#guy who is literally and metaphorically a shell of who he once was

[darklight-owl]

You will never understand the irreparable damage Yomiel Ghost Trick inflicted on my psyche you can never understand the irreparable damage Yomiel Ghost Trick inflicted on my psyche. Play Ghost Trick.

[certaincollectionlandblog]

Domestic life with the book guys featuring the Twisted series by Ana Huang

*In honor of the fact that I have been so stressed my period came a whole two weeks early (live, laugh, love) please enjoy the absolute outpour of content this following week :)

Alex Volkov (Twisted Love by Ana Huang)

If we are going strictly off of Alex's character in Twisted Love it can be safe to assume that he is not going to be warm and mushy. This does not mean that there won't be any larger than life proclamations of love (I mean this man dropped 40k easy on a painting just because his girl wanted it), but he isn't going to be doing anything over the top in public

Following the previous point if you are expecting PDA I hate to tell you the most you'll be getting is maybe some light hand holding and a very quick hug

If there is a book man who is the definition of introverted I so see Alex fitting that description

He may not tell you he loves you verbally, but there are other ways he shows you. He might keep your favorite snacks in stock at the house so you never run out. He is going to have all of your favorite games and movies at the house so if you ever want to stay in you're able to.

Now if we're going off of Alex's character development throughout the Twisted Series and further on we can tell Alex is slowly coming out of his shell. He is still severely introverted, but he clearly is getting better at mild PDA.

Alex is as Taylor Swift would say Midnight Rain and he honestly just needs someone who will either be an absolute ray of sunshine or loves to dance in that rain (metaphorically speaking of course he would never actually want to dance in the rain for fear of getting you sick)

As we can clearly tell that man is constantly dropping a pretty penny on whatever you want. Looked a little too long at the purse in the window and boom it's wrapped up on the table when you get home. Mention wanting to read a book ONCE and he has it delivered in hardback (it's also autographed duh)

As far as like living together domestic life this man is spotless. He doesn't leave dirty dishes, dirty clothes, literally anything behind. He keeps control of his life in the form of keeping everything clean, orderly, and planned out.

This clearly follows into the bedroom because this man is never ever going to give over control. "Oh he might be a switch" No. Nope. Never. Don't see it happening sorry.

Alex is clearly not a very words of affirmation person, but quality time seems important to him. He will never admit it, but he is a cuddler like big time. Short of it being a quickie this man is not having sex with you and not getting his cuddles afterwards. Would he rather die than admit this to anyone ever? 1000x yes However as clean as this man is he is not laying in dirty sheets.

He wasn't given a proper upbringing and spending time with you doing mundane tasks around the house heals part of his inner child. You need to go to the grocery store? He's right there pushing the buggy. You need to wash dishes? He is ready to dry and put them up.

Rhys Larsen (Twisted Games by Ana Huang)

This man is about as protective and possessive as they come do we need to revise the chapter on him threatening to burn down parliament? *enter swooning here*

He is a sucker for safety because if anything happened to you that he could have prevented everyone better be praying

PDA is all based on timing. Rhys can read a room and he knows when he gets to let them know you're his and when it's not appropriate

Rhys is former military and he has gone through a lot. This man is a shell of who he used to be and the book clearly showed us that, however Rhys is the perfect example of how if you are broken once before that you won't remain broken forever. He struggles with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), technically it's known as C-PTSD (Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). He is so used to giving up control to follow orders that sometimes he just needs to be reminded he's human and that regardless of the outcome everything will be okay.

He loves going on vacations where you can just get away from the world for a while and turning off the buzz of everything going on

As a way to cope with his C-PTSD Rhys uses drawing to relax. You'll often find little scraps of paper around the house with his sketches on them.

It's hard for Rhys to open up, but when he does you understand it was well worth the wait

Say what you want, but I firmly believe Rhys is a switch. This man could truly go either way and I think it depends on the situation. He doesn't have very many "no's" but if anything could seriously hurt you he is not down for it. He is covered in enough scars left by others that he would never want to take a risk that could leave you with that same lifelong reminder.

This man is the kind to show up at 3am with a dog he found on his way home and how he's only allowed to stay for one night and you end up keeping the dog forever

His phone screensaver is literally a photo of you and the dog because let's be real he can't pick a favorite

This man is a slut for emotional intimacy

If you told him "Oh I got you this cause I remembered you liked them", "I heard this song and thought of you", or "I thought you might like this" he is going to be thinking about it for forever

Rhys is going to make it well known that you're his girl

Josh Chen (Twisted Hate by Ana Huang)

*I have to say Josh is my least favorite, but I will try to do him justice*

This man is a doctor (and a bit of an ass tbh) so he would not trust anyone else to take care of you, if you get sick it's Dr. Chen to the rescue

He loves bringing you random food at work, but he also has a really tight schedule being a doctor and all so if he can't deliver it in person he will have it waiting on you when you get home

Let's be real Josh's personal life is a little bit of a mess and I wouldn't expect anything different from him on how he would keep a house. There would be rumpled clothes all over and the bed might never get made. He would pick up his trash, but if the dishes didn't make it in the dishwasher they were simply waiting till next time to get done.

Now Josh is nothing short of a playboy for the most part so the idea of him settling down will definitely be an adjustment.

Due to Josh being a doctor and still working to pay off his student loans he can't really afford fancy vacations or expensive gifts. Josh really loves just eating cheap takeout with you and watching movies

We all know Josh isn't the best with his words and is really hot headed, this often leads to Josh more so apologizing and a rather decent amount of makeup sex

Josh is the definition of all out rough, break your back like a glow stick sex. He's going to degrade you and yet have you coming back for more every single time. He's cocky and quiet honestly he has a few good reasons to be

He is more likely to fuck now and ask questions later it's just the Josh Chen way

Emotionally intimacy? Josh doesn't know her (maybe a little) but this man is more likely to have you open up to him before he ever opens up to you. He's been betrayed by some people who were incredibly close to him before and he will be damned if he makes that mistake ever again

Christian Harper (Twisted Lies by Ana Huang)

Rhys and Christian are big buddies so it makes sense that they are going to be extremely similar, but different in their own little ways

Christian has little use for moral code and much less what society deems as correct, but if you deem it correct than he is going to break his back bending over backwards to make that happen for you

Christian is the grumpy cat of the group. Sassy, grumpy and yet just the perfect combo of attractive to have that attitude forgotten (almost)

He runs his own security company and if you think he goes overboard for his clients you have no idea how overboard he will go for your safety

He is the definition of a German Shepard boyfriend; looks scary, fiercely protective, and is willing to chase down the mail man if he threatens you

Christian is a make his own rules type of man. If you're uncomfortable or upset he doesn't give a single crap he is going to do what makes you happy

You know this man makes note of everything single thing you like; your favorite drinks, your favorite movies, which friends annoy you the most and why (Christian is an honorary girlie he loves all the tea)

This man is petty to the T

If something small annoys him he is going to remember it until the day he dies

Opening up is hard for Christian and I think it would take a lot to get the point where he is open to freely sharing information with you

He is more likely to tell you about something that bothers him on a small day to day basis than telling you the big stuff from his past

Christian knows that he is the physical embodiment of big dick energy and does not disappoint

I really don't ever see Christian not being dominant, but hey I could be persuaded to think otherwise given the situation. I just don't personally see it

This is a man gives off the vibes of being downright obsessed. If you made cookies that tasted like straight up saw dust he would eat them all to see you smile before you would be able to pry the truth about how bad they were out of him

[morkanslily]

(I.) In the End You are a Shell, and Nothing More.

summary: Two little dolls who lack a heart. While the first believed it was only he out of you two who lacked it in the metaphorical and literal sense, he came to learn that so too, did you.

notes: puppet!reader & scaramouche, where reader dies. In this, the Balladeer harbinger rank actually has two lords, with Scaramouche facing as its face, and you being considered in equal ownership of the role. Basically 2 lords in one

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

He truly did love you.

And oh, how he wished he didn’t.

Prior to this disaster, the herald of indignation was performing his required duties as harbinger. Tasks that were nothing more than mere inconveniences that only served to pull you further away from his grip. Excruciatingly long visits to lands beyond Snezhnaya, such as the country of Freedom and that of Contracts. And even then, these nations felt just as bitterly empty and cold as the former was without your presence. It anguished him to no end, how he agonizingly longed for you by his side. Not only because he yearned to see the way how your lips would curve humorously when your eyes caught his, but also how he found such desires childish—and maybe even embarrassing to an extent. He was a poet of ire, and you, his beloved, were his muse of recourse. After all, he is The Balladeer, is he not? In his long and miserable existence, he had sought solace amongst humans when the gods had forsaken him. But for every time he chose to, it would come back to bite him. What did he even expect, being so naive? Offering your hand to vicious and cruel beasts will only leave you without it.

 Nevertheless, you are an exception it seems. Exceptions… Ah, quite a rare occurrence indeed. For gods see no worth in him and neither does he sing their praises, and humans are too far beneath him to matter. In this perpetual purgatory of living, never once had he expected to come across you. You, yes, you, bear the same mark of mechanical existence as he. Destined to live an outlier amidst gods and men, you are the only being blessed with sentience who he deems his equal—his other half.

It always mystified Scaramouche how even the knowledge alone that you are indeed of his kind brought him reassurance for the eternity he had yet to spend with you. He would never admit it of course, but deep within the confines of his soul, he is elated to bask in your familiar presence and his thoughts of you. Just as a sunflower(despite him being the farthest man possible from said plant)will always bend towards the sun for dear life. To know that there is someone in this world whose touch is as cold and devoid of warmth as his, sends him into repose--where for just a brief moment, he is allowed to forget the veil of his burdens that trail behind. If the people of this world have turned their backs on him, at the very least, he has you.

And even then, you…

…

“God, why me…” the Fatuus underling muttered under his breath.

He tried, oh how he tried his best to not tremble as he treaded anxiously towards his superior. Genuflecting, it took all of his willpower and dried up hopes to not mistakenly stumble and humiliate himself. He would much rather endure the violent winter of his homeland than have to accomplish this task. But can you blame him, really? Nobody, and no one has ever wanted to face the ordeal that is Lord Scaramouche. Especially not this guy, with the message he was ordered to deliver. He couldn’t shake off the memory of those sympathetic looks and shaking heads behind him as he departed. Practically everyone agreed that this mission bestowed unto him was a death sentence. And what was that mission, exactly?

The harbinger donned a scornful look of malevolence as his impatient eyes scrutinized the poor fellow. His head was raised, perhaps to further incise the fact that he was echelons above. The subordinate knelt before him, preparing to deliver the news. The messenger shrank under his senior’s watch, with an unshakeable spine-chilling cold running through him. Though he dared not to gaze back, he felt the crushing weight of irritation scanning him, unpredictable and utterly terrifying. He shuddered to think that if he just so happened to breath, this behemoth of inhumanity could erase him from existence with a snap of a finger.

“Speak.” The Balladeer demanded, narrowing his eyes in anticipation. 

“Yes, my lord.” the subordinate replied. He cleared his throat, and carried on. “Er, one of our m-main base camps in Snezhnaya—specifically one that you direct has… formally requested for your immediate return. They ask that y-you may personally provide assistance."

“...And what for?” the harbinger scoffed. “Are the fools that I specifically assigned to do their own jobs that worthless?” he crossed his arms, clearly exasperated by such an outrageous demand. “Hmph, the audacity to bother me with such menial affairs. I almost feel insulted by their ineffectiveness alone.” The lord fell silent for a moment, which sent the subordinate into panic. What more did his superior want? Was he contemplating, or purposely engraving anxiety onto his soul to taunt him? He cringed, awaiting what would entail from this deathly silence.

The Balladeer turned his back on him, striding ahead, then coming to a halt. All that was left was a silhouette cloaked by darkness in the dead of night, as his diaphanous veil served to shadow his figure further. All the minion could see was the giant kanji on its back, echoing the words in his mind. 悪. Evil.

What a savage man he is, the underling thought. His future would be on the line, very soon. If he wanted to live, he would need to successfully get ahold of his own strings in this puppet show of life and death—and choose his next words wisely. As the sixth slightly turned his head, his veil followed, swaying in the breeze, slow and elegant such as the pirouette of a ballerina. Above all else, the most accurate way one may describe him would be an angel of death. Sent straight from the thunders of heaven, to forever damn and blight Teyvat. The subordinate gulped, and braced himself for the punishment to come.

“You aren’t stupid enough to have traveled all this way to waste my time, are you?"

“No sir. Actually, the camp that called for your backup was ravaged and left in ruin by a currently unidentified criminal. Most of the survivors were successfully evacuated, but the location remains unsafe.” He held his breath. “I’m afraid that… the 'other half’, was last seen there, and went missing.“

Silence, again. The Balladeer turned to face him, the wind coming to a startling halt. In that very moment, the world felt as though it was in stasis. Stasis that hid the imploding pressure underneath the surface.

“What did you just say?”

“The situation is urgent. So far we have not been able to find the ‘other’ Lord Balladeer, due to complications. I will elaborate further, but as of now I advise that you may depart as soon as possible.” the Fatuus finished. The overlord lowered his head, his wide brimmed hat concealing his expression.

“Hmph. Is that so?

“Uh...yes my lord?"

“Oh, but when did you have the authority,” he raised his head, revealing a wry expression. “...to make demands of me as well?” he sneered, looking back at the subordinate.

Shit.

“No, I..."

A bolt of lightning immediately vaporized the ground nearby, almost missing him. The impact left a painful singe on his side, with parts of his garments chipped and burnt off. He clutched his side in pain, fully collapsing to his knees. His ears rang painfully, and his vision blurred as he coughed on the ground. Fire bloomed in the grass, the embers alive and sizzling. Lord Scaramouche’s finger was still smoking, an expression of pure wrath plastered upon his face. His eyes wide, crackled and seethed with anger. Even the wind picked up, furiously blowing at his hair and garments.

