#but fear not! for he has been saved just in time and will be getting the help he needs

[zepskies]

Ooooh I'M so excited to see what you thought of the ATW finale!

Lol aww you remembered!! ❤️‍🔥 I've legit had this scene for this story in my head since that convo! But you're too kind to me, friend, thank you so very much. 🥹🥹 This is a lot shorter than how long my usual series run, so I feared it was a bit rushed, but I'm so glad you've enjoyed the ride. 💕

And yes, I did steal your other Ross gif! 🤣

There's legit a Friends gif for everything.~

Such a strong and hot start, wow! 🫠🔥 Full honesty, as a writer, starting chapters with smut always freaks me tf out. Like, where do you put the damn "keep reading" line without flashing some innocent people at work 😂

We're starting off with a bang! 😝 (Sorry, even I hate my self for that pun.)

Oh God, yeah. How do I include a hook to get people to read this chapter while keeping the steamy stuff under the cut? 🤣🤣

Ooof, I know the exact feeling you're describing here. Kinda like when you're taking a hot bath but the room is cold and so everything not covered by water is freezing... 😅

Yes exactly! The kind of cold that just exists in the air like a frigid blanket. 🥶

Oh, here we go! Executed to perfection 😏

Ahaha thank you, my lovely. 😏❤️‍🔥

First of all, I was just reading this whole, intensely scorching scene with a thundering heart and squeezing my damn thighs hard 😂 Secondly, I loooove this trope! It's sorta romantic?! Idk 😅🤷‍♀️ Kinda gives "waiting for the right one and not in the mood for anyone else" vibes. I did that kinda with Russell recently lol But I love the extra intensity and specialness it gives, y'know? ❤️‍🔥

omg I love that trope too (clearly lol)! Yes that's exactly it on it being actually romantic -- and if you mean on Part 3 of Exit Strategy than I'm even more excited to read that chapter when I get a chance -- hopefully later this week! 😍 I'm loving how you're writing Russell. 💗

But yes I agree it adds an extra spark here imo, knowing Dean has been unintentially "saving himself" for her lmaoo.

Loved the callback of him hearing her again, although his instincts had taken over. It shows how much he cares about her and respects her 💕 And I truly wonder what Sam will say when Dean comes back with a mate lol

Aww that's exactly what I intended as well! He's not so far gone that he doesn't consider her and what she wants (with him). 💕

You know what, a few people have requested seeing an epilogue of some kind where Sam gets to meet the reader and she gets to meet him and Dean Jr., so I may have to sketch something soon for my next little project. 🥰

Lol I was gonna say, "How long do you guys plan on being here? This might take a while" 😂 But I'm so in love with their little afterglow bonding session ❤️❤️❤️ I honestly could read about their convos forever. They're so cute 🥹

Lolll right? They could be here for a week just going over the past 15 seasons. 😂 But they have to start somewhere, right? John's journal can only cover so much. And I wanted Dean to start expressing himself to her in words and start to open up to her in a way he hasn't done for anyone in years.

Aww I'm so glad that you love them together! 💗 In this story I found that the small moments and day-to-day convos between these two were just as important as the bigger action/dramatic moments.

We've already talked about this when he mentioned Dean jr. the first time, but my headcanon is, too, that Dean would be super happy, incredibly sad and lonely, and definitely a little envious and sour lol 😂😂

Ugh that's exactly it, poor baby. 😭 A perfect description of Dean post S15 here (gotta add envious and sour lmao).

You really nailed him here! I could hear every word out of his mouth, too!! 😂🫶

Omg thank you!! I feel like Dean's the one I can hear most clearly in my head when I write for him. 😂😂

Can totally seeing him doing all of that and arguing with her throughout lol Our hero 🥹💚

Oh absolutely. These two would probably be driving each other crazy while still being crazy in love with one another -- bickering all down the mountain. 🙄😂

(Dean grumbling, trying to stamp down his smile: "Shoulda left you for the damn bear.")

Oooh, I completely forgot she doesn't yet!! Aww, she loved him before she knew he had a cool car. This is like finding out he was a millionaire and kept it a secret to find true love and weed out the gold diggers 🤣

Bahahaa I LOVE that comparison. 🤣 I just imagined him pulling up like--

This had me DEAD 🤣🤣🤣

lmfaoooo I meannnn, is he wrong? 😂😂

A year???? Jesus fuck, this is even sadder now!!! Sam was really like, "Ciao, jerk." lol

Yeeeeah maybe this is something I'll explore if/when I write that epilogue, but Sam really is off having his new life. Granted, in my mind he reaches out to Dean to check in, invite him over, etc., but even though Dean's happy for him, it's hard to be around Sam's life when Dean himself feels so aimless (and kind of empty inside). So he probably did a lot of the "staying away" in the situation. 💙

Oh she's about to find out how much 😂😂💚

Oh she's about to find out a lot of things about her man that she never thought possible. 🤣🤣

("You've died HOW many times?!!")

That was such a perfect ending! They literally drove off into the sunset together *swoon* 😍🫠🫶 (And I could totally see Dean singing along to the lyrics at the end there) I seriously enjoyed this series so much, friend!! 🤍🤍🤍 Totally gave me those vibes 🥹💕:

Aww thank you so, so much, Wayne!! 💕💕 They really did have their Hallmark movie moment lol. (Oh, he SO would be singing along -- loudly! lol)

omggg I'm honestly honored that it gave you Mondler vibes. 🥹 I always loved them more than Ross/Rachel tbh, so that's literally the best compliment ever. 💗

Thank you again so much for reading and always brightening my day right up with your wonderful, insightful, hilarious comments on my writing, friend. 💞

Against the Wind - Part 4

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: The grand finale...

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, knotting, claiming, fluff and feels.

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 4: Running to Live

His cold hands are warming on your skin as he slides them underneath your sweater. They move smoothly up your back, bunching up the material. You break from his kiss only to help him get the sweater off you, followed closely by his pants.

Your sweatpants slide down your legs with just a sharp tug, baring most of your body to his gaze. His eyes drag over your exposed neck and shoulders, your breasts cupped in your bra, down to your panties and bare thighs.

A shiver runs through you, both from his heated gaze, and from being exposed to the cooler air. Even with the fire going and the heater running in the cabin, the frigid air outside is unforgiving.

You have no problem with the way Dean guides you down from the chaise to take advantage of your nest on the floor, right in front of the fire. He draws you into a sensuous kiss, sucking your lower lip into his mouth and grazing with teeth.

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return. You reach up to caress his cheek, feeling the prickling of his stubble. Your fingers thread into his hair, and you pull him back down for a devouring kiss.

Dean’s brows furrow as he holds you to him, wanting to feel every part of your skin against his. His calloused fingers map their way down your side, and across your back to unhook your bra. His lips veer away from yours to burn a wet, heated trail along your neck. His teeth come out to graze your skin, down your throat, down the lovely valley between your breasts.

“Dean,” you gasp, encouraging him when his hand cups one of your breasts. He explores the other with his mouth, teasing a pebbled nipple with his tongue. Your fingers tighten in his hair, your thighs rubbing together between the cage of his knees in the mess of blankets. Already you feel slick forming at the apex of your thighs and slipping down in between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “Fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You can’t help but smile. Your face warms either from the fire dancing shadows across your bodies, or from him, his attention, his warmth, and the heat in his eyes when they meet your again. His hand slides down your body, over your hip and squeezing your thigh as he opens you up further for him.

“Tell me what you want, Omega.” While I still have control, his tone implies. His voice is gravel and sin while his hand moves swiftly and smoothly up the inside of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you breathe.

Nodding, he hooks his fingers around the hem of your panties and slides them down. You help him kick them off. Afterward, his thumb brushes over your mound, making you sharply inhale and squeeze his shoulders encouragingly. His fingers dip inside your wet heat, his brows raising with a smirk, as he feels the sheer amount of your slick already coating his digits.

“Fuck. This all for me, baby?” he remarks.

You hold onto the back of his neck with both hands as you nod, biting your lip. Your hips begin to cant against his hand on reflex, urging him to touch you.

“Alpha, please…” you implore, in a ragged whisper. He swallows your plea with a ravaging kiss, but he still gives you what you want. His thumb circles your clit, earning a moan from you into his mouth.

Soon, two of his fingers plunge slowly inside you, working you open, drawing more gasps and shudders of pleasure from your body. His length continues to strain hard against your thigh, but for him, it’s worth it to draw every sound, every time your body writhes and arches against him, craving release.

With a few more purposeful strokes, your inner walls clamp tight on his hand, and a flood of slick coats his knuckles even more. You gasp his name, your hands squeezing his arms just as tight as your pussy around his fingers.

Your skin is beginning to get dewy with sweat, and he kisses some of it off you when he trails down your chest. You stroke down his arms, down his back, whatever you can reach as you catch your breath. But then, his name falls from your lips with a firmer tone.

Dean raises his head, and you gently push at his chest. His brows furrow in confusion, only for it to be replaced with a smile of surprise when you curl a thigh over his hip and guide him onto his back. His head just manages to fall on one of your pillows, but he still utters a small grunt. You giggle down at him, bowing to meet him for a kiss.

He smirks and holds onto your hips, playfully squeezing your ass. “My wily omega.”

