say abt them, but it's 3am and i am so Bone Tired..... hope this fits what u were looking for op! thanks for the ask MWAAAH!

[candyskiez]

thinkin about the conversation abt guilt between jon and helen again. and how the distortion realized “i wasnt going to stop doing it so i decided not to feel bad”. and how Feeling Guilty About It never changed anything for jon. it didn’t stop him from feeding. didn’t stop him from hurting people or being rude or abrasive. certainly didnt fix the apocalypse he was tricked into causing. his guilt never helped or saved anyone, and his choice to carry it around with him was mostly for self flagellation purposes. but also it was because he never stopped seeing people as people. even when they were his prey they were people. it’s just. !!!

GODDD YOU DONT EVEN KNOW. SEASON FOUR KILLED ME. SEASON FOUR CHANGED ME AS A PERSON. Grggrgr. God you don't even know. Ok ok.

Jon wants so badly to be a good person but he doesn't want to *get* better. He wants to BE better. Which. I never saw portrayed so accurately in fiction before and kind of felt like seeing my internal organs just. Out there. On the screen. But yknow. He wants so so bad to be good and he has no idea how to actually Stop hurting people and giving up these awful behaviors means giving up the things thatve kept him safe his whole life. His desperate attempts to do better in s4 are often met with rejection, and regardless of how understandable the others actions are (and I will argue it was understandable till the heat death of the universe) it ends up leaving him in this limbo where he doesn't feel like changing is Working. And it doesn't really help that he only tends to actually understand his feelings and other people's perspectives until they've blown up and he can't ignore them anymore. He so badly wants to be a good person but he's kind of just. He's not given up on per say but he's so angry and frustrated about it because nothing he does seems to be good enough or actually seem to improve in any meaningful way.

Ok ok on the note of the actual conversation you brought up. Sorry i got very sidetracked. Jon and guilt is so so interesting because it's embedded so deep in his personality. So much of who he is was fundamentally shaped by guilt and shame. And it doesn't actually fix anything. Most of his actions fueled by guilt or wanting to Repent don't actually do anything good. It partly stopped his whole murder crusade but tbh. There was also other things going on, less just Jon Guilt and more so Jon actually reflecting. It's almost like actually reevaluating your shit is more effective than self punishing. Guilt is so deeply rooted in every aspect of his actions throughout the series and it doesn't make him kinder most of the time. If anything it makes him more bitter and impulsive. But he can't afford to let go of his guilt less he starts just letting himself hurt everyone near him, but it was never actually the guilt that stopped him. He only really started stopping himself from doing shit out of compassion and care for the few people he had left. Guilt never stopped him, but he never let go because he Needed it to stop him from doing worse. But it wasn't the shame that had stopped him, he'd been ashamed his whole life and it actively made him worse. What did stop him in the end was the one person he had left being so furious at him but staying with him anyway, because he loved him.

Also I have Big Feelings about Jon and Helen's relationship and how Jon giving up on Helen was when he gave up on himself but that is a topic for another day. Jonathan Sims the man that you are. Boy why are you so guilt.

[bread-wizards]

I think that Orym actually does doubt Imogen, but this isn't a thing that is unique to Imogen. Orym doubts all of them to an extent, because paranoia is something he struggles with (and this is continuously reinforced by the story).

It's not a 'good' thing that he should never get over, nor is it an immoral character flaw that proves he actually hates Imogen. However it's also not something I think he can get over as long as the threat of having to possibly fight his friends exists.

"I have all the faith in the world in you guys, all of you. And I have also spent time thinking how to neutralize each of you."

[angelsdean]

ruthlessly deleting old 2021/2022 posts (not by me) from my dean studies tag like *click* un-incorporating that from my beliefs system! also the way SO many posts have me like ok uh-huh good aaand then say one completely wrong thing that loses me. it's so many posts.

[shivasdarknight]

one of the things that gets me about fanon lens - especially when you entrench yourself so much in a fan version of a character - is how a character can just slowly be stripped of what they are and who they are because of the self referential nature of fanworks (which isn't inherently bad, don't misunderstand; neglected characters can have new life breathed into them)

which is a long way of getting to: where did people get the idea that estinien's not one to talk, or is bad at effectively talking? I don't mean selectively mute hcs, i mean just very curt. like he's not as flowery as many of the scions or even compared to aymeric, but he's still dramatic and talks a lot. he's precise when he needs to be and extremely blunt, but just because of that doesn't mean he won't ramble

like his whole tangent about where he is today because of the wol right before the Dead Ends in Ultima Thule. his chattiness seems to fluctuate with how comfortable he is with someone, so i'm not really sure where "estinien's bad with words" came from?

he's no politician, but he's good at saying what needs to be said and saying it in a way that matters. yes, there is the whole aymeric thing but avoiding a difficult conversation rooted in guilt isn't the same as being bad at talking. he clearly knows how to get to people - especially to antagonize them into action (see: tiamat, azdaja) - so where did this come from?

[navree]

in terms of how pervasive the fanon perception of tim drake as this neglected/borderline abused child of the horrific drake parents who are the worst human beings to ever live, i think it largely comes from the fact that i would bet money that 90% of the people perpetuating it just didn't have two parents who both worked.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

"Meg, are you hurt?"

"Shut up."

I'm just. Obsessed with them.