“You humans are always so dreadfully annoying.” He muttered, gritting his teeth whilst smoke seeped between. His words were lacquered with acrimony. The harbinger strode forth with celerity, trampling weeds in his wake. “Useless.” he rubbed his hands together to stop the smoke. “Inefficient.” He shook his head. “Ugly, worthless specks of dust.” In his eyes, humans were no more than unsightly weeds that spread too fast and too far in the garden to be plucked. The only situation? To burn it all together. He looked down on the recuperating man, and grabbed him by the collar. “You vile vermin fail to do the one thing you are asked, and still have the impertinence to come back crawling to me for help? Tsk, how amusing.” When the Balladeer raised his other hand to strike once more, the pest scrambled to make his final move.

“ W-wait, my lord-"

Only then did the subordinate truly learn, that sinners never gain redemption in the eyes of gods and angels alike.

@mhiieee @rainxiaower ⭐️

[caliburn-the-sword]

first cress thoughts!!! and reactions!!! and everything else!!!

i am so sorry that it's literally the first paragraph of the first page but "It was a prison that came with an endlessly breathtaking view" literally no view is breathtaking once you get used to it enough why would a CHILD be banished

omg this poor girl is named after the MOON?? the irony. she literally hides from the moon when she sees it. i would go on about the symbolism and stuff but i'm not going to because my brain is too tired to function rn

cress IS a shell. but then why isn't she dead?? they're meant to be killed. erland mentioned that he lost his daughter and would be about cinder's age, but did he actually SEE it happen?? if not then i reckon she's his daughter (again cause i'm braindead obsessed with ouat not because i'm serious. i'm only 25% sure of this). but i also reckon that she's VERY valuable if she HASN'T been killed. link it to rich people having one rule for themselves and one for everyone else. so either she's useful. or someone wants her alive and is bending the rules for her. otherwise they would not be going to ALL this effort of the satellite

looks like my spy theory in the eastern fed is null - but to be fair cress might just not know about it yet. it's not exactly like she would be trusted with all state secrets and what not

"felt almost like a mother's approval" metaphorically or is sybil ACTUALLY her mother???

i love that despite the stress of having to face off against the queen, figure out how to deal with genetically engineered soldiers and all the weight they have on their soldiers they're still able to act their age and tease each other - except poor cinder

omg does cress have a little crush on thorne??? she is LITERALLY the same as those braindead gen z's on tiktok that simp for killers and stuff

OMG CRESS WAS THE ONE THAT CLOAKED THE SHIP ALL ALONG HOW DIDN'T I REALISE THAT

"Cress was convinced that she knew more about Carswell Thorne than anyone else alive" stalker alert!!! lines are blurred tho because this is literally war

oh no. scarlet has a french accent. jail. (but then is everyone speaking the same language?? or does everyone have a universal translator chip inserted???)

"said Cinder, and Scarlet could have kissed her" i KNOW it's figurative language but also i like diagnosing characters with bisexual/too damn hot disease so scarlet is now bi. if it was wolf that i called bi as well then they're bi4bi. but also i don't want to reread the entire first half of scarlet to try and remember which guy it was i decided was bi and for what reason

between cress playing like 10 different video games at once she's basically an ipad kid. her attention span has been fucked up by tiktok (just like me fr) she can't read or watch anything without subway surfers playing beneath it

also something i haven't said before now: i LOVE how all the girls of tlc have noun names. they're just like me fr. it's so gnc of them. i love their names SO much. it's giving nonbinary. evocative but like in a whimsical way~ it's somehow so fantasy but so futuristic at the same time and i live for it

DAMMIT I FUCKING DELETED AN ENTIRE PARAGRAPH OF THOUGHT. gonna paraphrase here cause i'm too lazy. i'm very curious that cress calls the people of the moon lunars, mainly because she's lunar herself. like imagine i pass by a car and unironically think "oh there go the humans". it's strange. maybe it's her separation?? or is she part human and thus doesn't see herself as fully lunar??? i don't think it's because she's a shell. since the whole shell eugenics thing is a stand in for the lunar equivalent of poc, people with disabilities, minority religions, queer people etc who are all STILL human beings, hence the shells are still LUNAR. i'm sticking with my partial human theory until proven otherwise.

how FUNNY would it be if cress was completely wrong about thorne and he was just a douchebag and he was just lying after all that for sympathy. however given the textual evidence from scarlet, it would completely explain how he was completely open minded and down to support a lunar cyborg. honestly it makes him a lot more three dimensional. that said cress is still delulu

YES after what happened in scarlet i'm GLAD to see scarlet's mixed feelings towards wolf and his place in what happened to granny. forgiveness doesn't come easy!! love is hard. and yes, he has a dark side!! and she's just a normal girl. she's having one of the most human reactions i've ever seen to that kind of thing in fiction. i would have lost so much respect for her if she just ran back into his arms after all that, even tho i don't fully blame him. thanks miss marissa meyer for not just writing idiot lovesick teenagers. i can't wait to see him earn that trust back

@eddisfargo @francforever @winterrhayle @winterpinetrees

[agentravensong]

three observations / thoughts from reading the editorial notes in my new physical copy of Hamlet (the pelican edition, edited by a. r. braunmuller):

1. There's this bit from Act 2 Scene 2 where Hamlet is telling Ros and Guil about how he's depressed, how all the beautiful things in the world mean nothing to him. The thing that stuck out to me on this flip-through was the highlighted line and associated footnote below:

If we go with what is "traditionally supposed" as canon, then, it makes this line one of the most direct fourth-wall breaks in the whole show (that isn't a narrative device i.e. the soliloquies), because it implies that Hamlet sees the literal ceiling of the theater the play is being performed in.

You could just say that the golden fire refers to the real stars and such, making the "roof" metaphorical... but that's less fun.

2. There are a lot of bird allusions and metaphors in this play. Not just the “special providence in the fall of a sparrow” line that seems to haunt me specifically, but a lot of times that people are compared to birds.

marcellus calling for hamlet like how a falconer would apparently call a hawk in act 1 scene 5 when he's left on the battlements after the ghost disappears ("Illo ho ho, my lord!")

woodcocks (foolish birds) caught in springs (traps) (see polonius in act 1 scene 3 (talking about hamlet or ophelia, i think?), and laertes once he starts dying)

knowing a hawk from a handsaw, a spy from a true friend (act 2 scene 2) (according to the book "handsaw" is also supposed to sound like "hernshaw", a type of heron)

"it cannot be but i am pigeon-livered" (also act 2 scene 2)

cladius' limed soul (act 3 scene 4), "limed" apparently referencing birdlime, a gluey material used to snare birds

osric, the "lapwing" who "runs away with the shell on his head", comparing him to a freshly hatched baby bird

and at least one or two more that are currently slipping my mind.

Now, I’m relatively new to analyzing Shakespeare's works in this depth, so maybe this is a trademark in all his stuff, or maybe it was just common at the time; maybe it isn’t meant to be a pattern.

But amongst all those lines, I read this (part of Hamlet talking to Horatio after the play-within-a-play, leading up to him bragging to Horatio that he could definitely get a whole share in an actors' company):

And, given how meta Hamlet is as a play (see section 1/3 of this post)… perhaps this line, as unemphasized as it is, is meant to re-contextualize the rest of those bird references as pointing out / reminding us that all the characters are actors? Both in the literal meta sense and also the thematic “every character is playing a role for others and engaging in varying levels of deceit” sense?

Again, it’s possible I’m giving this more weight than it’s due because of my lack of context, but. It’s an interesting possibility, at least.

3. Okay, this last one is just funny. Remember when Laertes and Claudius are just beginning to brainstorm how they’ll eliminate Hamlet in the last scene of Act 4, and Claudius alludes to some skill of Laertes’ (fencing) that someone else has been spreading the word about? Do you remember who that someone was?

Well, the thing about this noted excellent horse-rider is…

Obviously, the only conclusion to draw from this is that the guy talking up Laertes’ fencing prowess is the literal Grim Reaper, setting things in motion for the fated fatal duel, and neither Claudius nor Laertes had the thought that taking such inspiration from a guy named as such might lead to an unfavorable end. Good job, you two.

[feekins]

depression still sucks but I stay sillay🤞

meanwhile, looks like shit's kicking off again at the start of ch 5 of Trigun Maximum vol 2, so let's get into my thoughts and things and translation weirdness I find as I re-read it!

(NOTE: I'm reading the Dark Horse [physical] and the Overhaul [online] translations side-by-side)

SO. first page. Brad's shoving Jessica into an escape pod. when Jessica tries to insist on staying, Dark Horse has Brad replying with "Get in the 'shell'!! We're at low altitude, we'll touch down soon!" which. always confused me. until I read the Overhaul's translation, which has Brad saying "Get in the ship! We're at a low altitude, so it'll land quickly!"

moving into Wolfwood's...flashback? dream? thing? we see this habit Dark Horse has of keeping in honorifics. I've noticed this throughout my re-readings (like Milly saying 'sempai' where, in the Overhaul, she says 'ma'am'...and they pretty consistently keep the '-san's and '-kun's and whatnot), but...idk. this is one of the more interesting instances to me. Dark Horse has the kids calling Wolfwood "Nico-onii-chan" and "Nico-nii" whereas the Overhaul translates these things as "Big Brother Nico" or just "Big Brother".

COMPLETELY UNRELATED:

(Dark Horse on top, Overhaul on bottom)

...I mean, okay, Dark Horse?????

on the next page...idk, kind of context-changing translation discrepancies? at least, it changed my understanding of this bit. Dark Horse has Wolfwood saying to the kids "It would appear...I'm no longer fit to hold you guys..." and you can see his bloody hands as he says this, so previously, I interpreted this bit as metaphorical blood on his hands and/or maybe his hands are physically fucked up? but in the Overhaul, it's "It seems...I no longer have the right to hold ya..." and that drives the visual metaphor home way better imo.

BUT THEN...WE'RE BACK TO VASH AND WOLFWOOD'S ANTICS 😆

which leads to...

(Dark Horse on left, Overhaul on right)

I MEAN??? OKAY?????

here's a translation discrepancy I'm attributing to Dark Horse doing weird localization things (again). it completely changes the context, messing with this recurring theme we see across vol 1-2 of how ordinary, nonviolent folks will turn to violence when their family is hurt or in danger. to quote Wolfwood in ch 4 of vol 1 of Trigun Maximum (Overhaul translation), "Even people who would never fight will pick up a gun if their loved ones are killed." I'm p sure I've said it before, but that goes all the way back to Vash going against Knives for causing the Fall (killing humans, whom Vash basically considers extended family, as Sensei explains in ch 6 of Trigun Maximum vol 1) and killing Rem (closer adopted family). so yeah, that thing Wolfwood says...that's something Vash knows intimately. so I don't think it's a stretch to say that perhaps that's a big part of why Vash keeps intervening (even when he's hurt or sick as hell;;;;;)...

ANYWAY.

something interesting I noticed about THIS freaky s.o.b.:

in this panel, Dark Horse has him saying "And lost property is lost property, right? Am I wrong? Hmm?" meanwhile, in the Overhaul...he has a pretty distinct Spanish accent? like, saying "Lost property is lost property. Am I right, or am I right, jefe? Comprende?" and that accent goes beyond this panel, so. THAT'S interesting. 🤔

and, once again, the Overhaul's translation makes more sense, as we literally just saw this guy light his cigarette with this thing.

good wordplay in both translations! I'm not sure why Dark Horse leaves out that one bit, tho 🤨

and again, Dark Horse! ya really need to stop leaving out these vital bits...

AND FINALLY...

...Wolfwood.

my guy.

you were LITERALLY THERE at Fifth Moon.

...then again, this bit isn't about the big things, I don't think. it's about the little uncanny things Wolfwood's noticing about Vash as they continue to travel together...

[whattraintracks]

Haha, what's this? I'm back, and holy guacamole, it got long. What began as wandering speculation nosedived into fic territory.

Short version: I think I really really like the idea of Raph with mystic psychometry. The ability to detect and experience emotional echoes attached to an object.

I benched this idea (largely based on my interpretation of Cal's force ability in SW Jedi: Fallen Order) as soon as I thought of it, because it didn't seem right for Raph. But I really really love psychometry and couldn't stop thinking about it, so I reviewed your published and unpublished HEM writings to see if I could justify it, and, well, here we are.

I think it could work because '03 Raph is an emotional guy, very physical, loves his family, and likes people in general. Additionally, I got the impression from HEM that Raph has a lot of regrets, often building what-ifs off the echoes of his own life, and that this is the kind of mystic power that would piss him off because it's a perceptive ability, and everything he senses has already happened. There is literally nothing he can do about or with it!

You see, I imagine Raph desperately envies both Don's threads—these live, vital connections to the people he loves—and Leo's spinjitzu/hydrokinesis—something he can use to be a better protector. But I love Raph, so I'm going to be mean to him specifically and not give him what he wants.

Like Don's, I think Raph's mystic specialty is shaped by desperation. A deep yearning that he reaches for with his whole soul, causing a shift within him and the world around him. At some point, Raph—angry and longing and missing his brother like a physical thing and guiltily wishing he was back—goes to Don's lab or somewhere else significant to Donny, and it's alive. With the patience and love and laughter of his brother, and for a moment, he's sure Donny never left at all because he's right here.

But he did leave. He can't be here, and whatever this feeling is is too naïve, too young, nothing like the presence his brother carries now. This dark, unwieldy thing that bows Don under its pressure. And Raph almost weeps because despite how powerful the impression is, that's all it is. It's not Don. It's an echo of him. Steeped into the floor and blossoming before his view like a plant feeling sunlight for the first time.