“Thought I was your cheeky omega,” you tease.

He snorts. “That too.”

You giggle some more as you treat him to the same path of open-mouthed kisses down his neck. Except this time, you hook a hand behind his neck, and you trail your tongue around his mating gland. You feel his jolt of surprise, as well as his instinctive growl of pleasure in response to his mate. Or at least, not yet…

His heart pounds in his chest.

“Omega,” he says, a warning not to tease as his grip tightens on your hips.

The command in his voice makes you shiver, but you smile and nuzzle his cheek in affection. You kiss your way down his body, playing special attention to his nipples, his stomach, the soft V and the happy trail of light brown fuzz leading you down between his hips.

Your fingers slide down his hardened desire through his underwear, earning a grunt from him, along with a shifting of his body against the blankets. Your lips curve as you nuzzle him there as well, letting your lips drag across his impressive length.

His fingers tangle in your hair when you hook your nails around the waistband and free his cock from its confines. His boxers join the rest of your clothes somewhere, and finally you get to see all of him, as much as he takes in all of you. Your hand wraps around his girth, your thumb circling around the sensitive, weeping head of it. Dean groans, a sound from deep in his chest.

You don’t know this, but it’s been a while since anyone but his own hand has touched him. That’s not the only reason his body has been calling to yours, but it plays a part in how fucking good it feels, and how much more he wants you.

He feels your intentions when your hand moves down his shaft in a teasing caress, your fingers tracing around his knot. A shudder rattles down his spine, makes his desire burn hotter in the pit of his stomach.

He can’t fucking take it anymore. He needs you, needs to be inside you. Needs to take you the way his instincts demand.

He grasps your shoulder before you put your mouth on him. You blink up at him, with a question forming on your lips, but he hefts you up onto his chest by your arms. He cages you there with a kiss filled with abject need.

“I can’t. Can’t wait anymore,” he says. He drags his fingers through your folds and earns another moan from your when he finds your clit. “You ready for me, Omega? Need my knot?”

“Yeah,” you nod, agreeing against his lips. “Need you, Alpha—”

No sooner had the words escaped your lips, when Dean rolls you back underneath him. But this time, he guides you onto your stomach, then raises up your hips, until you’re on your hands and knees. You catch your breath as you regain your bearings, shooting an incredulous smile over your shoulder at Dean. He smirks back at you, but his gaze is intense, his pupils darkened with the alpha inside him. 

Still, he soothes a hand down your back and steadies you with a hold on your hip. You feel him slot himself behind you, guiding his cock at your entrance. His chest presses hotly against your back.

“Last chance, Omega,” he says, his voice tight with restraint.

You look back at him again over your shoulder, your mouth threatening to frown. You reach back and sink your fingers into his hair with a sharp tug. “Do it.”

He sinks into you with one smooth plunge. It’s a relief for both of you, your mingled moans echoing in the near silence. All that’s left is the sound of your quickening breaths, of skin against sweat-slick skin as you move together.

Dean brushes your hair away from your neck. He kisses and licks his way along your bare shoulder, and finally the back of your neck. You’re trembling by the time his lips find the sensitive flesh of your mating gland. It echoes with the pulsing from your core as he continues to drive into you.

“Alpha,” you gasp on reflex. You squeeze his arm; he has it wrapped tight around your middle. Your pleasure builds ever closer to that crescendo, especially as his thrusts become ragged, at an angle that zips delicious tingles through your core. “Close…just…I need…”

Dean isn’t so far gone. He hears you, and helps you, reaching his hand around to strum his fingers insistently on your clit, along with his final thrusts.

Finally, it tumbles you over. Your inner walls become impossibly tight around him as he draws out your second release—one that triggers his own. Dean groans into your ear; his knot swells and locks into place, and he spends himself deep inside you. He pants hot against your neck, but even though he fastens his lips there, he hesitates, once again making you shudder. 

“Do it,” you repeat, in a coarse whisper. You’re close to tears. “Please. Want you, Alpha. Need you…”

Once again, he hears you.

His teeth sink into the back of your neck, making you cry out. But your pain is quickly overshadowed by a deepest pleasure, thrumming along with his.

 Afterward, Dean holds you in his arms. The warm glow of the fire paints your skin in its light, despite the utter darkness in the rest of the house. 

While you both wait for his knot to subside, you revel in the fact that you know he’s content. You can feel it through the newly formed bond. He traces random shapes in your skin, which still glistens with a fine sheen of sweat. The fire he stoked doesn’t help to cool you down, but you don’t care.

Nothing else matters but this. You turn your head toward him over your shoulder. He meets you there with a gentle kiss, much more gentle than any other you’ve shared before. It feels right. 

When he parts from you, he presses another kiss to your forehead. Then he leans back a little and sighs. You feel his thumb trace the raw flesh around the claiming mark on your neck. A small shiver runs through your body. Maybe on another day, you’ll mark him in return.

“It’s too damn late,” he says, breaking the silence. “You realize that right?”

You shoot him a frown. “Too late for what?”

“For me to let you go,” he says. 

His words both warm you and make you sad. Just how little does he think of himself?

“Dean,” you say, endeavoring to be patient. “You’re my true mate. Do you know how rare it is that we’ve actually found each other?”

Dean remains quiet.

“And after everything you’ve done for me,” you add, “how can I not think you’re a good man? How can I not think this is right?”

He seems to consider your question. His gaze briefly falls, then meets your eyes again.

“You don’t know me that well,” is his answer, with a wry turn of his lips. 

You reach back to caress his cheek. “Then tell me. Tell me about, um…tell me about how you became a hunter. From your dad’s journal, I got the sense that it’s a family thing.”

A vendetta, you wanted to say, but you keep that thought inside.

Dean chuckles, dropping another kiss onto your shoulder. You feel the pleasurable rasp of his stubble.

“Yeah, more like a family business,” he says. 

He tells you why John Winchester started writing in that journal in the first place. Dean explains it in his own words, of what his family was before and after a demon broke into his brother’s nursery. Your heart continues to break for him, over and over, the more story he tells. Your shock can only reach new heights when he tells you about angels and demons and everything in between. 

There are moments where he pauses, needing the time to find his words. He’s talked for so long that his knot finally softens, allowing you to withdraw from him, just to turn in his arms and be able to see his face. He bundles you in the blankets to keep you warm, but he also keeps you close, with a loose arm around your waist as he continues. 

You sense that he’s not telling you everything. How could he? A lifetime of blood and wins and incredible losses; family gained, and family lost, endless saves, and so many near misses. You listen with rapt attention (and a lot of shock) to everything he can share, but your heart twinges when you see how he struggles to talk about his mother’s most recent death. Then his best friend Cas. 

You realize that this man, for all his self-deprecation, is a hero. More so than you already knew.

“After the whole Chuck thing was done, I thought we’d just…go back to status quo. Me and Sam against the world, you know?” Dean says. He gives a rueful smile. “Then Sammy tells me he knocked up his mate.”

You smile. “You’re happy for him though.”

“Course I am,” Dean nods. “He never thought he’d get to have all that. A badass chick who can keep him on his toes, a house, the kid, the whole damn thing. He’s downright respectable again.”

His brotherly pride and his humor are tinged with something else though. You think you begin to understand. His losses have weighed him down, leaving him aimless and living in that in between, not unlike the ghosts he used to hunt. You know the feeling. 

You thread your fingers with his, earning his attention. 

“You can have that too, you know,” you say. “I mean, I don’t want to skip ahead, but I feel like things are going well here, despite the whole busted ankle thing.” 

Dean slowly smiles, shaking his head. He brings your hand up to his lips. 

“Okay, enough about my Hallmark movie life. What about you?” he asks. 

So you tell him. 

You two continue to share and explore, both in words and with your bodies, until morning comes. 

It’s another week in the cabin before Dean insists on helping you down the mountain. Your ankle has gotten a little better, but at this point, you need to see a doctor. It takes a couple of days, going as slow as you need to. He ends up carrying you for most of the way anyway. You tell him over and over that he doesn’t have to, but your alpha is stubborn. 

Once he gets you back to the city, you two take a shuttle to the nearest hospital. X-rays are taken, and you get a new cast for your officially fractured ankle. At the very least, you don’t need surgery. You’re able to call your mom from there and let her know where you’ve been, that you’re all right, and best of all…that you’ve found your mate. 

You cry along with her on the phone, this time for a good reason. The best reason. 

When you’re eventually released from the hospital, Dean picks you up in a sleek, black Chevy that has your eyes wide. 

He grins at the look on your face. “Hey, sweetheart. Come meet my Baby.” 

He parks the car and keeps the heater running while he comes around to you in swift strides. He takes your crutches and slides them into the backseat, then helps you into the passenger seat. 

“It’s beautiful, but my God, how old is this thing?”

“She. She’s a she.”

“Oh, pardon me,” you say in amusement. “Do I have some competition here?”

Dean gives you a teasing smirk. “Well, technically, she’s been with me a lot longer than you.” 

You scoff incredulously. He laughs and takes your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm. You discreetly study him and marvel at how much lighter he seems. You don’t know how much is because of this, what your hand in his symbolizes, and how much is because he’s reunited with something important to him. 

“It’s okay, Omega mine,” he says, with a measure of desire in his eyes. “From now on, you’re my priority.”