And so Raph discovers mystic echoes. Never things as they are or will be, only snatches of what used to be. Feelings, events, little details lost to time and made imperfect by remembering, preserved in perfect, quiet clarity in the physical world. And at home, they're in everything he touches.

He can't brush against a wall without choking on the overwhelming feeling of his brother's quicksilver mind. The door frame to his room carries the cloying sorrow of everyone who's entered looking for answers and left empty-handed. It starts like this, but as he reaches for these echoes, literally and spiritually, he only begins to feel more. Touching a child's plaything fills him with mirth or a flash of indignation at a toy once stolen. A memory of purchasing new dishware when he scrubs a plate. Dissatisfaction at the ending of a book he's never read before.

And it's annoying and overwhelming and such a stupid power what the shell, but. He gets it, right? That there are emotions so strong they bleed into the world around them. It's almost reassuring to find them, to hold in his hands a little piece of someone else and know what they knew and feel what they felt in a single moment. And it’s maybe even a relief to know his own emotions don't just exist in a void. They linger and enrich everything they touch. With every strong emotion he feels now (which is most of them), he can’t help but wonder what it will leave behind. It's exciting and terrifying.

This is the kind of ability that could burn Raph up, too. Because he's so desperate for any memory of Donny, however stale, that he leaves the metaphorical floodgates open to any and all echoes. He doesn't even realise this is something he can and should temper. He's already got so many of his own emotions, and now he's consuming with abandon those left behind in everything he touches.

Now, emotions that linger on objects don't alter his own. Raph's emotional state isn't changed by them any more than yours would be at the sight of someone smiling brightly or sighing glumly. It's not a transference; usually, he just holds the feelings alongside his own. But echoes are stronger with age. Impressions, once made, work deep into an object, though recent echoes are hard to find. Emotions like to stew before they show themselves.

So maybe he touches some sort of mystic or Foot artifact imbued with malicious intent. An ancient object carrying a mystic echo so powerful and evil that, without preparation, one touch knocks him out cold. His mystic connection feels shivery and frail for a week after, and he desperately isolate to avoid being rocked by an unexpected echo or, worse, find himself unable to feel the important ones anymore.

Once Raph settles into his psychometry and learns to regulate it, his ability could be beneficial in a mystic-rich world like Rise or when mystic foes pop up. Since echoes influenced by mystic are so distinct, if he can avoid overwhelm when interacting with an enchanted object, perhaps he could sense the caster's intent. He couldn't disable a cursed item directly, but this could help him discover how to. He could use this ability to track specific mystic signatures, items or people, given enough time had passed, or he honed the ability enough to detect the fainter, recent echoes. Maybe with time, he'd even be able to purify an object of its echoes. I know these might not seem like abilities Raph would want to cultivate, as detached from combat as they are, but I think they're a logical development here.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk about Raph developing psychometric abilities.

Is Donnie the only one with mystic powers what about his bros?

As of right now, I'm thinking that Donnie would be the only one of the 2k3 turtles with specialized mystic powers! (Don't quote me on that, though, there is a lot of stuff I'm still working out about the later bits.)

On the Same As it Never Was side, they no longer have amulets. If they wanted to train for years, they could use chi without a focus, but for the moment the only one even *slightly* pursuing that is Leo. They are mostly just adult mutant ninja non-magic turtles now.

I'm not opposed to exploring the 2k3 bros with mystic powers as in Rise, if not in the main story then in a side story/'what if' (or seeing someone else's take on this!) but I can't say I've given much thought to the sorts of specialties any of them would have except Donnie. His kind of came naturally as a consequence of his circumstances.

Just for fun, does anyone have any suggestions on Rise-style mystic powers for 2k3 Leo, Raph, and Mike? I'm curious! Doesn't have to be related to their season 5 weapon abilities, but certainly can be.

[ttuesday]

Hello there! Thank you for writing all these amazing headcanons! <333 I get so much joy when there's a new post from ya!

I had a prompt in mind: what are the gang members like when they get reaaaaly drunk? Who gets sad & sentimental, who gets all funny and jokey, who is all sleepy, and etc etc etc?

now this is an interesting one hehe

Arthur

When Arthur's drunk, he does his absolute best to try to convince everyone he isn't that drunk. He tries to walk in a straight line to prove he’s ok but accidentally walks into Uncle.

He somehow has great hearing and joins in on every sing song within a five mile radius. Arthur could be talking to you on the outskirts of camp but if he hears someone singing by the campfire, he joins in immediately.

He gets into a very jolly mood when he's drunk and talks about anything and everything. He rambles on about so much he interrupts himself a lot.

If he's sweet on you then Arthur asks to hold your hand and he won’t stop holding your hand for the e n t i r e night. No matter where you go or what you do, Arthur will potter after you with his hand still holding yours. And whenever you look at him, Arthur has a big, proud smile on his face as he looks at your hand in his.

Charles

Who is this man? Where tf did Charles  go? He acts very differently than sober Charles. Whatever idea springs to mind, he wants to do it. If he wants to do interpretive dance in the middle of camp then that's exactly what he does or if he decides to go skinny dipping at 4am then off he goes, trying to find a lake or a river.

One second Charles could be laughing so much he's nearly crying, a second later he could start sobbing because he remembered that time he accidentally shot a lawman's horse when he was trying to aim for the guy. Please hug him.

It doesn't matter how drunk Charles is, he can still yeet anyone over Mount Hagen and he can go from fun and goofy to deathly intimidating in under 1.5 seconds.

And if you and Charles are dating then he just wants to kiss you. He kisses your temple all the way down to your jawline before kissing back up to your ear.

Dutch

Dutch gets quiet when he's drunk. He just kinda sits there and stares off in a daze for ten minutes. When someone talks to him, it's like he buffers for a few seconds before responding.

But when he starts talking, good luck trying to get Dutch to shut up. And this man needs everyone to stop what they're doing and give him all of their attention when he decides to say a speech. And if one person stops paying attention then Dutch storms off.

Dutch really does believe he's unstoppable when he's drunk. And if you don't believe him then don't worry, Dutch has no problem spending three hours explaining how all of his plans are apparently bulletproof.

If Dutch is sweet on you then he tries to flirt with you. But the more he drinks, the harder it gets for him to string a sentence together. "Your eyes..." he slurs his words but tries to stay composed "they remind me... of uh... eyes".

Micah

Micah is so goddamn laid back when he's drunk. Strangely people tend to get on with Micah when he's drunk but by the time he's sober again he's gone back to being... well, Micah.

He's nice ? Which is so bizarre but he actually makes an effort to talk to people without antagonising them and instead of taking offence to comments, he laughs them off and sees it as a joke.

As long as the conversation stays light, Micah keeps his happy demeanour and he isn't even a bad loser when it comes to poker and five finger fillet. In a way, seeing Micah so friendly unnerves some of the other gang members because of how baffling it is.

If he's sweet on you then Micah will continuously asks if you'd like to sit on his lap. Of course he flirts with you but he's a lot sweeter than normal and tells you that you could definitely do better than him so he understands if you reject him.

John

John comes out of his shell when he's drunk. Instead of keeping his mouth shut, he says whatever he thinks of. Yeah he gets into more fights cause he doesn't know when to stop talking.

He can fall asleep anywhere and at any time. You could be chatting with him by the campfire and slowly feel him lean against your shoulder as he starts to softly snore. He once fell asleep while standing up right with one of his hands on a barrel for support.

When John tries to go to sleep when he's drunk, he's like a kid trying to go to sleep at a sleepover. John loudly says the most random words and makes random noises before he bursts out laughing, thinking it's the funniest thing in the world.

If John has a crush on you and he's drunk, he tries to be so helpful. He constantly asks you if you need anything. If you ask him to get you something then he walks a few feet away before completely forgetting what you asked for.

Bill

Let's be real, Bill's already a hothead when he's sober and he's exactly the same when he's drunk. He's very fast to start a fight but if someone lands one punch then that's Bill done for the night. Usually he's a better fighter but he has terrible balance when he's been drinking.

He tries to be productive when he's drunk, thinking that now's the perfect time to do some chores and to go on guard duty. Everyone knows better than to leave Bill go out on watch when he's like this. One time he tried to shoot a squirrel cause he thought it was going to run into camp.

Bill rambles a lot too, mainly telling stories from when he was in the army or reminiscing about different robberies he's done with the gang.

Bill can get really anxious so if y'all are in a relationship, he needs your comfort. His mind starts racing and he worries about little things so for you to be there and tell him everything is alright truly means a lot to him.  

Javier

Javier gets very goofy when he's drunk. He's keeps things light hearted, joking about things but is still able to hold his tongue when needed and have proper conversations too.

Honestly, Javier is probably one of the most level headed people in comparison to the rest of the gang but because he tends to stumble and get his words mixed up, people presume he's completely wasted when he's had a few to drink.

This man LIVES for those 2am deep and meaningful conversations. He absolutely adores having them and being drunk helps him open up more about his feelings so he has no problem expressing his emotions.

Are you ready to be swept off of your feet, both metaphorically and maybe literally depending on if you'll leave Javier do that? He's such a hopeless romantic when he's drunk. If camp is near a field or woodland then he sneaks off, picks some flowers and shyly gives them to you.

Sean

Sean manages to go through every mood when he's drunk. Everything is funny to him and he tries to make jokes about whatever comes to mind. Usually he jokes about Bill and Micah which leads to one of them arguing with Sean.

That's when Sean gets angry and thinks he's able to knock out anyone with one punch. Normally he ends up accidentally walking into a table or tripping over himself cause of how focused he is at punching the air.

Then Sean gets all sad and sentimental, feeling sorry for himself cause he accidentally bruised his leg. He has no problem sitting on the ground and pouting for a while, hoping that someone will walk past and give him some attention for a while.

If y'all are dating then Sean will tell you over and over again how much you mean to him and how much he loves you. He just wants to cling on to you for the night and make sure you know how loved you are.

Hosea

I hope you're sitting comfortably cause Hosea's gonna tell you every single goddamn story he can think of. Hosea tells you funny stories, sad stories, how he first met John and how he conned rich people. He really likes to reminisce when he's drunk.

Towards the end of the night, Hosea eventually gets quiet and if there's a party at camp where everyone is celebrating, then he goes off by the outskirts for a while.

Hosea likes to sit back and watch as everyone enjoys the night. He can get very sentimental when he does this but he likes to enjoy the little moments of the night and savour it all.

If he’s sweet on you then Hosea makes sure you know how special you are and that you deserve the best. He doesn't necessarily flirt with you but instead wants you to know how great you are.

Sadie

When Sadie drinks, she gets sad. She doesn't mean to get sad but her mind wanders and she thinks a lot about everything that's happened in her life and how she's ended up where she is today.

She doesn't speak a lot and ends up getting stuck in her head with thoughts whirling around and around. It can get overwhelming which is why she isn't that keen on getting completely wasted on alcohol.

She doesn't like how crowded camp can get so instead she likes to go off and find a nice scenic area to rest. Normally that helps calm her mind but Sadie also gets sleepy by then too.

If Sadie likes you and feels comfortable around you then she leans against you as ye both sit there in a peaceful silence. And if you suggest it, then she'll hesitantly rest her head on your lap and fall asleep as you play with her hair.

Kieran

Kieran doesn't get drunk often. He hates waking up the next morning and wondering if he pissed anyone off or said something he shouldn't have.

He's very happy when he's drunk, only seeing the positives in things and always smiling. Kieran is still a little shy but he's more open to being involved with what the gang's doing, whether that be singing along to some songs or dancing with whoever to Dutch's gramophone.  

Because of how involved he can become with the gang when he's drunk, he can get involved in a few fights or arguments. But contrary to popular belief, Kieran doesn't back down and makes sure to get his points across.

Kieran gets more confident after a few drinks and flirts with you more than usual. The more accepting you are to his comments, the more he flirts with you. Though if you flirt back then he gets very flustered.

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

Hawkmoon

Stalk thy prey and let loose thy talons upon the Darkness.

Type: Handcannon

Slot: Kinetic | Energy | Heavy

Element: Kinetic | Stasis | Strand

Perk: Paracausal Shot - Final blows and precision hits with Hawkmoon grant stacks of Paracausal Charge. The final round in the magazine deals bonus damage based on the number of stacks. Stowing Hawkmoon on the final round removes this bonus.

Trait: Transformative - Future drops of this weapon will have random rolls.

Ornaments: On Ashen Wings, Feeling Lucky, Austroraptor

Origin & Description: Darkness likes to talk. Or at least its suspected avatar, this Entity, the Voice in the Darkness that attends the Pyramid Fleet, likes to talk. It has to borrow shapes to do it - our Ghost's voice, our own form - but given any chance it'll coax, cajole, bargain, tempt, and generally refuse to shut up. The Traveler, on the other hand, believes that the best voices never let themselves be heard at all, which sounds very profound but from a results standpoint it could stand to talk a little louder.

When the Traveler first arrived it didn't explicitly announce itself. Instead a few people discovered they had a special sympathy with it, communing with it in lucid dreams. They received emotions, impressions, and images they then proclaimed to others - like a prophet except if god only talked in charades. These individuals acted as what Guardians would later call the Speaker to the Traveler. More generally the Traveler influenced the intellectual development of humanity like the Darkness antenna in the K1 Anomaly, inspiring leaps of genius and understanding. But it can speak to an individual if it focuses hard and hopes that individual understands the vision they receive. When it does do so it uses a common set of images for itself, among them a wolf, a star, a gardener, and a wandering bird, while Darkness appears as a tidal wave, a bitterness, a whirlwind, and a knife. We get "wandering bird" for the opening of Destiny 2's Red War campaign, where your Guardian, newly-Lightless and fleeing the Red Legion's conquest of the City, follows a spectral, glowing hawk.* They stumble through the wilderness to reach first Suraya Hawthorne, then the Shard of the Traveler (one of many pieces cracked off it during Darkness' first assault), where we reclaim enough of its relic Light to get back into the war.