Your spine prickles with the same arousal you can feel from him through the bond. You lean across the way and share a thorough kiss. 

Until a horn honks loudly from behind. You both jolt, but Dean’s face falls into annoyance. He shoots up a choice finger at the car behind him in the rearview mirror. You laugh as he begins to peel out of the curved pick-up and drop-off zone in front of the hospital. 

“Where are we going, Dean?” you ask, still smiling in amusement. 

“Wherever we damn well please.” He turns to you with a hint of a smile reforming on his lips. “Want me to take you back home? We can sort out the logistics on, uh…well, this.”

You think about it. He poses a good idea, but at the same time, you’re not quite ready for this part of the adventure to end. 

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Sam?” you ask.

Dean blinks at your question. He whistles lowly. “About a year. Jesus, since my nephew was born.”

You smile and reach over, resting your hand on his thigh. 

“Let’s go see him, then,” you say. “I want to meet your family. Then you can meet mine.”

After that, you two can figure out the rest, like where to live, and how you’ll live. 

Dean raises a brow. “Really? That’s like, a thirteen-hour drive.”

You shrug. “I’ve always wanted to go on a real road trip. Can we get some food first though? I’m starving.” 

He laughs and nods as he stops the car at a red light.

“What do you know? A woman after my own heart,” he says. His amusement eases into a gentler smile the longer he stares at you. You smile back, and you give into the urge to lean in again, meeting your lips with his. He brushes your cheek tenderly with his thumb. 

“I know what this needs,” he says lowly. Your brows draw together in a silent question. 

He pulls away to reach into the side compartment along the driver door. He fishes out a cassette tape labelled Zeppelin IV. You bite your lip and try not to say anything smartassed.

Damn, this man is old school. 

He skips ahead until he finds Track 7, just as the light turns green. A melodious guitar riff fills the car as he turns onto the main road with your hand wrapped in his. 

Made up my mind to make a new start.

Going to California with an aching in my heart…

AN: And that's all, folks! 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed Against the Wind!

Like I said in a recent update, I have more stories in store for you guys. January 3 will be Part 1 of Outlander -- sequel to The Honorable Choice -- a Western AU with Dean as our resident cowboy! I'll post a sneak peek on that one soon.~

But in the meantime, I hope you'll let me know what you thought of ATW! 💜💜

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Series Masterlist

Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist 

Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story or chapter. 💜

Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1)

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@thebiggerbear @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @deans-spinster-witch

@deans-baby-momma @sanscas @kaleldobrev @spnwoman @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@globetrotter28 @adoringanakin @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @iprobablyshipit91

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @pieandmonsters

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @chernayawidow @mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @mxltifxnd0m

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @samslvrgirl @tortureddarkstar

@tmb510 @syrma-sensei @artemys-ackles @malindacath @mrsjenniferwinchester

@jc-winchester @charmed-asylum @fromcaintodean

[hollowed-theory-hall]

why dudley redemption it makes a lot of sense to me in the second book we know he cares enough to remember what Harry's birthday is. yes he uses this as a chance to mock him but he knows it regardless. He also changes drastically after the dementors my favorite theory is because it shows him himself the raw and ugly selfish person he is and that is terrible enough to cause change

(Referring to this post)

Yeah, Dudley's redemption makes sense because he was a child, and he learned, and he improved. And yes, him remembering Harry's birthday is a sign of care, roundabout as it is.

What I find fun about Dudley's redemption is how terrified of magic he is. Like, his parents teach him to be scared of magic and hate it. And, I mean, he was harmed by magic multiple times:

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, “NEVER — ” he thundered, “— INSULT — ALBUS — DUMBLEDORE He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig’s tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

(PS)

Harry wheeled around. Dudley was no longer standing behind his parents. He was kneeling beside the coffee table, and he was gagging and sputtering on a foot-long, purple, slimy thing that was protruding from his mouth. One bewildered second later, Harry realized that the foot-long thing was Dudley’s tongue — and that a brightly colored toffee wrapper lay on the floor before him. Aunt Petunia hurled herself onto the ground beside Dudley, seized the end of his swollen tongue, and attempted to wrench it out of his mouth; unsurprisingly, Dudley yelled and sputtered worse than ever, trying to fight her off. Uncle Vernon was bellowing and waving his arms around, and Mr. Weasley had to shout to make himself heard.

(GoF)

He could not believe what had just happened. Dementors here, in Little Whinging . . . Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking.

(OotP)

And yet, he's never really scared of Harry and actually grows to have respect for Harry after he saves him from the dementors. I just really like that for all his fear of magic. He doesn't fear Harry. Not really.

And, we see his position on Harry change, he has his own subtle little arc of realising his parents are full of shit:

“Er — no, they don’t,” said Harry. “They think I’m a waste of space, actually, but I’m used to — ” “I don’t think you’re a waste of space.” If Harry had not seen Dudley’s lips move, he might not have believed it. As it was, he stared at Dudley for several seconds before accepting that it must have been his cousin who had spoken; for one thing, Dudley had turned red. Harry was embarrassed and astonished himself.

(DH)

And when Dumbledore calls Vernon and Petunia out in HBP (quite late, on his part), Harry assumes Dudley is stupid:

Dudley was frowning slightly, as though he was still trying to work out when he had ever been mistreated. Uncle Vernon looked as though he had something stuck in his throat; Aunt Petunia, however, was oddly flushed.

(HBP)

But I think Dudley was actually considering Dumbledore's words here and taking them to heart. I think he frowned because he was actually thinking about it. Becouse he got what Dumbledore meant.

I can't really get behind that theory for what Dudley saw, personally. I don't think that's the case since it's not the sort of thing we know other characters (Harry) see. Dementors make you relive your worst memories (his parents' death and later the graveyard, in Harry's case), not the thing you need to see for your character development.

I don't know what Dudley saw, but I'm sure he saw a specific moment, a memory that was his worst moment. The moment he, himself suffered the most. I consider the situation with the tongue-swelling toffee or any of the other times Dudley suffered at the hands of magic to be likely candidates. So, no, I don't think Dudley improved because of what the dementors showed him. I think his character development happened because Harry bothered to save him. Harry acted in a way that contradicted everything Dudley's parents said about him and his magic. Harry used his magic to save Dudley. And I think that was the fact that really set Dudley on his small arc.

That moment proved to Dudley that Harry was an inherently good person and that magic could be used to save lives (his life). It basically gave Dudley undeniable proof his parents lied to him.

I mean, Dudley makes it clear Harry's actions of saving his life were a big deal for him:

“Well . . . er . . . thanks, Dudley.” Again, Dudley appeared to grapple with thoughts too unwieldy for expression before mumbling, “You saved my life.”

(DH)

So I belive that was the source of his arc.

And I think it's interesting. Like, I won't say Dudley is a character I particularly like, but I understand him, and I think he has a small redemption. Like, I can't see post-books Harry being super close to Dudley, but I like to think they chose to meet up again and try to have some familial connection. Not anything super close, but, it would be something, yk?

I also think an adult Dudley would not be very close to his parents. Like, he'd see them for holidays and stuff, but these meetings would always be tense, especially when he brings up the question of why Harry isn't there as he did in DH:

“Why isn’t he coming with us?” Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia froze where they stood, staring at Dudley as though he had just expressed a desire to become a ballerina. “What?” said Uncle Vernon loudly. “Why isn’t he coming too?” asked Dudley [...] They heard the front door open, but Dudley did not move and after a few faltering steps Aunt Petunia stopped too. “What now?” barked Uncle Vernon, reappearing in the doorway. It seems that Dudley was struggling with concepts too difficult to put into words. After several moments of apparently painful internal struggle he said, “But where’s he going to go?” Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked at each other. It was clear that Dudley was frightening them. Hestia Jones broke the silence.

(DH)

It makes sense to me, at least that Dudley's relationship with his parents would go more strained and that he'll try to keep in touch with Harry. That he'd feel like he needs to and eventually they'll get along well enough. Again, I don't think Harry and Dudley would ever be super close, but it would be something.

[ughtyrell]

Jayce is sent back in time to when the councilors argue about Zaun's independence and Jayce just wants to get his partner out of there

Jayce felt himself let out a gasp, the kind when you've just woken up from a nightmare. Glancing around he realizes he's in the council room. The councilors still raging over Zaun's independence. He knows they'll agree but then it wouldn't matter anyhow because half of them would perish a minute later.

"Jayce?"

It felt like Jayces heart would stop, that voice, that beautiful voice. To his side is Viktor, beautiful, perfect and flawed, whole Viktor who is staring at him in concern. The only one who heard his gasp and is noticing his panic at the moment. Right. The whole reason he's here right now.

"Viktor we need to go." Standing up and facing Viktor, ready to lead him away immediately. Except Viktor is looking at him in disbelief and the beginning of anger.

"The peace agreement Jayce." He says as if that will matter when he's dead. He's going to die. No! That's why Jayce is here. To change that. Then Jayce wouldn't need to merge him with the hexcore. He wouldn't become the Herald. He wouldn't be a lonely mage at the end of the world. All would be different if he can just get Viktor out of here now.

"Viktor I have a really bad feeling. We need to leave. Now."