* Canonically the Red War took at least three months, so since we don't know where the Last City is, that metaphorical soaring hawk might have abstracted a multi-week hike by our Guardian to the Shard's location in old Europe.

Fast forward to Year 4 of Destiny 2, and the Traveler's pulled itself back together (literally). While not anywhere near its old power levels, it's awake once more and fighting through its hangover to get things into a semblance of order. And after waking up, it's decided to talk to Crow. Why Crow? Well, the Traveler maybe likes birds, and it definitely likes redemption stories, or at least "casting off your old self to make a new life" stories, and it probably feels like Crow could use a friend (correct). Now that the poor guy is trying to reckon with how Guardians all seem to hate him but he also has no past life to go back to so what should he even do, the Traveler has dusted off the avian metaphors to cheer him up. Crow dreams of soaring over multiple locations as a bird, and when we visit those locations we find golden paracausal feathers of Light that lead to our old glowing bird-buddy.

The hawk leads us in a sort-of-haunted pilgrimage through the EDZ in the Harbinger mission, ending at a minor shard of the Traveler with an effigy of Hawkmoon at its base - it looks like the old Hawkmoon, but it's actually made from the freaky electroweak matter that comprises the Traveler's outer shell. We charge it up with Light through various quest activities, then fight our way back through Savathun's Taken (who are of course after any source of Light) to bring the "completed" gun back to the little shard and have it turn it into a real working Hawkmoon. Along the way Crow works through his baggage and ultimately concludes that it doesn't matter who he used to be, he's a Lightbearer now. Just in time for Season of the Lost to bring him face to face with his erstwhile sister, y'know, the Queen of the Reef. So I'm sure he'll be fine!

The original D1 Hawkmoon wasn't much of anything lorewise - a useful, lovely weapon, but one with a literal one-sentence-long Grimoire card - probably because it was a Playstation-exclusive weapon for the first year after launch. It had two overlapping damage buffs, Holding Aces and Luck in the Chamber, which would pick two or one rounds respectively out of its 13-round magazine and give them significant bonus damage. If you were extremely lucky the bonuses could even overlap on one round, making it hit absurdly hard - a one-hit kill on a full-health Guardian in PvP. That made it a real killer in D1 Crucible, though to be fair handcannons in general were OP AF there (some things never change).

In D2 Bungie wanted less randomness and more rewarding of skill, so instead the weapon accumulates stacks of Paracausal Charge on kills or precision hits. That charge is always expended on the last round in the 7-round magazine (10 with catalyst, also found in the Harbinger mission). More stacks of Paracausal Charge, more damage. Complete the catalyst and Paracausal Charge will also help out your reload speed, handling, and range. That final charged round gets fired with a hawk's-cry sound effect and a glowing pulse along the engraved feathers of the barrel; and, if you've stacked up a full magazine's worth of Paracausal Charge, quite a bit of damage. Accumulating charge on precision hits as well as kills makes it surprisingly useful for bosses who stand still; like Polaris Lance you can find a good spot and just empty Hawkmoon rounds into the crit spot with regular bursts of bonus damage.

If the Traveler got to design the base appearance of shining silver with engraved feathers, Darkness got to design the ornament On Ashen Wings. I would have shelled out for it if I used Hawkmoon enough to justify it, but, y'know. Handcannons. Feeling Lucky gives it a realistic magnum look (I think? I'm assuming here. I don't pay a lot of attention to real guns.) Austroraptor is also more realistic but Cooler because it comes with a laser pointer and a weird hooked claw on the pommel resembling that of its namesake, the rather nasty dinosaur genus Austroraptor. Never forget that birds are tiny dinosaurs, you guys. Never forget.

Destiny 2 Compendium Armarum Exoticarum

[ Ace of Spades | Ager's Scepter | Anarchy | Arbalest | Bad Juju | Bastion | Black Talon | Borealis | Cerberus+1 | The Chaperone | Cloudstrike | Coldheart | Collective Obligation | The Colony | Crimson | Cryosthesia 77K | DARCI | Dead Man's Tale | Deathbringer | Dead Messenger | Devil's Ruin | Divinity | Duality | Edge of Action/Concurrence/Intent | Eriana’s Vow | Eyes of Tomorrow | Fighting Lion | The Fourth Horseman | Forerunner | Gjallarhorn | Grand Overture | Graviton Lance | Hard Light | Hawkmoon | Heartshadow | Heir Apparent | The Huckleberry | Izanagi’s Burden | The Jade Rabbit | Jötunn | The Lament | The Last Word | Legend of Acrius | Leviathan’s Breath | Lord of Wolves | Lorentz Driver | Lumina | Malfeasance | Merciless | MIDA Multi-Tool | Le Monarque | Monte Carlo | No Time to Explain | One Thousand Voices | Osteo Striga | Outbreak Perfected | Parasite | Polaris Lance | Prometheus Lens | The Prospector | Queenbreaker | Rat King | Riskrunner | Ruinous Effigy | Salvation's Grip | Skyburner’s Oath | Sleeper Simulant | Sturm | Sunshot | SUROS Regime | Sweet Business | Symmetry | Tarrabah | Telesto | Thorn | Thunderlord | Ticuu's Divination | Tommy's Matchbook | Tractor Cannon | Traveler's Chosen | Trespasser | Trinity Ghoul | Truth | Two-Tailed Fox | Vex Mythoclast | Vigilance Wing | The Wardcliff Coil | Wavesplitter | Whisper of the Worm | Wish-Ender | Witherhoard | Worldline Zero | Xenophage ]

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Silent Treatment (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Naomi decides that if Ethan isn’t going to treat her like a valued member of the team, she’ll teach him a little lesson.

Based on chapter 1, some spoilers for chapter 2, and my own speculation, so read at your own risk.

I highkey hate this but I’m posting it anyway

~v~

Naomi is quiet. No, she is unusually quiet. Ethan has seen her get silent when it’s time to buckle down and focus on a task, or if something is weighing heavily on her, but at this point he knows her well enough to know it’s neither of those. She’s withdrawn, and he doesn’t understand why.

Her presence is hard to miss, the young resident has enough charm and charisma in her pinky finger to dazzle an entire room. And she’s never this quiet. Naomi demands to be heard at all times. With unapologetic vivacity. With her hands. Eyes sparkling when she gets an idea, or fiery when she needs to dig her toes into something and fight. Nothing about Naomi Valentine is ever subdued, so why the hell is she so silent?

She didn’t speak much during the last few team meetings. He and Harper have led all of the conversations, bouncing ideas back and forth, building off of each other’s ideas. Occasionally, Naomi would offer input, merely to agree or disagree with a theory, before going back into her shell.

It’s even bleeding into their personal life. For the better part of the past 3 months, she’s stayed with him, the two of them holed up in his apartment in the Back Bay, but now she’s opting to stay at her own place. It’s been going on a few days now, this random despondence, and Ethan isn’t a fan of it. He’d take it a step further and say it's driving him crazy. This isn’t the woman he’s known for the past two years, even at her lowest was she never this reclusive.

As he walks down the halls of Edenbrook, he spots Naomi, her personality back to what it once was. She’s with Ines at a vending machine, and Naomi wastes no time animatedly talking to the now attending about a fun date she went on with her girlfriend.

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Ethan swallows thickly as he listens to her talk. He’s missed the sound of her voice, the affectionate way her strong accent curls around her ‘r’s’ and dramatically elongates her ‘o’s’. It becomes clear that she’s willing to talk, just not to him. Ethan doesn’t like that idea at all, but it’s the only one that makes sense. And if that’s the case, he needs to get to the bottom of things and remedy the situation.

“Naomi, can we talk please?” He asks once Ines is no longer in their presence.

He doesn’t miss the way she bristles upon hearing his voice. But Naomi nods anyway. “Sure, what’s wrong?”

“Can we talk in the office?”

The walk back to the seventh floor is marked with awkward silence as Naomi refuses to initiate conversation with him. The more time ticks on, the more anxiety settles in Ethan’s chest. What’s going on with her that she refuses to divulge?

The office is unoccupied when they arrive, as Harper has already gone home for the evening. Naomi stands by the door, opting not to settle into a seat or even move further into the room. Everything about her body language reads that she’s poised and ready to strike at any given moment. He frowns. She’s never been this defensive against him, at least when they’re not in the middle of an argument. “What’s going on?”

“Are you okay?”

The question catches Naomi off guard. She blinks slowly before shrugging in nonchalance. “I’m fine, Ethan.”

“You’re fine? Really?”

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be fine?”

“Not really, but you haven’t been acting like yourself recently.”

Because you’ve been quieter than a church mouse for the past few days. You don’t talk during meetings, you’re silent when we interact with the patients, it’s like you’ve completely tuned out.”

With the way he’s been acting, Naomi is almost shocked that he even realized what she’s been doing. Wow, so maybe the great Ethan Ramsey hasn’t lost his attention to detail.

“Oh, so you’ve actually noticed?”

“I’m a diagnostician, I notice everything,” Ethan deadpans. He can feel the sarcasm wafting off of her. “What, was this an intentional act for my attention?”

“Intentional, yes. But for your attention? Not necessarily,” Naomi answers.

His eyes narrow at her, his gaze near piercing. She’s playing some sort of childish game with him, first with not speaking and now with the vague half answers. “Okay, so walk me through your thought process. Why has the cat stolen your tongue?”

“I decided that if my input wasn’t going to be valued during team discussions, I might as well not speak at all.”

Ethan gapes at her, confused. Where did that come from? “Naomi, what on earth are you talking about? When have I ever not valued your input?”

“I’m talking about the fact that for the past two cases, I’ve stood on the sidelines while you’ve either cut me off mid-sentence to talk over me, or ignore my presence altogether. I might as well blend into the wall.”

“That’s not–”

Naomi doesn’t give him the chance to refute.  “Please spare me the attempt at arguing. Last week, Harper’s first day on the team, you literally had to circle back to me because you cut me off while I was speaking. And now, we’re working on a case, and you and Harper aren’t even taking this patient seriously! I’ve had to redirect the conversation and tell you guys to focus, because you two were too busy acting like bosom buddies, sharing anecdotes about hangovers, and stupid flamenco lessons, and dates you went on in the past, which is not only inappropriate and disrespectful to the patient’s time, it’s disrespectful to me.”

“So either you are completely oblivious, which I find hard to believe for someone as astute as you are, or you have no respect for me, not just as your colleague, but as the woman you claim to be in a relationship with,” Naomi continues. The floodgates have been opened and now that she’s started, she can’t stop herself. “And maybe it’s the latter, because I set that standard. I’ve let you go days, weeks, months without speaking to me with zero consequence, I’ve let you shut me out and slam doors in my face, make snide comments last year when we were treating Leland, I’ve let you have carte blanche over the pace of this relationship. I’ve always just been here and allowed your shitty social graces and piss poor communication skills to rule, and time and time again, you’ve gone unscathed, but now I’m just really tired of it.”

For the first time in a long, Ethan doesn’t have a clue what to say, and as always, Naomi is the woman who puts him in this position.

“Naomi, you can’t possibly think that I think so little of you.”

He can tell by the way her eyes darken that he put his entire foot in his mouth just now. The warning bells go off in his brain, and he scrambles to think of how he can correct this latest blunder.

Naomi bites down on her lip, and she’s actually shocked her mouth isn’t instantly flooded with the metallic taste of blood. She’s getting Punk’d obviously. The office is bugged, and Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out and announce his presence soon. That has to be it. Ethan has to be pranking her, because there’s no way a 38 year old man could ever be so dense, right? Surely his response to her grievances isn’t to dismiss her claims.

“You know what? You’re being obtuse, and we clearly aren’t getting anywhere, so I’m going to cut this conversation off now.”

She refuses to look like the psycho in this scenario and breathe any more life into this argument, and she’s not about to plead her case any further like she’s the one in the wrong.

Ethan’s eyes soften, and he takes a step forward, arms outstretched to touch, soothe whatever hurts he’s heaped upon her, but Naomi sidesteps, moving out of his reach.

If he wasn’t nervous at the start of this conversation, he is now. If the physical act of Naomi blatantly refusing to touch him wasn’t clear enough, the metaphorical chasm between the two of the just widened by a few yards as well. A chill races up and down the length of his spine.

“Naomi, I’m sorry,” Ethan says gently. “I…” His words taper off and he pauses, struggling for what he wants to say next. This has never been his strong point, being vulnerable.

And Naomi doesn’t offer him a lifeline. She’s not going to give him an out or assuage him of anything he’s currently feeling like she usually does. She’s laid out all of her cards, and things are in Ethan’s court at this point. Like always. 

“I’m going home,” she announces. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~v~

The sun is barely out when Naomi shows up for work in the morning. Most of the hospital is still, the last of the night shift heading out as she’s on her way in. She heads towards the residents’ lounge, wanting to put her things away before checking in on her patients and having a team meeting.

As soon as she opens her locker, she spots a gorgeous bouquet of red roses wrapped in newspaper invading the space. There’s no note attached to the bouquet, and she spared a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else is there. The lounge is empty, save for another resident in the corner, sleeping.

Naomi takes the bouquet out of her locker, careful not to smash the petals and holds it up to her nose, inhaling deeply. 

Deciding to not put more thought into where they came from, Naomi simply cradles the bouquet in the crook of one of her arms, stuffs her bag into her locker, and continues on with her morning routine.

She’s passing by the nurses’ station on the 7th floor when someone catches her attention. “Oh Dr. Valentine! You have a special delivery.”

Her steps slow down as she approaches the front desk where Sarah, one of her favorite RNs is stationed. Sarah steps aside, revealing an even larger bouquet of roses, these ones white.

“Where did these come from?” Naomi asks.