Jayce hears the councilors quieting over his strange behavior, Mel saying his name in question. He doesn't care, the only one who matters he's already looking at. His partner who seems like he's going to fight Jayce about this. Something Jayce missed about Viktor. His attitude and willingness to use his sharp tongue as a weapon. He'll let Viktor yell as much as he wants later.

"Please. You trust me right. Never mind it doesn't matter." Too much time has already been wasted. Viktor will hate him for it but Jayce is going to scoop him up and run.

And he does. Voices around him raise and demand to know what he's doing? To stop this nonsense! None louder than Viktor who looks like he wants to bodily harm Jayce at this very moment. Jayce hears Viktors cane hit the ground but there's no going back for it even as Viktor yells about that too.

"I'll make you a new one! Please I just have a horrible feeling, we need to go Viktor!" Something in Jayces voice or expression must get through Viktors outrage, some of Jayces desperation and fear because he stops trying to fight his way out of the hold he's in. Making it so much easier to run with him.

How much time left? Jayce can't think. They need to get at least one floor down. More would be better but no matter what Jayce will use his own body to cover and protect Viktor if needed.

This is inspired from a fic I read but can't find for the life of me to credit. I searched 7 pages of my ao3 history. I wonder if they deleted it. That one ends differently. I just really wanted to write Jayce picking up Viktor and getting tf outta there asap. No time to bicker and fight ur boy Jayce, just run ! He can hit you with his newly made cane you gift him later!

Anyways these guys totally survive, Jayce takes them like two floors down, are in a landing of the stairwell where he stumbles and drops Viktor when everything starts to shake but makes sure to cover him from any danger. They are A-OK tho, not a scratch. Only Jayces wounded pride and guilt that he dropped Viktor. He probably teared up about it and Viktor tried to be comforting because Jayce did just save his life. But that sentiment only goes so far when he thinks Jayce is just being dumb.

[aspenmissing]

Hello :D Can I request a Silco x fem!Reader in the scene where Vander is drowning Silco and after Vander leaves she runs to the water and helps him out and like drags him to shore and has to wake him up? Super super angsty but eventually Silco wakes up and they like swear to get vengeance on Vander? Tyyy 🫶🫶🫶🫶

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ/ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ? || 2865 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴɪɴɢ, ᴄᴘʀ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ɪɴꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ (ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇᴅ, ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟ?)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴘʀɪɴᴋʟᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀᴛɪꜱᴇᴅ ᴍᴀɴ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ

The water was murky, thick with the residue of violence, and Silco's body felt as though it were sinking into it, weighted by the blood loss from the wound in his arm. His vision blurred, every breath a struggle, each one shallow as Vander’s grip tightened around his throat, forcing the life out of him. His lungs screamed for air, but Vander’s unrelenting strength crushed his windpipe, cutting off the oxygen. The pain in his chest was unbearable, and his legs kicked weakly beneath the surface, trying to keep him from drowning. The world around him grew distant, as though he were floating outside of his own body, powerless to stop the inevitable.

The sharp, fiery sting in his arm was the last flicker of hope that surged through him—his knife. His fingers, slick with blood, grasped for the handle. With what little strength he could summon, he stabbed upwards, plunging the blade deep into Vander’s arm. The impact caused Vander to recoil, momentarily releasing his hold, just enough for Silco to gasp, a strangled breath escaping his lips before the cold water pulled him under again.

It wasn’t enough. The darkness was coming for him.

But in the haze of unconsciousness, just before he could surrender completely to it, he felt a pull. A hand grasping his wrist, strong, steady, and urgent— pulling him upwards with a force that startled him from his foggy daze.

His body, too weak to resist, was lifted from the depths of the river, the cool water no longer enveloping him. His chest burned, his limbs heavy, but the grip around his wrist refused to let go. The faintest image of Y/N materialised through his blurred vision—her face, determined, filled with the fire he’d come to recognise so well. She was pulling him toward safety, her strength a comforting contrast to the helplessness that threatened to consume him.

"Y/N…" His voice was faint, like a fragile whisper, the words not even reaching her ears. It didn’t matter. He didn’t have the strength to keep fighting.

With her hands trembling and her heart pounding, Y/N dragged him toward the shore, each movement frantic, as though time were slipping away. Her breath was erratic, her hands shaking with fear and urgency as she pulled him onto solid ground, her desperation palpable in the way she moved.

He was unresponsive, limp in her arms, his skin pale and his breath ragged. Panic began to claw at her chest, threatening to tear her apart, but she couldn’t—no, she wouldn’t—let him slip away. Not like this.

"No, no, no!" Y/N gasped, her hands trembling as they slapped against Silco’s damp face, trying to rouse him. His skin was cold, his pulse faint, and the terror in her chest bloomed, suffocating.

"Silco, please!" Her voice cracked, desperate, almost pleading. "Don’t do this. You promised you wouldn’t leave me... Don’t you dare leave me, not now. Not after everything we’ve been through."

She positioned herself above him, pushing herself into him with all the urgency of someone who couldn’t let go. The pressure of his chest beneath her hands seemed to crush her own heart. She had to save him. She didn’t know how, but she had to.

“Come on, Silco… please… please, don’t leave me. I need you…”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away, focusing on the task at hand. She pressed her lips to his, forcing air into his lungs, giving him what little strength she had left. Her hands moved in rhythm, desperate, trying to revive him. The panic in her veins burned, her body screaming at her to stop, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Not until he woke up.

His chest didn’t rise. His body lay still, and her heart dropped deeper into her stomach with every failed breath.

"Silco, please... don’t do this to me…" Her voice trembled, a raw cry slipping from her lips. She pressed her palms harder into his chest, the rhythmic motion of CPR becoming automatic, her own body weakening with each pump. She could feel the exhaustion creeping up on her, but she ignored it, her focus unwavering. She couldn’t give up. Not now. Not with him.

And then, when she thought she might collapse from the strain, there it was—an inhale. A violent, gasping breath that shot through him, water spilling from his mouth in a torrent. Silco coughed, choking on the water that had filled his lungs, his body shaking with the effort to expel it.

Y/N’s arms wrapped around him immediately, pulling him into her chest as if he were the most precious thing in the world. Her fingers cradled his face, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead, her heartbeat a steady thrum in the silence that followed.

He coughed again, his grip around her tightening, his fingers digging into her skin as though he were anchoring himself to her. His breath was still ragged, his chest heaving, but the life was back in him, and that was enough for Y/N. Her heart swelled with relief, but there was still something in her eyes—something fierce. Something unforgiving.

“You’re alright,” she murmured, her voice softer now, a gentle promise in the midst of the storm. “You’re safe now.”

Silco’s eyes fluttered, barely open, and the roughness of his voice broke through the fog in his mind. “Y/N…”

The whisper of his name felt like a balm to her frayed nerves. She leaned in, pressing her forehead to his, her fingers tenderly stroking his jaw.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said, the words meant more for herself than him. She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, but it was clear he was too weak to speak for himself.

But she couldn’t help it. The question slipped from her lips, even though she feared the answer. “What happened, Silco? What did Vander—?”

Silco’s face tightened, and the moment of peace shattered. His eyes clenched shut, pain resurfacing. He drew in a jagged breath before his voice came through, barely more than a strained rasp.

“Vander… he—he nearly killed me.” His chest shuddered with the admission, his body too weak to support the weight of his words, but there was a bitter finality in his tone.

Y/N’s heart burned with the knowledge of what Vander had done—what he’d tried to do—and her grip on Silco tightened. Her jaw clenched, fury radiating off her in waves.

“No…” she whispered, though the word felt too small to contain the depth of her fury. “Then we’ll make him pay. I swear it. I’ll make him pay for this. I’ll make sure he never does this again.”

The fire in her voice was unmistakable, and despite his weakened state, Silco could feel the conviction in her words. He knew she meant every syllable. Her hands held him steady, cradling him with an intensity that conveyed not just care, but a promise of vengeance.

Silco managed a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching upward, though his eyes remained heavy with exhaustion. “I know… I know you will. We both will”

As Y/N held Silco close, the steady rhythm of his breath beneath her hands allowed her a fleeting moment of relief. The world around her, once filled with chaos and fear, softened as she realised that he was alive, breathing—safe for now. But there was still the weight of everything that had just happened pressing down on her. She couldn’t let her guard down yet, not entirely.

Her fingers moved instinctively, tracing the outline of his face, making sure he was really there. But as her hand brushed past his temple, she felt the telltale dampness of the cut around his eye. It had been a brutal blow, but what struck her next was the heat radiating from the wound, a sickly warmth that made her stomach turn.

She gently cupped his face, bringing his damaged eye into her view, her heart sinking as she took in the extent of the injury. The gash, still raw from the previous fight, had been worsened by the muck and filth in the water, now infected, swollen, and oozing an unsightly mix of blood and grime. The once sharp and calculating gleam in his eye had dulled, replaced by a feverish, almost lifeless look as his eye struggled to stay open.

“No…” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling, not from fear this time, but from the crushing responsibility she now felt for him. She pressed her palm gently against his face, her thumb brushing over the infected area, the weight of it unbearable.

"Silco…" Her voice cracked slightly, and her brow furrowed in deep concern. "This needs to be treated—this is dangerous."

He blinked sluggishly, his eye fluttering beneath her touch as if he barely had the strength to keep it open. Silco’s lips parted as he tried to speak, but his words were a broken whisper, barely audible.

“It’s nothing… just a scratch.”

Y/N felt a surge of anger at his nonchalance. He had nearly died at Vander’s hands, and yet he was dismissing something that could make it worse. She couldn’t believe how careless he could be, even in such a weakened state. But she understood it—she knew the battle he’d been fighting, how he always pushed his own limits. He was stubborn, and it made her heart ache.

"No, Silco," she said firmly, her voice low but full of intensity. "This is more than just a scratch. You need to rest and get this cleaned up before it gets worse. I won’t let you suffer any longer than you already have."

Her fingers traced the contour of his face again, her eyes not leaving the wound. She could see the infection spreading, the redness now creeping further into his skin, and it sickened her that he had to endure this after everything else.

“Don’t you dare underestimate this,” she added, her voice unwavering. She gently, but firmly, took his head in her hands, tilting it slightly to get a better view of his face. "Vander’s not the only one who’ll pay for this. You are going to make it through this, Silco."

Silco’s lips parted in a faint, dry smile, the ghost of his former self flashing through as he attempted to reassure her with words that felt too small against the gravity of the moment.

"I’m not going anywhere." His voice, though weak, still carried that familiar determination, the flicker of the man who had never once been truly defeated.

Y/N, however, couldn’t shake the fear that lingered deep in her chest. This wound—this infection—could be far more dangerous than any battle they’d faced before. She wouldn’t let him slip away from her, not to something as insidious as an infection. Not when she was so close to him. Not after she had fought so hard to keep him safe.

"Stay with me," she urged softly, her voice gentler now, even though her heart was pounding. "Just stay with me, Silco."

She could feel his grip tighten on her, his fingers curling into her skin, anchoring himself to her. Despite the weakness in his body, there was a silent promise in that hold. He wasn’t ready to give up—not yet.

Y/N’s heart swelled with a strange combination of fear, relief, and unwavering determination. She wouldn’t let him go, not while he still had that fire in him, that promise in his heart. She would stand by him, and together, they would overcome this. She would find a way to fix him, to get him back to himself.

Her gaze shifted back to his infected eye, and she swallowed down the bile in her throat, brushing his damp hair back gently.

"We need to get you cleaned up," she muttered, looking around the desolate space for anything that might help. "I’ll make sure you get through this."

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to rest in her arms for just a moment longer, before his voice, though faint, returned.

"You always know what to do, Y/N..." he whispered.

Her breath caught at his words, and she nodded, her lips quivering slightly, though her resolve remained strong. "I’ll always take care of you, Silco. No matter what."

With a steadying breath, Y/N carefully helped Silco to his feet, her hands sliding beneath his arms, offering whatever strength she could to keep him upright. He was weak, his legs unsteady, but he didn’t resist—his body too tired to do anything but lean into her. She felt the weight of him, the gravity of everything he had endured, and her resolve hardened. She wasn’t going to let him fall, not again.

"Lean on me," she murmured, her voice soft but firm, her hands steadying him as his body leaned heavily against hers. "Just a little longer. We’ll get you somewhere safe."

Silco’s breath was shallow, his head still spinning, but he trusted her. He always had. His arm draped weakly around her shoulder, his fingers curling into the fabric of her clothes, a gesture of dependency that spoke louder than any words. One of Y/N’s hands gripped his arm tight, anchoring it around her as she wrapped her other arm around his waist, the tension in her body unwavering as she supported him with every step.

As they moved, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the weight in her chest—the edge of fury that gnawed at her insides. It wasn’t just worry for Silco anymore. It was hatred for what Vander had done. The older man’s actions had left a mark on Silco’s body, on his soul, and Y/N couldn’t—wouldn’t—forgive that. The thought of Vander—the man who had once been a friend to them—gnawed at her insides, twisting like a dagger. He had nearly killed Silco. Nearly taken him from her forever.

"No more," Y/N muttered under her breath, her jaw tightening. "This ends now."

She could feel Silco’s presence next to her, the weight of him leaning into her, and his breath steadied, though still ragged. His weight was more than just physical now—it was a promise. He was still here, still fighting, and she wouldn’t let his fight go to waste. She would carry him if she had to.

“Stay with me,” she urged quietly, her voice soft but filled with an undeniable command. “We’re getting you out of here.”

Her hands held him steady, one at his waist and the other clutching his arm, each step slow but deliberate. He leaned more heavily into her, but she didn’t mind—she didn’t want him to feel like he was fighting alone. As they moved, there was a shared understanding between them. He trusted her to be his anchor, and in turn, she would never let him go.

“I’m not leaving you,” she whispered again, her voice resolute as she tightened her grip on him. “Not now. Not ever.”

They reached a secluded corner where the sounds of the world seemed to fade, and Y/N eased him down onto a makeshift seat, her breath still shaky but her determination unchanged. She knelt before him, her fingers brushing his damp hair from his face, her heart breaking all over again at the sight of him—worn and broken, but still with her.

But then, her gaze shifted to the wound near his eye—the infection festering beneath the surface. A rush of frustration surged through her chest. Silco was always so stubborn, so unwilling to yield to anything, but this wound—this infection—could be the one thing that could truly break him if it wasn’t treated. She couldn’t let that happen. Not after everything.

"You need to rest for now, but I’ll clean you up as soon as I can," Y/N said, her voice steady, though her emotions threatened to rise. She tried to add her usual teasing tone, but it felt strained in the moment. She was too focused. "You’re not getting out of this that easily."

Silco didn’t reply immediately. His gaze softened as he looked at her, and for a moment, the usual sharpness in his eyes faded. Instead, there was vulnerability there—a quiet trust. His voice was hoarse, but the gratitude in it was undeniable.

"I’ll survive," he said, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. "For you."

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words. She nodded resolutely, brushing her thumb across his jawline, almost absent-mindedly as she began to prepare herself to tend to his wounds. She wouldn’t allow him to slip away—not after all they had been through.

"You’ll survive, Silco," she said firmly, her gaze never leaving his. "Because I’m not letting you go."

Her mind briefly flickered back to Vander—the man who had caused this, who had nearly taken Silco from her forever. But for now, her focus was on Silco. She had a promise to keep, and that was all that mattered. She would get revenge. Vander would pay for this.

But for now, Silco was alive, and as long as he was, Y/N wouldn’t stop.

[tiredandoptimistic]

Not to make a post about the parallels between Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Supernatural in the year of our lord 2025, but that's exactly what I'm about to do so strap in.

The similarities between Angel and Castiel's situations are kinda impossible to miss. Besides their biggest similarity (which I'll get to in a moment), both of them are introduced to the series as mysterious and morally questionable supporting characters who pop in and out giving advice before integrating into the main story and cast due to a close relationship with the protagonist. Clearer than any of that though is their shared curse: experience a moment of true happiness, and something terrible will happen. Angel will lose his soul and Castiel will get dragged to superhell. Luckily, both of them are immortal guilt machines who excel at repression, so it takes a while for either of those curses to activate. For Angel it happens after he and Buffy have sex in season two, and I think we all know the basics of Castiel's confession to Dean in season fifteen. What I think is so interesting is that both of them have "true happiness" triggered by an expression of romantic love, but they kinda fall on such opposite ends of the spectrum that they wrap around to being the same.

For Castiel, "happiness isn't in the having, it's in just being," and literally just telling Dean that he loves him is his definition of happiness, because he's letting go of his fears and repression and simply allowing himself to feel and express his affection. Additionally, he believes that through this confession and summoning the Empty he will be saving Dean's life, so he's happy that his love can protect others. Angel on the other hand gets his moment of happiness through the most traditional example of love being fulfilled. While it's easy to joke about sex turning him evil, I'd like to point out that he doesn't lose his soul mid sex or even directly afterwards; he wakes up in the middle of the night to dramatically turn evil in the rain. It wasn't just sex, it was the intimacy of having sex with someone he loves and falling asleep next to her. Either way, we get two apparently distinct triggers: romantic words and romantic actions.

The thing that I find so fascinating about Angel's situation in particular is that he is totally able to date Buffy and say he loves her and stuff. Before he loses his soul and after he gets it back they're openly a couple and he's not even subtle about how down bad he is for her. Looping back to Castiel, it's an almost direct parallel to his idea of the difference between "having" and "being" in regards to happiness. Angel doesn't get pure happiness from having a relationship with Buffy because even when they're together he isn't really letting himself be in the moment. They make a big deal in season three about how they can't have sex because it would risk triggering Angel's curse, but I genuinely think that he'd be too afraid of losing his soul to actually experience that simple happiness with her, even if they did have sex. Like I pointed out earlier, it's about emotional intimacy more than physical intimacy, and after learning exactly how much damage he can do without his soul, Angel will not let himself be fully emotionally intimate with anyone (even if his romantic relationship with Buffy is pretty good and healthy given the circumstances).

Castiel has seemingly been aware of his romantic feelings towards Dean for a long time, but he's so focused on keeping his emotions hidden that he wouldn't let himself feel any actual joy in regards to that relationship. He was clearly happy with Dean, but his feelings were always tempered with grief until he realized that genuinely expressing himself and his love could help rather than harm. While Angel got happiness from a moment of reciprocation, Castiel didn't need to hear Dean's response because he was happy just openly admitting his feelings.