“They were delivered about half an hour ago,” Sarah replies with a wink. “No note, though. I won’t let Dr. Ramsey know that you have a secret admirer.”

And that’s when it clicks into place. Memories of her fight with Ethan come flooding back, and it becomes clear that he’s the one gifting her these flowers. Before she even realizes she’s doing it, her eyes roll. If he thinks a couple of bouquets of roses are a good enough apology, he can think again.

Naomi plucks a white rose right from the center of the bouquet and hands it to Sarah. “For you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I insist,” Naomi says. “Happy Friday, Sarah.”

“Thank you, Dr. Valentine!”

Seeing the smile on the senior nurse’s face is almost enough to cleanse Naomi of the annoyance she feels towards Ethan in this moment. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Naomi manages to scoop up this new batch of flowers – they’re in a vase, to which she adds her red ones – and finishes her trek to the office.

She isn’t expecting it to be covered in bunches of bright yellow sunflowers.

Their communal desk is covered in them, along with Ethan’s personal desk and the couch. “What on earth was he thinking?”

“I was thinking that sunflowers are your favorite flower,” Ethan answers, and Naomi jumps, startled at his voice. She whips around and sees him standing in the doorway. “And so I got up well before the sun was shining, went to the Boston Flower Exchange and bought every single one I could get my hands on.”

“And the roses?”

“White is supposed to be symbolic of new beginnings and forgiveness,” Ethan explains. “And you simply can’t go wrong with red.”

“If you think buying me flowers is going to cut it, you must not know me well,” Naomi says. Him buying her things doesn’t impress her, no matter how much she jokes about his money.

“No, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Ethan takes a cautious step into the room, shutting the door behind him. A sleepless night without her beside him forced Ethan to do a lot of thinking about how he wanted this conversation to go. A peace offering is always a good start. “And it got you to talk to me.”

Naomi scoffs and sets her flowers down. “Barely.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I’m an idiot, and an asshole.”

“It’s good that we can agree on something.”

Okay, it’s clear that she is not going to give him any leeway. “You were absolutely right to call me out on my behavior towards you.”

“Why did you do it?” Naomi asks.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Ethan says simply. “I got so caught up in having Harper on the team, and it’s easy to slip back into old habits without even realizing.”

“It wasn’t a simple one time thing. It was more than once that you and Harper completely forgot I was even there. And I like Harper, I don’t think I could respect her more than I already do, and I have a very healthy sense of self esteem, but even the toughest person on earth wouldn’t like being in my shoes, on the outside looking in while you and your ex reminisce on old dates and inside stories. Ethan, you couldn’t handle a modicum of the shit I have willingly put up with in order to be with you.”

His stomach knots up at the thought of an ex-boyfriend of Naomi’s coming into his personal space, sharing personal jokes with her, ignoring him, and monopolizing her time. If the thought of it had him this twisted, he can’t believe he’s been putting her through that reality.

“You were right to call me out on my bad communication skills. I am terrible at relationships. I’m not using it as an excuse, it’s just the truth. But I’ve gotten complacent, which is unacceptable.” Ethan takes another step towards Naomi, and when she doesn’t instantly recoil, he takes it as a sign to get even closer. “The last thing I ever want to do is stifle your voice, or make you feel invisible. Naomi, you are...invaluable. To this hospital, to this team, to me, and I am so sorry that there was ever a time where I made you feel like you weren’t. You are the most important person in my life, and what we have is something I’ve never had with anyone else.”

“Okay, so start acting like it,” Naomi challenges. “I’m your equal and I demand every bit of respect you have to offer. Anything less than that cannot be tolerated anymore, personally or professionally.”

Ethan nods emphatically at her words. “Of course.”

“I mean it.”

“You have my word, Naomi. I’ll never let it happen again.” He closes the gap between them and cups her face in his hand. “Just please...never give me the silent treatment again. Yell from the rooftops, argue with me, I don’t care, but I can’t take not hearing your voice.”

“You needed to be taught a lesson,” Naomi says simply.

“I learned my lesson, and I hated it,” Ethan confesses, his lips dangerously close to hers. Naomi doesn’t budge, not even an inch. She’s terribly stubborn, even at the end of a fight. “It was torture.”

“Good.” Deciding to put him out of his misery, Naomi tilts her head up and captures Ethan in a kiss. He doesn’t waste a single second returning it. His free hand wraps around the small of her back, pulling her in closer. How did he go this long without touching her?

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, but he finally breaks apart from her long enough to bury his face in her neck, allowing her scent and soft skin to soothe any of his fraught nerves. She smells like home.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Ethan asks.

“The jury is still out on that one.”

“You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Are you up for the challenge?”

Ethan untangles himself from their embrace and takes a step back, so he’s able to look Naomi in the eyes. He takes her hand and presses a soft kiss into her palm. “For you? I’ll do just about anything.”

~v~

Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list, or if I tagged you by accident!

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[cicadaland]

because a mutual posted about it i am also reading welcome home alice and she was right it REALLY IS quite odd but once I got over the initial discomfort I think I’m starting to understand it more. it’s very thought provoking!! I wonder if the trans girl and the cis guy are like a metaphor for what someone who is experimenting with gender might have going on internally. like for example the main boy is like 100% repression kind of?? he is literally always nervous and embarrassed whereas the blonde one is always incredibly confident and forward. So maybe they’re like two halves of a whole, kind of? i feel like both kei and the other guy are trans actually kei is like??? supposed to represent the euphoria of accepting yourself and just the knowledge about gender stuff is enough to keep chipping away at the shell the main guy builds to try to hide himself from these ideas. IDK i’m just musing hopefully this is understandable

[nighthaikyuu]

heartbreak hours

— synopsis: various scenarios of heartbreak between y/n and haikyuu boys 

— characters included: kuroo, timeskip!oikawa, ushijima, timeskip!atsumu, 

— genres: angst angst angst!

kuroo

watching your best friend who you are in love with, fall in love w someone else

you wouldn’t wish this upon anyone else. 

even your worst enemy. 

you stood there by the gates, biting back the tears that threatened to spill as kenma beside you gave you a look of pity, knowing well that you were trying to put on the bravest face you possibly could. 

you didn’t know how kuroo kept breaking your heart; after what seemed like months, you thought there had been nothing left to break. but clearly that wasn’t the case as you felt the sharp ache in your chest return, watching as his face flushed deeply, leaning in towards the girl who stood in front of him. 

the first time was unlike no other; your body went completely still, the rush of your blood drumming in your ears as your brain slowly comprehended the words that came out of kuroo’s mouth. 

“so guys...remember mina? we did that chem project together? well, I think I kinda like her...” 

eyes widening, your gaze snapped up from your phone to kuroo’s face and oh did you regret it almost immediately. rubbing the back of his neck, he gave you a lopsided grin as a soft blush spread across the boy’s cheeks, a completely rare sight for someone who always appeared so cocky and confident. 

you wondered how kuroo didn’t notice then. just how the light completely left your eyes. just how your face went ghost white, hands trembling at your sides as you sat there, heart shattering piece by piece. 

months later and there you were, an empty shell of who you once used to be. days and weeks went by hearing about mina this! mina that! and every time you listened, despite each word only shoving the knife deeper and deeper into your already bleeding heart. 

but you were tired. 

turning around, you let the tears fall freely, choking back a sob. you felt Kenma’s hand on your back, patting you in soft reassurance yet you only cried harder. 

“w-why couldn’t it have been me?”

oikawa

watching yourself grow distant with your s/o

slowly stirring your coffee with one hand, you stared outside the window as you watched the snow peacefully fall from the sky. bringing the cup to your mouth, you blew gently before taking a small sip, the sweet liquid tricking down your throat. 

a soft ding! broke your trance, your eyes falling on your phone beside you. 

[oikawa_tooru just posted a photo]

pressing your finger to the home button, you click the notification as instagram pulls up. within seconds you were met with a smiling oikawa, his arms wrapped around his teammates as they appeared to be at the beach. looking at the location tag, you realized he was in Brazil. 

what used to bring a soft smile to your face as you’d take in the love of you life, instead you felt a deep sadness wash over you, lips tugging into a frown. 

he hadn’t told you he was going to Brazil. 

clicking the lock button, you turned your phone face down before turning your attention back towards the window as you continued to stare emptily at the streets and the people who inhabited them. 

a certain couple caught your eye. both of them wearing their school uniforms, one you immediately recognized as aoba johsai’s, you watched as they walked hand-in-hand, the girl laughing at something the boy had said. stopping in front of the bus stop, the boy suddenly unwrapped the scarf around his neck before turning to his girlfriend and placing it around hers. face flushing, she looked away shyly before giving him an embarrassed smile, her mouth mouthing a warm thank you. 

tears pricked the corners of your eyes. you wanted to look away, look away from the scene that unfolded before you that so achingly felt familiar; the way their eyes sparkled, fingertips within constant grasp, cheeks a soft flush of red. 

before you knew it, a certain wetness washed over your cheeks as your chest tightened. blinking, you felt the tears escape your eyes as you sat there, still and unmoving. 

by the time you took another sip of your coffee, it had gotten too cold. 

you almost let out a bitter laugh. 

oh, how metaphorical. 

you and oikawa loved like fire. every single second of every single day was filled with so much love, that literally nothing would be able to put it out. 

until he decided to go to argentina. 

the devil in you didn’t want him to go. you wanted him here, to yourself, by your side. but you could never do that to him. so you told him to go for it, you told him you’d be here waiting and supporting him. 

and so he did. 

the both of you tried. but with your studies and his practice, plus the time difference and a million other uncalculated things, daily phone calls became weekly, weekly facetimes became monthly, and coming back home suddenly didn’t seem like it was going to happen. 

and just like that, with nobody to tend to the weakening fire, the heat sizzled out, replaced with a coldness like no other. 

you placed the cup back down, your grip tightening as the bitter taste of the coffee stung your throat. turning back to look at your phone, you reached out to grab it, barely noticing the way your hands shook as they did so. 

pulling up your messages, before you knew it, your fingers began typing a message you knew was long coming. 

[6:27] you: hey tooru, we need to talk. 

ushijima

watching your s/o fall out of love with you

looking down at you shoes, it took every bit of strength in you not to cry. 

turning around, hands trembling at your sides, you simply nodded before weakly whispering, “okay.” 

please leave, I have more important things to do

I have more important things to do....

more important...

the words echoed through your mind as you walked out of the gym, lips trembling as you sniffled. staring up at the sky, you blinked repeatedly, forcing the tears to just go away but as your mind played the words for you like a broken tape recorder, again and again and again. 

the tears only fell faster. 

brushing them away with the back of your hand, you slowly walked back to dorm as the last few weeks played like a painful movie in your head. 

one. 

“do you want to watch a movie, toshi?” you asked him, pushing yourself up with your elbow as you laid across his bed. 

pausing the video on his laptop, he responded shortly, “no, not really.” before clicking play again, his eyes not even once moving away from the screen. 

“oh, okay.” you said dejectedly to yourself, a frown appearing on your face as you realized he didn’t even hear just how upset you sounded. getting up from his bed, you walked over to the door. turning around slightly, you let out a scoff as he continued to watch the video, gaze unwavering. 

two.

frowning, you stared at your messages in disappointment. scrolling through the number of birthday texts you received from several of the other volleyball members, your classmates and relatives, your eyes were only looking for one specific name. 

and it didn’t show up. 

“he probably went to bed early...” you reassured yourself, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

the next morning when you woke up, you grabbed your phone in excitement hoping to see the text message you so earnestly waited for all night, yet the second you clicked on your messages, it looked the same as it did last night. 

nothing. 

three. 

“how was your day today—?” you started when you heard him sigh softly, muttering words under his breath that you couldn’t hear. 

turning your head to look at him, eyes slightly wide, he finally muttered, “let’s just not talk today, okay? I'm not in the mood.” 

“oh...” your brows furrowed in concern, “did something happen—?”

“did you not hear what I just said y/n?” he asked sharply. 

gulping, you nodded before averting your gaze to the ground. 

you didn’t know why it took you so long to realize it. but it finally hit you like a shit ton of bricks, each one breaking your heart into a million little pieces. 

the light you used to see in his eyes whenever he looked at you, had disappeared. 

ushijima changed. 

and so did his love for you. 

atsumu

watching your s/o cheat on you

with a click of the door, you heard him walk inside, his usual endearing words echoing through the room until his eyes fell on you. 

“what’s going on here—?” 

“was I not enough?” you whispered quietly from the couch, your grip on the suitcase handle tightening. 

“wait, what?” 

you closed your eyes together as you took in a shaky breath. the images ran through your mind; her lips on his, his hands on hers, their bodies molded together. 

placing your phone on the coffee table face up, you watched as he walked over to where you were, his confused gaze finally falling on the picture you had pulled up on your phone. 

his eyes widened in horror as the realization dawned upon him, his pupils shaking, “Wait, that’s not what it looks like. I can expla—” 

lifting your hand up, you said coldly, “there is nothing to explain. I'm afraid the pictures do enough of that atsumu.” 

getting up from the couch, you grabbed the suitcase that sat beside you, filled with all the clothes and trinkets that belonged to you that you had thrown together in the little time you had left before Atsumu came back. 

“y/n, please. let’s talk this out—” atsumu pleaded softly, his hand circling your wrist. 

flinching at his touch, you pulled your wrist back before turning to look at the boy before you whose eyes widened as for the first time that night, he really looked at you. 

your bloodshot eyes stared at him in quiet rage, fists tightening at your sides as you struggled to find the words to say. you wanted to cry. you wanted to scream. most of all, you wanted to know why. 

but you knew it would break you. 

“fuck off atsumu.” 

turning back around, you made your way towards the door when you atsumu moved in front of you, blocking your path with his body, “please don’t go. please.”

“move.”

before you could take another step, atsumu wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you to chest, caging you in. 