I just think it's neat how in both cases it's not having a romantic relationship with their beloved that actually causes true happiness, it's emotional honesty with themselves and the people around them. The romantic words are important for Castiel opening up about his feelings towards Dean, and the romantic actions are important for Angel accepting Buffy's feelings towards him.

[ellicdote]

This is my first ever tumblr blog post. I was planning on just lurking forever.

But I am remarkably autistic about this and need to vomit it SOMEWHERE. So you're getting it.

Now, I originally was planning on banishing Caleb to the shadow realm because I thought that him being basically our brother and then becoming a love interest was WEIRD.

But then he came out, and I read his stories, and now he's one of my favorites.

Caleb is toxic in a way that is so interesting that it makes me want to put him in a jar and study him. What makes me most engaged is that he isn't beyond reason or redemption; he has the potential to correct these unhealthy behaviors given enough time and space.

His obsession with MC is prevalent and deeply concerning; he doesn't trust her to protect herself, he is willing to brutally kill anyone who hurts her, he wants to 'exist in a world where it's just the two of us'... but it comes from a place of such genuine fear and care that it makes one hesitate to call him a bad person. He is not wrong in constantly being worried for MC's safety, she is quite literally being targeted by people who want to experiment on her, but he goes about it in a way that denies her autonomy. Caleb is ruled by his fear and obsessive devotion to her to the point that he is willing to do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

He was willing to stay as far away as possible after the explosion and subsequent his involvement with Ever, because he knew that she would be safest at a distance. But once she found her way in? The only way to ensure her safety is to keep her glued to his side.

Caleb and MC are codependent. They feel like they would lose themselves should they lose the other. Now, I admit that Caleb is definitely the more dependent one and has been for a long time. Caleb has an aggressive need to be needed, specifically by MC. He needs her, so he wants her to need him. I'd argue that's something that comes from the fear; he wants that reassurance that she'll never leave him behind. But since the reunion, MC has definitely been tightening her grip on him in return. She lost him once, she can't lose him again.

However, when it comes to Caleb's controlling tendencies, MC does not up with his bullshit; she will not forced to passively wait until it's safe. No, she will FIGHT. Caleb argues with her on this, but he can and has been swayed to back off.

However, he does relapse. I mean, it's hard not to do when your worst fears are being validated day in and day out. He has a fundamental belief that he must be MC's protector, that she needs his help in order to stay safe. He wants to trust in her, but that nagging voice in the back of his head keeps going 'You have to intervene. You have to keep her out of this. It's the only way you're going to know that she's safe,'. MC is a damsel in distress, and he is the only one who can save her.

The chip that's implanted in him only enhances his toxic traits. During his bond story, he acknowledges his selfishness when MC calls him out, and even states that he's trying to let go of his obsessive tendencies. He wants to have a healthier way to go about things. The chip made him go back on his progress, but he's still able to see reason.

Caleb and MC are going to be in each other's lives no matter what, either as friends or lovers, and their dynamic is on very shaky ground. But there's hope.

It's that hope for a healthier relationship that makes them so utterly devastating to me. Watching their ups and downs happen is an emotional rollercoaster. The conflict also gives the relationship somewhere to go, story wise, that's engaging.

tl;dr, Caleb has toxic behaviors and has done harmful things to MC, but he's not beyond redemption.

[homelanderbutbig]

I Didn't Want You To Leave (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1433 words. Hurt/comfort, and some fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

Homelander both wants and does not want your affection, which confuses you. Inspired by a conversation with @flaggermuser.

The air is thick with tension in Vought Tower. After a recent disastrous blunder, Homelander dropped 10 points in his popularity and the backlash from the public has been relentless. A save went sour, and an innocent civilian died.

Of course he takes it personally, how could he not? He gives these people everything, and yet he makes one mistake and they toss him in the trash like a lice-infested commoner. His PR team has been scrambling to course correct this slipup, but they can only work so fast, especially with the giant supe breathing down their necks, demanding they work faster to bring his audience back.

While the rest of the Vought employees are on edge from the threat of a deadly outburst, you're probably the only one sad to see him so restless. You understand that he thrives on his public perception, and whenever there's even the slightest drop in his ratings he obsesses over why people must 'hate' him. It's a neverending cycle, one that he doesn't have the power to break.

So, you decide to try and do your best as a mere mortal to cheer him up.

You tail behind him as he storms up and down the halls, letting him feel your presence as much as possible. You do everything that you know helps calm him down, like reaching up to hold his hands and giving him hugs. Or as close to a hug as you're able, as you're as tall as his abs and can only wrap your arms around his legs.

Under normal circumstances, he'd be leaning into your touches and picking you up to immerse himself in your affections. However, today he barely even reacts when you look up at him sweetly; all you see is Homelander's stern expression ignoring you, practically without any emotion at all. You figure it's just from the stress of this ordeal, you know how he gets. And you aren't going to abandon him just because he's in a mood.

Eventually, you find him alone in The Seven's meeting room, reading over some script his PR team gave him. Still with that detached look on his face.

As you've been doing all day, you saunter up to him and hug his legs. But unlike before, something in him breaks. His eyes start to twitch and your only warning sign is the sound of paper crumpling in his fist.

"Would you leave me alone?!" he snaps, the irritation seeping through his loud voice. He backs away from your grasp so fast that you nearly topple over from his sudden absence. Steadying yourself, you gaze upward to see him looking utterly frustrated at you. You've seen his anger directed at others, but he's never looked so mad at you before. "I'm trying to figure this shit out with my ratings, and you clinging onto me like a fucking barnacle isn't helping!"

"I-I'm sorry Homelander, I'll go…" you mutter startledly, before you quickly turn around and let him be in solitude. Your heart is beating out of your chest, in a fearful way you've never experienced. You'd never seen this side of him, the side that cannot be placated until his demands are met. All he wants is to recover his points, and you're doing nothing but distract him.

From then on, you go out of your way to avoid him the rest of the day. But you start to notice as the hours go by, he keeps appearing wherever you are. Almost like he's trying to get close with you. However, you keep your distance as he asked earlier, excusing yourself from the room to give him the space he requested. You don't even take the time to acknowledge him, you exit as soon as you see the blue supersuit approaching.

It's strange though, you start to lose track after a while at how many times you keep running into him. It's like he's finding you on purpose. But he made it crystal clear to you what he wanted, so you keep walking out.

Once your shift is over in the evening, you ultimately decide to check in on Homelander at his penthouse and see how he's managed. From the gossip you've heard around the office it seems like his PR team has concocted a strategy to shift the blame off him and onto a mysterious 'supervillain' who murdered the civilian. Disaster averted, you suppose.

You assumed he'd be happy that his points will start rising by tomorrow, and everything would be back to normal between you two.

Instead, upon entering the penthouse all you see is a giant baby pouting on the couch. He looks like an absolute mess, hopelessly fighting back tears that are already running down his cheeks as he grips onto the couch cushion with both hands.

"Do you hate me?" he mumbles after some time, keeping his eyes planted on the ground.

"…What?" you ask, dumbfounded at this complete 180° in his attitude. Did he just blank out this entire day because he was so grumpy over his ratings?

"You were avoiding me…" he responds, still not looking at you.

"You told me to! You yelled at me to leave you alone, so I did," you remind him, now being the one who's becoming annoyed. First he has a tantrum over you hugging him, and now he wants your attention?

"I… I-I didn't want you to stop," he admits quietly, gripping onto the couch tighter until you hear the cushions crinkle in protest.

After a few seconds of staring blankly at his admission you sigh to yourself, probably harder than you ever have in your entire life. You're beginning to crack through another layer of Homelander's psyche. Nobody has ever told him 'no' when he desires something. He's the strongest supe in the world, no one in their right mind would willingly face his inescapable wrath. And yet, you just shut down his advances without even realizing what you were doing. Unaware of how he'd been chasing after you in the hopes you'd forget his earlier outburst and go right back to showering him in love.

He's emotionally stunted, incapable of understanding why you're mad at him when he gets angry at you. He just expects you to come back afterwards.

Carefully, you climb up onto the oversized couch next to Homelander, who finally decided to actually look at you with his red puffy eyes. In a rare occasion he appears to be terrified, apprehensive of what you're going to do next. In any other scenario it would almost be funny, considering even sitting down you're only eyelevel with his chest. You still have to crane your head up to even see this colossal man scared of someone so small in comparison.

"Come here," you relent, patting your thighs.

He swallows hard, rapidly blinking as he takes in your words. To be honest he's a little surprised that you're seemingly forgiving him, and genuinely too. There's nothing in your body language that emits any anger over his actions, or fear of repercussions if you don't indulge him.

Carefully, he adjusts his body to lie down in your lap, his large head taking up more space than your legs have room for. Regardless, you don't waste any time in running your fingers through his hair. His anxiety dissipates the longer your tender touches encompass him, scratching his undercut in a way only you know he loves. The craving for affection he's been consumed by has completely been sated.

"Next time, if you want me to give you some space, I don't mind doing that. But if you want me to come back later, you can't yell at me. You have to treat me with respect, and I will respect you back," you explain patiently. You can't be irate at him for very long, you know how he is. But you just want him to have an understanding with you, that he can't do this to you anymore.