“atsumu—” you started, voice cracking as the tears you held in slipped past your eyes, staining his shirt as you felt his grip around you tighten. 

no. you couldn't do this. you couldn’t let him do this to you. 

gathering every ounce of strength left in you, you pushed him back. your hand remained on his chest in efforts to create distance between the both of you. looking up, you saw his eyes flood with tears as he stared at you painfully, “y/n, please—” 

“atsumu?” you whisper softly, the boy in front of you nodding furiously, “y-yes? what is it?” 

your hand made its way up to his cheek, cradling his face as your thumb slowly swiped away the tear that had escaped his eyes, your own eyes welling up again. 

“don’t keep overworking yourself, alright? and if you need anything, you know Osamu’s only a call away right?” 

atsumu’s heart stopped, “y/n, what—?”

“mm and I wasn’t able to really get everything so, um, if you can put whatever isn’t yours in a box for me, I’ll have Suna pick them up for me.” 

“y-y/n.” 

“also, stop eating out so much. you know it’s not healthy and you need the right nutrients so you can keep playing volleyball, you understand?”

“y/n! please—!” 

"oh and—” you leaned in, resting your forehead against his. closing your eyes, you pressed your lips to his, the kiss tasting like both of your tears as you pulled away. 

“I hope you’ll be happy.” you whispered, your voice trembling with each word. 

grabbing your suitcase, you stepped out of atsumu’s weak grip before moving past him and towards the door. hand resting on the doorknob, you said your final words, “goodbye atsumu.”

and then you were gone. 

general taglist: @cinnamonrusts @postsfromthe6 @lady-snavely @02hhsailor@killuaking @rae0fsunshine1317 @sugawaaras @voids-universe @yams046@visaintes @simpforsaeko @honeybacon @kuroosbabie @verblueht @captain-janeway

character-specific taglist: @mkkhaikyuu @bluelightningxiii @ushiwakasvball  @findityourselffsworld​

[derekmorganscrocs]

Last Summer: Ace x Reader (OneShot)

Here’s an adorable Ace gif for you because I love him.

Word Count: 2, 064

Summary: You and Ace are best friends but it turns into something more.

Quick Note: This is the first thing I’ve written that I’ve fully finished and am posting so I’m like freakin our right now. Also this isn’t my usual style but I’m super happy with how it turned out and I hope you (anyone who reads this) likes it! I’m considering a series but I also have several other things in the works, so it might not be soon. Anyways, let’s get this show on the road!

Ace and Y/n. Best friends since they could walk. Inseparable through elementary, middle, and high school. Where do we start?

To be honest, there’s not a lot to explain. You and Ace kind of just... were. It made sense. Best friends, always had the other’s back. You both work at the Claw, you’re both a little burnt out and worn down, but still clever and funny. Everything always made sense.

You always joke, laugh, and do stupid shit together. You’ve bailed him out of trouble more times than you can count. He’s done the same for you. He’s your favourite person, you’re his.

And you’ve been in love with each other forever. Except neither one of you can tell that the other loves you back. So we’re at a roadblock.

You got weird when Ace dated Laura back in the day.

Ace got weird when you dated James, the biker dude in high school.

You got weird when Ace started crushing on Bess.

Ace got weird when you mentioned that Ryan Hudson was hot in a douchebag kind of way.

Summer was different though. Had you known it’d be your last summer before you spotted Dead Lucy, saw Tiffany Hudson’s ghost, were introduced to the spirit world, and started doing seances and rituals every other day, you may have appreciated it more. But oh well, right?

Not right. The start of summer was when you started realizing you couldn’t go on the way you were, but that you also couldn’t live without Ace. So how do you confess? You don’t.

A couple weeks go by before you start to notice the way Ace looks at you, how he always stands just a little closer than anyone else does. How he puts himself between you and the guys that ogle you as the two of you walk to the pier. The way his jaw clenches when someone cute hits on you. His hand always right beside yours, and you wonder if he gets the urge to grab your hand like you do his.

And by the end of June, you’re this weird something. Not just friends, you’ve both seen the way the other stares. But it’s unspoken. You don’t know if you can bring yourself to tell him. He doesn’t know if he can bear the risk of losing you.

Don’t get it twisted, despite the buried feelings you and Ace are the best pair of best friends anyone in Horseshoe Bay has ever seen. Constantly laughing and cracking jokes, seeing who can get more tips in a day. Ace is always the one you turn to, you’re the one Ace turns to. For pretty much anything.

When July rolls around, you both get more time off. The fourth comes quickly, and you make plans to watch the fireworks from the roof of the claw. Upon climbing up at sunset, you decide to just hang out for a few hours until it’s actually time for the fireworks. You talk and joke, and you and Ace carve your initials into one of the shingles. Laying against the shingles, he only carves an A, and you ask if you’ll ever find out what his last name is.

“Maybe when you take it.”

Those are the five words that change everything. He looks up from his knife, startled at his own words. You’re frozen in place as the sky finally reaches its full darkness. And the first boom grabs your attention. You look over in the direction of the beach, and see red sparkles in the sky. Turning back, Ace is sitting up now, both of you still shell-shocked at his joke. Was it a joke?

His knife is long gone, tucked safely in his pocket, and he grabs your face and kisses you. You kiss him back, obviously. He kisses you passionately, slowly but strongly, and fireworks erupt. Both metaphorically and literally. You both end up laying side by side on the roof, kissing and watching the fireworks. It’s the best night ever.

But it’s never made official. There’s still no blurted out confessions, and it never happens again. His eyes still dart to your lips when you speak to him, you still imagine his arms around your waist, and you both still stare longingly at the other whenever their back is turned.

Until August rolls around, a month filled with storms and fog. And death. Ryan Hudson and his goons pull up for dinner. You and Ace serve them when all the others bail, make jokes about insufferable rich people and stare at each other’s mouths, both trying to not get caught as you wish you could just have what you want.

Then the lights go out. Screaming outside from Nancy, and Tiffany Hudson is dead. You and Ace are pretty much free to go, alibis confirmed. The next day Nancy comes to you with evidence that Tiffany Hudson was killed by Lucy Sable. Dead Lucy. Oh god.

The case unfolds and you’re wrapped up in a supernatural mystery. All the while trying to figure out your very natural mystery. What the hell is going on between you and Ace? It’s normal but not, and you don’t want to lose him, but you can feel the drift starting. It’s so uncertain. For once in your life, nothing makes sense.

You cover well though. Burying your feelings is a lot easier than it should be, and you and Ace still joke and pull stupid shit all the time. George and Bess are tired of being caught in the crossfire of your pranks, Nancy would be, but the only time she’s actually noticed anything is when you shot her with a nerf gun because Ace dodged. Nick, the guy from the garage, makes his way into your crew, and takes immense amusement from you and Ace. It’s fine. Great, even.

Then in September, after Tiffany Hudson’s funeral, you go to the Claw to talk to Ace. But he’s beyond talking. He’s got his tongue in Laura Tandy’s throat. And you knew she was back in town, hell, that’s what pushed you to finally talk to Ace. Only you’re too late. You’ve wasted the summer, your summer, being afraid of losing him. Just to lose him anyways.

So you spend a miserable month pretending you’re fine and fake gagging every time him and Laura have their backs turned on you. You bitch to Bess, who’s all too keen on the drama. Nancy’s so wrapped up in the paranormal and her own love life that she’s barely bothered to notice that you’re drowning. George on the other hand... she’s supportive. Well as supportive as George can be. Mostly threatening Laura and saying she’ll fire Ace if you want her to. But you can’t do that. He may only be a dishwasher at the Claw, but he loves it. He loves being part of the team.

And then you walk in on Laura asking Ace to go to Paris with her. You nearly lose it, but manage to keep it together, hiding around the corner with a hand clamped over your mouth as tears threaten to finally spill free. When they’re out of sight, you call Bess, then George, then Nancy, all to no avail. And so you’re hyperventilating and alone, sitting on the front porch of the Claw when Nick swoops in to save you.

Of course it was Nick. The only one who doesn’t know about the whole mess with Ace. So he makes you explain and watches in horror as you refuse to let tears fall and successfully convince yourself to just not be sad. Over the next few days he turns into a brotherly figure, managing to help you realize that feelings are okay to have.

So the garage is your new hangout, and you don’t realize that Ace is actually missing you. Because the only one he wants to ask about going to France was you. Nick sends you back to work on the fourth day, you don’t want to go but he forces you. He says ‘mixing shitty Caesars is the best remedy for any amount of pain.’ It’s the first time he’d seen you laugh in a while. Actually, the first time you’d laughed in a while.

The first person you see when you walk in the diner, of course, was Ace. Sitting at the bar, staring into the wall’s soul. You manage a quiet ‘hey’, and when he turns to see you looking mostly back to normal, he nearly tackles you into a hug. He manages to restrain himself though, not sure what to do. You two never fight. Is this even a fight? How do you make up from a not-fight-fight? Instead he asks you to sit with him. You do, reluctantly, but only because he insists and you can never say no to him.

“Say the word and I’ll stay. Say you want me here and I won’t go.”

And there he goes, changing everything again. You freeze, just like on the Fourth of July, and stare at him in shock. This time though, he isn’t surprised, it’s just you who’s shell-shocked. It takes you a while to understand that he is actually saying what he’s saying, and you kind of just stare at him for a minute. Then you make your decision.

“I can’t tell you what to do. You need to make this call on your own.”

And then, you mix Caesars. And more Caesars, and more Caesars. The restaurant could be supplied for a week if it weren’t a festival day. You would’ve kept going, but what’s left in the bottom of the vodka bottle looked pretty delicious, so you down it instead. Still mostly sober, but tipsy enough to manage a smile, you patted George on the back and said goodbye before heading to the garage.

Nick makes you crash on his couch in the loft, and after a power nap and a glass of water you’re back to completely sober. Good as new. The only thing that’s missing is... your phone. You left it at the Claw earlier. Which means you have to go back. And probably see Ace again.

So back you go. You get the phone without running into anyone, but pause at the sound of voices in the dining area. Frozen in the kitchen, you watch as Ace tells Laura he’s staying. That he has a ‘purpose here. And a person.’ She tells him to miss her, which gives you mixed vibes, and leaves.

“Ace?”

“Jesus! Oh, Y/n! You’re-you’re here. Oh that’s great, you saw that. How much did you hear?”

“That you have a purpose here. And a person.”

A smile finally appears on your lips, and he reciprocates. You walk into the dining room, toward Ace. He watches your every move intently, as if he’s entranced with you. He is, because he hasn’t seen you smile since Laura came to town. And even though he’s been playing it happy, he’s been miserable. He loves Laura, he really does, but it’s more of the ‘maybe in another world’ kind of relationship.

You and Ace. That’s the ‘perfectly perfect, made for each other, soulmates, in any world’ type of relationship. Best friends to something more, with ups and down. Real. Not some whisk you off to Paris and live in a movie. Horseshoe Bay’s ugly, scary, haunted, real life.

Sitting on a barstool, back to the kitchen, you lean against the bar and look at Ace. You think about what to say. There’s so many things you could do. That you want to do.

Slap him.

Kiss him.

Throw him off the roof.

Hug him until he has to peel you off of him.

Throw a bottle at his head.

Jump into his arms, wrap your legs around his waist and stay there forever.

Stick Lucy on him to suck out his soul.

Kiss him until you run out of air.

Maybe you’ll say something instead. There’s lots of things you could say, but you’re not sure how many of them are true.

Did he really betray you by seeing Laura?

Are you grateful for this because you met Nick and gained a brother?

What would’ve happened if Laura never showed?

Are we still us?

Instead, you decide to go with something you know is the truth.

“I’m your person.”

And he smiles like he’s won the lottery.

Tags: @vexfulfun

[remmushound]

Beyond the Bay chapter 14, Seeing Ghosts (part 2)

Part 1 - https://remmushound.tumblr.com/post/659856430715764736/chapter-14-seeing-ghosts-part-1-part-2

Summary: The rest of the return home and they meet someone new

Tags: @ilo-artistry @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr

Content warning: Swears

“I heard it!” Mikey said, waving his hands around in a wide motion, “It was like BANG. Er. Hm…” Just mouthing the sound effects did not do the point justice, so Mikey stood up and wobbled over to the closest thing that looked metal, banging on it a few times to show the resounding CLANK! “Like this!”

Raph’s eyes furrowed, and then shot wide. A breath hissed through his teeth and he shook his head back and forth with a slow pace. The reaction didn't go unnoticed.

“What’s up, Big Red? You seeing ghosts too?” Leonardo asked.

Raph gave another hiss, hands coming up to scratch at his head. He bit his toothpick in half and spat both halves separately onto the floor.

Donatello followed Raph’s spit and split toothpick all the way to the floor. “I just mopped in here.”

“Yeah. I might’ve.” Raph swiped his tongue over his lips.

“This is news to me.” Leo put his hands on his hips.

Raph eyed his brother with an ‘are you serious’ look. “No the fuck it ain’t. I told you an’ dad both that sommat weird was happenin’ right before Don and Mike came home. That something was in the bathroom with me!”

Michelangelo gasped softly. “It’s a pervert ghost.”

“I knew that chastity belt would come in handy!” Donatello exclaimed. “Ain’t no pervert ghost taking my turtle-hood. Not without a fight!”

“Donnie, please stop talking.” Leonardo said quickly, and in the same breath addressed Mikey and Raph. “If he saw something, and he saw something, then… they saw something.”

“Yes, that’s how seeing things tend to work.” Donnie agreed.

“What I’m saying is that Mikey, apparently, wasn’t there when Raph had his prevent ghost encounter, and Raph wasn’t here when Mikey had his. Raph, did you tell Mikey about what you saw?”

“Nah.” Raph shook his head. “He was all… you know… seizing.”

“Then how could Mikey know about it and give the exact same account? And it’s not even in the same place! Something is here, and something is following you guys.”

“Seems like a stretch to me.” Leo crossed his arms, and though he tried to show nothing but confidence, his voice wavered as uncertainty latched upon him. 

“Your voice says otherwise.” Leonardo waved a finger.

“With all do respect, Leo, you are in our world.” Raphael said, “It doesn’t work the same as yours. Something could have gone through or…”

“I would have noticed it.” Leo flashed his teeth, “I would have senses something-- Donatello’s alarms would have picked it up!”

“Mystic stuff isn’t always so easy to detect, you know.” Donatello said, “It’s possible his tech wasn’t advanced enough to pick up on mystic traces.”

“Okay, now I’m offended.” Donnie crossed his arms.

“I speak only the truth.” Donatello stuck up his large nose.

“Guys, stop fighting!” Mikey whined.

“Who’s fighting?” Leo asked, “We’re not fighting!”

“You’re fighting with me right now!”

“No I’m not!”

“Can we not do this?” Michelangelo frowned, starting to shrink into his shell.

“I know what I saw.” Raph snarled.

“I thought it was what you didn't see.” Leo retorted.

“Heard, then!” Raph got in Leo’s face, “And Mike heard it too!”

All the arguing and shouting and pleading mixed into one near-unintelligible screaming match where just enough of each argument got through for the opposing party to make a new comeback. Through the cacophony of voices, there came a soft voice that couldn’t placed to anyone. 

“Please stop fighting…”

The barely audible words were heard even past the screaming, and it put an immediate end to all arguments. Some of the turtles were left with their mouths still hanging open, mouthing the words they were about to say except without volume. Eyes widened and one by one turned to seek the source of the voice that had spoken.

The small origin of the small voice couldn’t have stood more than three feet in height. His body was a sleek one with rounded edges and an oversized head; if there was a single pointed edge on his entire body, none of the turtles could see it. His eyes were wide, owl-like screens with white pupils rimmed in green sliding around, impossibly expressive for something clearly inorganic.

Everyone stepped back, and it came naturally to all of them that the smaller brothers were pressed back deeper into fold while the bigger brothers stood in front, eyes locked on the robot. A whirl joined every fluid motion he made looking between all of them, from Raph to Donnie to Leo to Raphael to Mikey. No one could find the breath to respond, and when the stranger took a step forward, everyone else took a step back.

“I’m terribly sorry.” The voice was the most polite voice one could imagine; he folded his hands together as he kept looking between the turtles. “I did not intend to make you fight. Or to startle you just now. I only wanted to stop the yelling.”

Still no words could be said, for they were all speechless.

“I am speaking the right language…” The robot said slowly, “I heard you all speaking it just a second ago. OH! Is my accent weird…?”

Donatello was the first one to break out of his silence, the stunned look on his face quickly shifting back to his normal, uncaring expression as he turned to look at his brothers.

“Wait, why are we stunned again? We’ve seen way weirder.”

Michelangelo let his shock fade away. “Oh yeah.”

“What’s your name?” Raphael asked politely.

The robot seemed overjoyed, giving a bounce of pure happiness. “Hello! My name is Professor Zayton Honeycutt and I am a man of science! Both literally and metaphorically.”

“I… you…” Donnie stumbled over his words as they all fought to get out at once. Though the stunned shine in his eyes remained, astonishment and excitement slowly grew to join. “You’re a robot!”

“Yes!” Said Honeycutt.

“You’re… tiny.” Raph scrutinized.

“Yes!” Said Honeycutt.

“You’re the ghost?” Leo gawked.

“Yes!” Said Honeycutt.

“You’re so cuuuuute!” Mikey ran forward to get a closer look, falling to the ground to ever so tenderly shift Honeycutt around.

“Yes!” Honeycutt said, “I am Professor Zayton Honeycutt, and I am a man of science! Both literally and metaphorically!”

“You eh… said that already.” Raphael pointed out.

“Ah. Apologies. As a robot, I do tend to make a habit of redundancy.” 

“Right…” Leo said slowly, then cleared his throat, “Well, I suppose you need our names…”

“Nope!” Said Honeycutt, “You’re Leonardo, you’re Donatello, you’re Raphael, and you’re Michelangelo!” He seemed very proud of himself, turning next to the Hamato brothers, “And you’re Leonardo, you’re Donatello, you’re Raphael, and You’re Michelangelo. Easy pattern to follow!” 

“Exactly how long have you been following us…?” Raph’s words were slow as he lumbered forward to join Mikey in looking over the robot, though without touching him.

“Oh, not that long!” Honeycutt beeped, “Only a week…”

Leo’s eyes went wide. “A WEEK?!”

“Yes!” Honeycutt said, “Seven days! Eight if you count today!”

“I…” Leo was lost for words and when they finally escaped his lips, there was very little force behind them, “How did I not know…?”

“Do not feel sad, Leonardo, I was in hiding! Not even the Triceraton Prime Leader himself could have found me!”

Raph blinked. “The what?”

“The Prime Leader!” Honeycutt repeated.

“Yeah… w-what is that?” Leo asked. He kneeled down to try and get more level with Honeycutt, but even then was two heads too big.

“That’s the name for the triceraton leader.” The answer came from Mikey, not from Honeycutt. Mikey was proud as first, beaming so wide his eyes were squinted shut. Then his smile faded and he blinked as joy was replaced with utter confusion.

“That’s correct!” Honeycutt praised.

“Mike…?” Donnie asked in his soft voice, “How’d you know that?”

“I… I dunno…” Mikey shrugged. His panicked eyes confirmed his words true. He turned to his brothers as the fear took seed in every aspect of his being. “It— it just slipped out!”

“Oh, what joy!” Honeycutt declared with a clap of his hands.

“No, no, not joy!” Mikey’s voice had grown into a higher pitch.

Honeycut tilted his head and his face panel shifted to one of confusion. “Why not joy? Knowledge is such a wondrous thing to achieve! Wouldn’t you agree, Donatello and Donatello?”

Neither of the purple ninja seemed particularly interested to respond to the robot’s query. Like a stubborn child who couldn’t take a hint that he was unwanted in the situation, Honeycutt remained patiently waiting on the tips of his feet, screen bright. To put an end to the awkward staring contest that they had unwillingly entered, Donnie cleared his throat.

“Yeah. I… I guess so…” He was extremely uncomfortable, shoulders bunched and head drawn deeper into his shell.

Honeycutt, seeming satisfied with the answer, beeped his agreement, “Yes! There is no guessing required! It is an unchanging fact of life on all planets, especially earth!”

“Wait…” Leonardo said, taking a step forward to point at Honeycutt, “You’re the andoroido, aren’t you? The android that bought all of Monroe’s rifts. Are you the one who took Don’s stuff too?”

From bright excitement to somber shyness, Honeycutt’s face screen shifted dark. “Yes. I apologize, but the Splinterson’s may not return home…”

Raph huffed hot air out of his nostrils. “Who you think you are, a free elf?”

Leonardo sputtered, and then broke down into laughter. Raph’s smile widened as his joke was acknowledged, but he was quick to clear his throat and straighten his posture to save face. Leo had enough of Leonardo’s laughter quickly, and before he could stop himself, he reacted the same way he would have if it had been Mikey laughing.

“This is a serious matter,” Leo said, “Not a laughing one.”

Leonardo made a point to laugh directly in Leo’s face, crossing his arms as he leaned so close his beak almost touched Leo’s. “Sounds like a job for mister serious then. Go on.”

“Don’t think I won’t.” Leo snorted, then turned to Honeycutt, “Zayton, I demand you give Donatello his stuff back now and give us those rifts you bought.”

“No.” Came Honeycutt’s simple answer.

“Uh.” Leo didn't know how to react at first. He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna give you until the count of three to return that stuff!”

“Oh! Okay!” Said Honeycutt chipperly.

Leo, all confidence now down the drain, began to count down. “One…”

Honeycutt’s face was still just as happy and joyful, fingers intertwined as he listened.

“T-two…” Leo’s voice stuttered.

“Oh boy, I can’t wait to find out what comes after two!” Honeycutt was excited.

“T… two and a half. Two and three quarters…”

Honeycutt still had yet to react.

“Three…”

“Yay! Good job!” Honeycutt clapped an applause, “You made it all the way to three!”

Leo’s shoulders slumped. Even without turning around, he could hear the snickers and snorts of his brothers trying their damndest not to laugh, except for Mikey and Leonardo, who were practically falling over with the force of his guffaws. Raphael cleared his throat and laid an oversized hand on Leo’s shoulder. Leo turned around to look at him.

“Why not let us have a go at him, eh?”

Leo, with no other option, agreed.

[evakuality]

Mia, episode nine

1.  For once, Mia actually has the right take on Alex.  He really has been a dick and an asshole, and he is and has been acting condescending.  She should be taking this as a warning; he’s totally exactly as she is saying here.  Unfortunately, I’m sure she’s going to change her tune because some sort of truth is going to come out about Bjorn and Mia is going to ‘realise’ that Alex is a good guy all along.  Except, he isn’t.  He never has been, and the fact that Bjorn had to be the one to tell her means that we can conveniently pretend that none of this is important.  Also, this ridiculous ‘what he did to me’ stuff is annoying.  If you have something to tell her... tell her.  Don’t be coy about it.

2.  This little scene with Amira is nice.  It’s a nice conversation to have with her rather than the others since she’s really the one who can empathise with Mia’s fears and worries.  And it’s interesting to see the varied ways in which the library is used.  In this scene it’s very cold, black and white colours (even in the costuming), not very inviting.  In others it has been a much more cheerful and welcoming place.  I guess we’re looking at the black and white, very rigid approach which Mia is using.  In other library scenes it’s been much more about bonding with the girls, warmth and connection, but here it’s a Mia who’s having something of a crisis.  I may not agree with where this is all going, but I do like what they’re doing with colouring etc here.  

3.  I get that we’re trying for a whole ‘don’t be so black and white in your thinking’ thing here, but it’s so contrived.  Again, I think this is an issue where we as an audience never got to ‘meet’ Alex as he mellowed and became someone Mia would like, and so I just can’t believe that someone like Mia, who is strong in her opinions and principles, would want to give them over for him.  He’s proven over and over again that he’s got a lot of issues being open, honest and decent.  And for me, principles (eg ‘violence because someone waved at a girl is never okay’ which is where Mia is at rn because Alex won’t actually talk to her) are important, and the guy Alex keeps showing himself to be is not one you would drop those principles for.  Nuance is all well and good, but we have to actually see past the shell for the nuance to actually work.  ‘I don’t understand why I got involved with him at all’ - no, neither do I, Mia.  And given that it’s been only a few short weeks and you literally saw how awful he was to Kiki, I don’t see why this ‘desire is stringer than faith’ metaphor thing we have going on would work.  We’re on episode nine and they are talking about how shitty Alex’s behaviour is (which it is - no matter what reason, what he did to Bjorn isn’t okay and lying to Mia isn’t okay), so I’m to believe that within the space of 1.5 episodes none of this matters suddenly?  His behaviour is somehow forgiveable?  If it follows the og, it’s not even like he changes.  All that happens is that we get some ‘perspective’ on the situation.  And in this case, perspective may make something make sense, but it doesn’t change how bad the behaviour is.  I seriously dislike that Amira says that depending on what reason someone hit someone else that it might be okay.  That sort of violence isn’t okay, particularly because regardless of what actually happened between Alex and Bjorn, in the moment the reason he hit him was because he greeted Mia.  There’s NO excuse for that!!  This whole ‘well I’m as bad as Alex because I was in a fight over Hanna’ is bullshit too.  It’s a false equivalence - Alex attacked Bjorn because he waved at Mia and had met her at Alex’s place (exacerbated by their history, but he didn’t attack just from seeing him - that came only after he asked Mia how she knew him).  Amira was involved in a fight in the moment and it was on equal terms - they were giving as good as she did.  I didn’t like that Sana was sometimes used in this way in the og and I dislike it here too.  Making her the voice of reason when she’s saying stuff that pits disparate things as if they’re the same is a problem for me.  It’s particularly bad that Amira is saying ‘well I don’t like Alex either, but you looked at each other...’ which is a terrible message for young people.  These two were together for half a second.  Mia can and will find other, better guys.  Just because they looked at each other in a certain way doesn’t mean that they should be together.  That sort of romantic ‘star crossed lovers’ stuff is seriously annoying when banked up against all that we see of Alex in this show,  Not what we’re told, but what we see.  There’s no reason why someone like Mia a) would have got with Alex and b) would have stayed with him after the behaviours he’s shown her (and which she saw over and over again with Kiki).  He gaslighted her into getting with him to start and everyone appears to be happily gaslighting her to stay with him.  If she has reservations about him, she should listen to them.  This isn’t a one-off strange and seemingly out of character thing for him; this is exactly how he’s been for the last many many weeks.

4.  The thing that really annoys me about this (and the og) is that we can only accept Alex/William as a good guy if we have another guy acting as a really really bad guy.  Like, yes there’s no question that Bjorn is an absolute asshole, manipulative and disgusting.  But that doesn’t mean Alex isn’t also a bad guy, manipulative and disgusting.  He is those things as well.  He has some redeeming qualities?  Well, sure.  But I suspect so does Bjorn if we’re not seeing him through the villain lens, and we were talking to people who care about him.  ‘Look, this is what real gaslighting/manipulation/assholishness etc looks like, so Alex isn’t bad after all’ is again such a bad take.  One person can be a problem even if another is worse.  It’s also so random that Mia literally just trust Bjorn right away about everything, even down to ‘alcohol solves all problems’ ‘yeah okay I’ll take one’ - like why?  She clearly knows it’s a joking lie, and yet she’s all ‘sure I’ll take a beer from some guy I barely know who has some bad history with the guy I’m conflicted about and who clearly wouldn’t want to have him around’ when she doesn’t even want one.  None of it makes any sense.  If she’s really there to try to listen to Alex, why on earth would she think that chatting with this guy is a good idea?  Clearly this ‘has’ to happen for plot reasons, but from a character standpoint it doesn’t make any sense at all.  Neither does ‘I’m at your place and I wanted to talk... oh but I can’t talk later because I have to study’ - again I know for plot reasons this has to be this way, but she could just go home now and study and meet Alex later.  If she has time to talk to him now, she has time to talk to him later.