He simply nods at your request before nuzzling himself further into your chest, closing his eyes as he lets his remaining stress go. Feeling your tiny hands dancing along his scalp is so intoxicating to him, it's moments like this that he can forget how inhumanly large he is, when he can ignore the rest of the world and bury his head into your lap, submersing himself in your heavenly scent and heartbeat.

He'll try better next time. He doesn't want to get mad at you like he did today, he can't deprive himself of these precious moments ever again.

[ladynyoko]

Jonah's Enucleation

So this is going to be a long post. I apologize for that in advance. I've been sort of blowing up @talesfromtreatment's ask box since Sunday morning going through a hell of a rollercoaster with my dog. (Again, sorry about that. Not sure if you read any of it, but if you haven't feel free to delete those messages and just read this post instead if you want to know what I've been using your ask box as a sounding board about for the last 48-ish hours.)

This all starts Saturday.

We have a Beagle/Jack Russell mix. His name is Jonah. He's around 8-ish years old and, tragically, a beagle with all that entails. He's a good dog - but he's got loud opinions and can't help himself around food or cat toys. He wears sweaters in the winter when it's cold. He has a favorite blanket. He's overweight but we've been working on it.

Saturday morning, when we woke up, everything was normal. As the day went on, he started acting like he does on his bad pain days. He's had Lyme in the past and while he tests negative now, he has what I can only describe as flare ups. He'll get listless, go off his food, and just be miserable for a day before he perks up and is just fine the next day. We have prescription painkillers for if a flare up lasts particularly long or he's really uncomfortable. But this looked like a mild one, all things considered.

Saturday evening, when I let him out for the night, I noticed a little bit of odd behavior. He walked straight into the screen door on his way back in. "Huh, that's odd." I thought. But it was dark out, and the screen door was in a different spot than usual because of some ground shifting after our recent cold snap - I wasn't able to open it all the way like I usually do. He didn't seem to find his treat as quickly as usual either. But I figured, he's getting older. Maybe his vision's going a little. He already has his annual scheduled in March - I'll bring it up with his vet then.

I didn't get a chance.

Sunday morning, when we woke up, he was blind. In the short span of 24 hours, he'd completely lost his vision.

We knew something was wrong. We checked the hours for our local animal urgent care, and resolved to take him in the second they opened.

And once they had, we loaded him and his favorite blanket up in the car, and drove straight there. There was another emergency ahead of us. The clinic was busy. Not surprising - it was the only place within an hour's drive that was open today. Everyone with an urgent problem would be going there today. Still, we weren't waiting very long before they brought us back to one of their two exam rooms and started intake.

We didn't wait long for the vet either.

It's a vet we know. She's saved our cat's life before. (Some of you may remember Lily, if you've been following me for a long time. We had to do signal boost fundraising for her years back after a near death experience.) We trust her implicitly. She looks over Jonah and confirms our suspicions. He's completely blind. But why he's suddenly gone blind is what we're there to find out.

After examining him, she suspects glaucoma. It wasn't something I even knew dogs could get. On the way there, I'd been running through the worst fears I could think of. Had his thyroid medication tipped him the other way into hyperthyroidism? Had we missed diabetes? Was it a brain tumor?

We were prepared for a lot of things. Glaucoma sounded easy! My mom has borderline glaucoma! Just eye drops to control his pressure and keep up with his annuals, and he'll be fine, right?

So back to the waiting room we went while they started his tests. We requested a comprehensive blood panel to rule out any other possibilities, which the vet agreed to do in addition to his eye pressure check and a test to check his moisture levels in his eyes as well.

We wait for a bit, they bring him back out, and we get his test results. Blood panel looks good. Eyes are a tiny bit on the dry end of normal range. But his eye pressure is through the roof. Glaucoma confirmed. No big! We just need to get his eye pressure down and then we can get him on maintenance drops and follow up with our regular vet.

Except that isn't how it happens.

He gets his first round of drops. We wait thirty minutes. He gets a second round, because his pressure was really high, another thirty minutes. They retest. The pressure in his right eye is down. But his left eye has continued to climb. We do another couple rounds of drops. Another retest. His right eye has stabilized. His left eye has not. They give him a narcotic for the pain. We try another medication - one that the vet didn't want to use because it's extremely uncomfortable for the dogs but at this point we need to get this under control. Drops every fifteen minutes. Waiting. Agonizing. We talk about next steps. The vet consults with a specialist in a larger city. Jonah has calmed thanks to the narcotic and is laying on his blanket on the floor of the waiting room.

After nearly six hours at animal urgent care, the pressure in his right eye finally comes down. It's still high, but the vet doesn't want to keep him any longer. We're discharged with a steroid to control the inflammation and hopefully manage the pain, an antibiotic because we just spent nearly six hours fussing with his eyes and don't want them infected, and the drops to control his eye pressure. We're given strict instructions to follow up with our regular vet the next day and have his pressure retested as soon as we're able.

Exhausted, we bring our extremely drugged dog home. He pees in the front yard and spends the rest of the evening on his blanket on the couch. I give him his first dose of medication without incident. Then his second. Mom goes to bed. I promise to wake her if I need help giving him his third dose.

He sleeps on the couch. Our cat joined him at some point between his third dose and the time I came up for his fourth. His narcotics are starting to wear off now. He cries when I go to gently pull his eyelid back to medicate his left eye. His eye looks worse. He's in pain. I feel bad but I know I have to do this and thankfully I manage on my own. He settles down and I go to bed, resolved to wake in four short hours for his next dose.

The next morning I wake up for his next dose of meds. Pressure drops then steroids. His eye hasn't improved. I start to worry. I'm afraid of what we'll find when we drop him off at the vet. Has his left eye continued to trend downwards or has it shot back up? We won't know until he gets tested. Our other dog has a grooming appointment. Mom leaves to take him to that. I stay home with Jonah. I call our vet and let them know what's going on. Ask if we can drop him off. The tech tells me the vet won't be in for another hour and she'll call me back as soon as she's talked to them.

I lay down on the couch with Jonah and try to get a little more sleep. I wake up in an hours - he needs his antibiotic now. The vet calls and agrees to a drop off appointment. I drive him in with his blanket, all his medications, and the meal he hadn't eaten that morning. I let them know everything that's happened in the last 24 hours. He hasn't eaten or drank anything since the previous morning. I worry.

Mom gets home with our freshly groomed other dog. We talk about what we're going to do. We've stretch our budget thin paying for his urgent care visit the previous day. We know the next step is to remove the eye that we can't get under control - a $2,000-$3,000 surgery. Way out of our budget. But we don't want him to be in pain. We resolve that if his pressure has gone up again, we'll have him put to sleep rather than have him suffer any longer.

The waiting game starts again. A few hours later, we get the call. The vet retested his eyes three times. The right has completely stabilized. The left has shot up again. We're devastated. We know what's best for him. What has to be done. We let the vet know, and schedule to come to the office in three hours to see him across the rainbow bridge, after we've had time to inform His Boy who now lives two hours away with a family of his own.

We're all emotionally drained by this point. We've cried off and on. It's hard to talk about it without crying. The urgent care vet calls us to see how he's doing and we tell her the bad news.

Monday afternoon, we drive to the vet's office. We try not to break down into tears in the waiting room, knowing what's coming. Knowing we'll be led into the quiet Goodbye Room they have, with its nice couch and soft pastel walls and privacy.

We get called up to the tech and are met with a question.

"If money weren't a problem, what would you do?" I reply without thinking. "Get rid of the damn eye." She tells us that there's another option. There's a friend of the office who offers financial assistance for cases like ours. Young, otherwise healthy animals with decent prognoses whose owners just can't afford the treatment they need. She only asks what we can afford to pay, and she'll pay the rest. No need to repay her. We're overcome. There's the smallest glint of hope.

We ask when we'd have to pay, because we'd just tapped everything we had for his urgent care appointment. She offers to talk to the vet. The vet agrees. We're clients in good standing who've proven again and again how much we care for our pets. The entire office hated what was about to happen because we just couldn't afford a treatment. For us, they'll defer payment until our next check comes in.

Overcome, we schedule the surgery. Jonah is brought out to us, now on painkillers and in significantly better spirits. (Although some of that may be attributed to a dirty secret they shared with us. One of the girls in the office had a birthday that day, you see. And, thinking it was his final day, they'd spoiled him fucking rotten. He may have diarrhea tonight, the tech says apologetically. We just laugh.)

On February 4th, Jonah's left eye will be removed. His right eye will remain. He'll be blind for the rest of his life. But he'll be alive and out of pain and that was always the goal we were aiming for. We still have a heavy financial burden, but he's worth it. He's so, so worth it. We're going to have so many more years to enjoy him and all his tragically Beagle crimes.

[esnuppi]

i like this interpretation! before, i had the idea that anya was acting in a panic mode, partially kickstarted by the revelation of her pregnancy, partially from the birthday party incident a few days prior, finding out she would be coming back to earth with no job or savings— now feeling like she has nothing left to lose by taking action. another detail about the party scene i don’t see discussed: jimmy’s outburst at the table likely did not help her fears regarding how he might behave as time goes on (if he can lash out at their captain, in front of everyone, what could he do to her and get away with? like her, would he also have nothing to lose now? if so, what does that make him capable of?). so i think it could be both, she’s panicked and she’s trying to push curly to do something.

besides, it was only a matter of time before she starts to show as the pregnancy moves further along, might as well tell jimmy now on her own terms instead of waiting for the inevitable (something that i also feel ties into the themes for her as a character from how she takes her final action of locking herself in the medical room— choosing to end her life her way rather than wait for supplies to run out, or worse, for jimmy to make the choice for her)

more on the topic for why anya wouldn’t just wait a little bit longer for curly, because i find these details really compelling and i feel the urge to ramble:

when you think about the timeline of when anya was assaulted by jimmy in order for her to find out about the pregnancy herself in the week of the crash (assuming she just tracked missed periods since pregnancy tests on the ship are unlikely) it was probably between 1-2 months prior to the start of the games events. which means she was suffering alone for all that time, keeping the incident to herself (likely out of a combination of fear for jimmy further harming her, pony express retaliating against the entire crew, AND not knowing how curly, the person with the highest position of power, will even respond since jimmy is a longtime friend of his that he has so far been leaving unchecked. even if anya and curly had a good trusting relationship before this, it’s still a terrifying thing to talk about with anybody).

im sure a major factor in her unwillingness to continue waiting for curly to take action at the final day mark is because of this. for curly, he’s only had knowledge of what jimmy’s done to her for about a day. but for anya, its been months. months of feeling trapped, not knowing what will happen next, not once ever feeling safe, not having any assurance that help will come.

reading the final part of @mikoworks comic “always there” and it’s making me Realize things. i always wondered why anya decides to tell jimmy about the pregnancy. if she’s seen what kind of man he is, why would she ever put herself at risk by telling him?

it’s because curly is failing her. but she knows she can get his attention by setting jimmy off. to make him a “real” threat that even curly can’t ignore. anya wanted jimmy to lash out, or to at least get aggressive. then curly would actually have to do something about him. an immediate action instead of hesitating even longer. unfortunately none of them could’ve predicted how extreme jimmy’s reaction would be

[s0fter-sin]

saw a tweet about mer!ghost being rescued from roba by price and placed in his rehab facility that soap lives in after a boat propeller injured his tail and now i’m obsessed with the idea that ghost thinks he's traded one hell for another and when he sees the beached shark mer with a human device strapped to his tail, it's all but confirmed for him

the pens they’re in are poorly designed; they’re huge, deep with glass walls but completely open to each other and it takes nothing to pull himself over the edge into the the other mer's cage. he swims over to the platform he’s trapped on and hushes what he thinks is panicked warnings and fearful pleading. he covers his mouth and begs him to stay quiet; ghost is bigger and as an injured mer, he has every right to fear he'd take his territory if not eat him outright but he can’t escape and leave this mer behind to endure his fate

he promises he won't hurt him, promises he'll find a way to free them both from this human prison

the mer quiets, eyes narrowing in such human confusion that it makes him ache; this mer has been here too long, to have adopted their mannerisms and abandoned any hope of freedom

ghost quickly checks their surroundings, ensuring none of their jailers heard the mer's noises. no one disturbs them and he pulls the mer off the platform into the water, diving under his tail to get a better look at the trap. the mer tries to pull away, tries to get him to stop; it must hurt something awful if even freedom isn't enough of a temptation to try removing it

ghost winds his own tail around him, immobilising the mer and uses his teeth to tear through the trap and his heart breaks to see how his poor tail has been mangled; more than half of it gone, deep scarring left in its wake

he releases the mer and jets back to the surface; he’s wasted too much time, they need to hurry before the humans return. but when he looks to coax the mer through an escape, he sees him sinking to the floor like a stone, writhing and moving his arms in an attempt to swim but nothing stops his fall

ghost ducks back down and takes the mer in his arms-

only to rear back when he claws him away, baring his fangs in a threat display even as he sinks back to the floor, unmoving

ghost circles him, confused why he won't let him help when he sees him start to suffocate. he's a shark mer; if he doesn't swim, he can't breathe

and with only half a tail, he can't swim at all

ghost tries again but the mer won’t let him close so he waits for his eyes to begin to flutter and charges in, grabbing the mer out of reach of his claws and fangs and drags him through the water; forcing precious oxygen into his gills

he swims in circles until the mer comes to, sluggishly clawing at his arms but he refuses to let go. he won't leave this mer behind, even if he has to carry him through the ocean for the rest of their lives

but they took too long

a human enters and sees ghost holding the injured mer and hits something that makes the walls screech, red flashing from the ceiling, and even more human come charging in. ghost clutches the injured mer to his chest and hisses, saliva flying from his bared fangs

he won't let them hurt him any more

he spins, trying to keep them all in his sight- when the shark mer's fin slaps him in the face. his arms slacken around him and he throws himself at one of the walls of the cage, gripping it to hold himself up

ghost stares at him, betrayed and enraged; they've broken this poor mer until he doesn't even know who his true allies are anymore

his tail thumps against the wall, instinctively trying to swim and support his weight and one of the humans drops to one knee. he throws an arm out, barking something and another human takes off running

he turns back to the injured mer, grabbing hold of his arm and ghost hisses again, rushing them both when the mer snarls at him to stop and he freezes. he watches the mer hold his arms up and the human clasps his forearms and stands, walking him along the border of his cage back to the platform he'd been beached on

but he chirps as the human tugs him up on it, curling up with the end of his tail just barely dipping in the water

like he's happy

the wailing and flashing lights abruptly stop and ghost fights the urge to shake the echoing ring from his ears. the other human returns and he doesn't fight the hiss when he sees another trap in his arms; the same one the mer had around his tail

ghost's hiss cuts off when he gets a face full of water and he splutters, looking back incredulously at the shark mer who'd just splashed him

he laughs at whatever look is on his face and rolls his eyes in another painfully human gesture. he reaches for the trap, fingers flexing like he's trying to pull it right out of the air and the human shakes his head as he hands it over

the mer lifts his tail onto the platform and ghost can't believe his eyes when he fits the trap onto himself; tightening every strap until the muscles of his tail bulge under the pressure. the mer slumps like he's relieved and shoots him a look; daring and almost playful and winks as he throws himself into the water

ghost lunges for him, waiting for him to sink again-

but he's not sinking

he's swimming

he twirls and spins around him like an overgrown dolphin, flaunting his strength and agility and the humans around them laugh and shake their heads at the display like they’re used to it and ghost realises it isn't a trap on his tail

it is his tail

the humans gave him a new tail

the mer flicks to a stop in front of him, now easily supporting his weight and gives him a full-fanged grin

"you're a little tangled up inside, huh, big boy?"

[i-reblog-everything44]

The fandom when Anya is nice to jimmy and compliments/butters him up after the crash: obviously this is a fawn response. She doesn’t actually think these things about jimmy, she is simply trying to protect herself against a volatile, unstable person by placating him

The fandom when curly tries to placate jimmy by telling Jimmy he’d fix things, after being very nervous about jimmy’s anger and reaction when talking to Anya right beforehand and his heart racing so hard on the way to confront jimmy that he’s likely on the verge of a panic or anxiety attack: hmm. Obviously everything curly is saying to jimmy here is completely genuine and not motivated by anything. He obviously doesn’t care about the fact jimmy raped Anya and only cares about helping jimmy at the detriment to Anya. He’s a rape apologist. There could literally be no other potential explanation for why curly is saying the things he is saying right now. Let’s take everything curly is saying here completely at face value and not analyze anything else about Curly’s behavior or the rest of the scene.

[seriously why are people only capable of recognizing the fawn response in Anya and not Curly]

[sieglinde-freud]

oh im obsessed with this actually… who ever wrote this one i am kissing u on the forehead and hugging you real tight… inigo is such a loverboy im kkkhhhhhhijnsdnfng

[anastacialy]

y'know, i keep making a habit of swinging my bat at hornets nests, but i have to say i'm getting so, so tired of people complaining about shows not making perfect sense when they aren't even close to done. we're four episodes into this season of doctor who. we're four episodes into this season of bridgerton. and yet in both fandoms i keep seeing people whine that such and such didn't make sense or it wasn't explained all the way and by god you guys i think maybe explanations might come later in the season. this is something most viewers will recognize as being called a 'plot.'

[mizumuu]

>Laughs Out Loud

I thought that piece was just about people focusing too hard on labelling Mizuki instead of letting them be themselves like they ask, not that it was transphobia ._ .

its ok to have ur own interpretation of that piece but its very clear to me that that wasnt ame's intention

[like-sands-of-time]

If you don't write Ben as trembling, shaking, tripping over himself, stumbling to his knees for Rey I don't think you actually understand the character as he was in that moment

Rey could have ended that war by taking his hand tbh. If she had taken his hand she absolutely could have convinced him to do anything in that moment. He just killed his master, the man who had been in his head for 30 years, manipulating and destroying him from the inside out. He had no sense of personal identity, just a loose sense of morals and ideals and his obsession with her. She fully controlled him.

Obviously she did what she thought she had to do but I'm only observing. She wanted the death and fighting to stop. I do think if she had taken his hand she could have convinced him. He wanted to bring about peace and balance like his grandfather, he just didn't have all the right tools, like, rey's goodness and a different perspective.

[sovonight]

.