5.  The fact that she’s spending all this time hanging out with Bjorn is clearly going to come back to bite her, but unfortunately I don’t care because I dislike Alex so much that I’m not even remotely invested in the outcome of this little journey.  You can clearly see the way Bjorn is manipulating the situation and making sure there’s video and photographic evidence of them together.  And it’s obvious that it’s going to really upset Alex - he bashed him with a skateboard just for waving at Mia, after all.  But I have so little interest in this relationship, and I think Mia needs to get miles away from both these guys and so I just... don’t care.  It’s done well, this little series of clips etc, and you can see that a lot of care has gone into making this part.  But for me it falls flat because not enough time or care went into making Alex into someone I like to start with.  As bad as it is, because he’s so obviously going to be such an asshole, Bjorn currently comes across in a much more sympathetic and likeable way than Alex.  That’s partly because we didn’t spend weeks watching him trash Kiki and then be all weird and shitty around Mia, but it’s at least partly because we get to SEE and HEAR him being charming, which we never got to see with Alex.  Alex’s scenes where he was ‘nice’ were always in montage and whenever we hear him speak it’s always a lot more complex and there’s always a layer of discomfort over how he is with Mia.  And for the purposes of this part, when we supposedly don’t know how bad Bjorn is, this works.  But it also highlights a big failing in the way Alex has been presented.  We never got enough nice, charming Alex to balance out all the shitty things he’s done.

6.  The whole bit with Mia getting steadily more blurry is done really well though.  It’s obviously coming up on her in a way she hasn’t really noticed and it does make it all start to get uncomfortable alongside Mia as she slowly starts to feel uncomfortable.  And alongside that we’re back to mirrors, where Mia has always been in two minds and we haven’t seen any for a while, but now we have one again.  This time we can clearly see her in the mirror but she’s feeling blurry and so the image is blurred a little.  Alongside the disturbing sounds/music, the extreme close ups, wavering camera and the harsh glare of the light, it’s again obvious that nothing’s quite right here.  Again, we had the same lighting etc with Bjorn in the hospital and so we’re being shown he is the problem here.  But at this point Mia doesn’t know that, and we are not supposed to know that and so it’s a way of visually showing us that things are wrong without spelling it out.  It’s nicely done, even if I dislike the plot.  Bjorn really is disgusting, btw.  I’m not trying to minimise that at all and what he’s done in this scene is really gross.  But that doesn’t change that Alex is also a problem.  

7.  Exhibit a: Told Mia is sick, he doesn’t leave.  Now, he probably saw the stuff on Bjorn’s social media because it was clearly designed to be seen by him, and so he’s probably not in a good space and wants to confront Mia.  But if she says she doesn’t want to see him, then he should take that and try again later.  Plus, if he hates Bjorn as much as he says he does then first, he should have made his reasons why clear earlier and second, why on earth does HE still want MIA if she’s hanging out with Bjorn?   

8.  Kiki!  I really like this little moment between the two of them.  Kiki being able to say ‘I think I look great in my glasses’ when Carlos thinks they’re ugly is so good for her!  She’s come so far from the person who tried to change herself because she wasn’t good enough for Alex.  It feels a little sad that we never got to see that growth on screen, and it seems very fast from when she was still hung up on Alex, but good for her that she got there anyway.  I’m so glad that she agreed to get therapy and has used that for herself.  It’s particularly nice that we got to see her helping Nora later on, because she knows what can help because she’s been there.  I know I’ve said it before, but I really like Kiki’s development over the series and I’ve become very fond of her.  So much of me would really rather this had been a season of Mia realising that all the guys she’s hung out with have been assholes, and finding out that ‘we’re all there for you’ from the girls is what she needs (plus, a relationship with Hanna in a best case scenario, but I’d take just the friendship thing as a much more satisfying end to this part).  Honestly, learning to not rely only on herself but on her friends would work so much better than shoving an entire relationship-reboot into the final episode.  Particularly when she has literally only just told us how conflicted she is about Alex.

9.  Bjorn is entirely and completely in the wrong here.  Of course.  But in actuality, the bits about Alex aren’t wrong.  Yes, she should have reported Bjorn, but also... yes, Alex should be facing consequences for serious assault.  Like.  Again.  This isn’t a one or the other situation.  Just because Bjorn is being so overt about his gaslighting here doesn’t change the fact that Alex also gaslighted and did many other things as well.  And again it bothers me that this is here to show us ‘see.  See.  Alex isn’t as bad as we think because this guy is worse’ - I know this is a carry over from the og (and I feel like it’s a much more empowering scene for Noora than Mia which is a shame), but I really dislike the way the shows are doing this.  I really really wish this whole ‘crew love’ thing really could be the way we end up this season.  That’s a much better outcome for Mia.  And I know we have her with the girls in a good place, but honestly, we don’t need any of these boys.

Overall, there are some really nice things about this episode.  The acting, for one, is very good.  The way things were shot and shown on screen were very effective, and I am very much in love with the cinematography etc of this show as I always am.  It’s a pity they had such a terrible blueprint for this season and had to stick to it because there are glimmers in here of what could have been.

[banshee1013]

Fic - Uninhibited

Written for the @profoundnet Discord Server Valentines Exchange - Reunion round, and specifically for @annethecatdetective :)

Title: Uninhibited Rating: Mature  Tags: Castiel/Dean, Canon compliant, S15 Spoilers, Witch Curses, Literally Sleeping Together, Fluff and Light Angst Word Count: 5787 Summary:  On what appeared to be a routine hunt, Dean gets zapped by a witch's curse - and suddenly he has no qualms expressing his undying love for Castiel. It's everything Castiel has hoped for and never thought he would have. When Sam discovers the counterspell, reversing the curse seems like a no-brainer - but will it cause Castiel to lose the love he never thought he would have?  AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29600769

========================================

“Dean!”

Castiel runs and skids to a halt, falling to his knees in front of the prone form of his friend. Pressing two fingers to his forehead, he breathes a sigh of relief. Still alive.

His attention turns to the fleeing form of the witch. Raising a hand, he wills his Grace into it and clinches it into a fist. The witch freezes mid-stride, twisting against an invisible force holding him in place. With a jerk of his arm, Castiel propels the witch around and pins him against the nearest wall.

“What have you done to him?” 

The witch laughs. “I’ve given him a great gift. You’ll see.” He flicks his wrist, a bolt of purple flying out and striking Castiel. It doesn’t hurt him but distracts him enough to loosen his grip, and the witch disappears.

Castiel utters a string of Enochian curses that would make Lucifer himself flinch. Nothing for it, and he has more important concerns at the moment, his attention returning to the unconscious hunter.

Even unconscious, he’s beautiful, Cas thinks with a pang in his chest, maybe even more so, the usual lines of care and strife stripped from his face. Castiel places a palm on his forehead and exerts a sliver of Grace, but it bounces back against his hand, as though hitting an impenetrable barrier. 

But it must have done something, as Dean’s eyes begin to flutter open, his breath gasping as he regains consciousness. Seconds later, Castiel is hit by the full force of those green eyes as they meet his own, hazy and dull at first but sharpening quickly with recognition. 

“Cas?” Dean rises and reaches for him, Castiel grasping his shoulder to help steady him. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” 

Castiel blinks. Of all the names Dean has called him over the years they’ve known each other, this one had never been directed toward him. He dismisses it as an aftereffect of just having regained consciousness. “Yes, I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

Dean heaves a visible sigh of relief — then suddenly there’s a hand behind his neck and Dean’s lips are pressed against his. The shock of the contact is quickly overcome by a growing heat beneath his skin, an involuntary moan escaping around their fused lips.

After a measure of time that Castiel cannot name, Dean pulls back and presses his forehead against his own. “Feeling much better now,” he says softly, his breath ghosting against Castiel’s lips and sending a shiver down his spine. 

It’s everything Castiel has ever wanted and knew he would never have, and he desperately wants to relish the sudden reality of his desires coming to life before him, but the relevance of the witch’s last words rings in his ears. Castiel takes a deep breath and pulls back to catch Dean’s eyes. “Dean, tell me… what’s the last thing you remember?”

Dean frowns, his brows pinching together. “Uh… well, we followed the witch to this house. We’d split up to clear the rooms and…” He stops, eyes narrowing angrily as realization dawns. “Did that sonuvabitch get the drop on me?” 

Castiel nods somberly. “Yes. I heard a shout but by the time I found you, you were already unconscious. I was able to pin the witch briefly but they escaped.” He sighs and looks down, unable to meet Dean’s eyes in light of his failure. “Unfortunately, I do not know what spell or curse was laid upon you. I attempted to heal you, but somehow I am being blocked from doing so.” 

He is once again shocked when Dean places light fingers under his chin and lifts to look into his eyes. “Hey, it’s alright. Let’s go home and talk to Sam. We’ll figure it out.” Castiel’s breath stutters to a halt as Dean’s hand slides to his jaw, his thumb brushing his cheekbone before leaning in to kiss him again. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Dean says after he pulls back again, barely audible over the buzz in Castiel’s ears, then rises and offers a hand down to Castiel, pulling him to his feet.

“C’mon, babe. Let’s get outta here,” he says, smiling and squeezing Castiel’s hand, then guiding them to the door and out to the waiting Impala. Castiel glances down at their joined hands and wonders what he’s going to do now. 

~~~ *** ~~~

“Sam! We’re back!” Dean announces loudly as he enters the bunker. “Who’s gonna bring me a beer?”

“Get it yourself!” Sam’s voice echoes from behind the stacks in the Library. Castiel wonders if he’s examining the books there, looking for an answer to the nature of the curse the witch placed upon Dean; Castiel having texted him about it as soon as they were on the road again.

Dean grumbles but there’s no real heat in it. He pauses in the Library and turns to Castiel, his hand raising to grasp his upper arm. “Want anything while I’m in there, sweetheart?” 

Castiel, his throat dry and voice gone, shakes his head. Dean nods and smiles, his hand trailing down Castiel’s arm to his hand to give it a squeeze before pivoting on his heel and heading toward the kitchen. 

As soon as he rounds the corner and is out of sight, Sam’s head pops from behind one of the stacks, his eyes wide. “Wow, you weren’t kidding.” 

Castiel could only nod in agreement.

“So, what happened? Tell me everything,” Sam asks as he moves to sit at one of the tables in the Library, leaning forward and clasping his hands in front of him. Castiel takes the seat across from him and recounts the events from earlier in hushed tones to prevent Dean from overhearing.

Not that it was an issue; Dean shouts from the kitchen that he’s starving and going to make burgers and did they want any. Sam looks to Castiel, questioning; he nods and Sam yells back in affirmation before turning back, gaze unfocused over Castiel’s shoulder and forehead furrowed in thought.

“Purple light,” Sam muses. “Last time I saw that was Rowena using magic from Book of the Damned.” The unfocused gaze sharpens and focuses back on Castiel. “But you said the witch was male, right?” Castiel nods, and Sam’s lips purse. “I have no idea what happened to the Book — it wasn’t among her magic journals and items we took from her apartment.” He sighs. “I hope it hasn’t been recovered and used by whoever this was,” he continues, “but I’ll do some digging on that assumption anyway.” Castiel nods again, but his inner turmoil must be written on his face as Sam’s eyebrows raise in question.

“Cas… is there... something else?”

Castiel looks down at his clenched hands, noticing he’s been subconsciously wringing them. “I...I’m not sure what to do about his advances.”

Sam’s expression grows serious. “Has he been making you uncomfortable? How bad has he been? He hasn’t… propositioned you or anything, has he?” Sam pauses to swallow uncomfortably. “Or worse?”

“All he’s done so far has been pet names and kisses. And no, he hasn’t been making me uncomfortable.” Castiel takes a deep breath and squirms a little in the chair. This is not a conversation he ever expected to have with Dean’s brother, and he’s quite unsure how to broach it tactfully. “Quite the opposite, in fact.” 

Sam’s expression is puzzled at first, eyebrows pinched in confusion — then Cas witnesses the metaphorical light bulb illuminating as his eyes grow wide. “Oh… OH!” His mouth spreads into a wide grin. “Well then, I guess this is your lucky day!” 

Castiel feels the heat of a blush flashing across the back of his neck and across his face, his embarrassment warring with a sense of outrage. “Sam, no!” he hisses. “Dean is not expressing affection of his own volition. He’s been compelled!” Castiel drops his gaze to his hands, surprised to find them clenching again. “It wouldn’t be right to take advantage of his condition, regardless of my feelings for him.” 

A snort from the other side of the table has Castiel glancing up from his hands to see a smirk on Sam’s face. “Believe me, Cas — those feelings are real.” The smirk dissolves as his jaw drops. “I wonder…” 

His musings are interrupted by Dean breezing into the library, a plate in each hand. He sets the plate with a single burger in front of Sam, then swings around the table to sit next to Castiel, sliding the second plate with two burgers in front of himself. He leans over to drop a kiss against Castiel’s cheek as he grabs a burger off the plate. “Dig in, babe,” he murmurs, his warm breath brushing over the shell of his ear causing an involuntary shiver to rattle down Castiel’s spine. 

Dean leans back and winks at him, grinning as he takes a big bite of his burger; and Castiel’s blush burns across his skin again. He grabs the remaining burger and takes a big bite in a vain attempt to distract himself from Dean’s uncharacteristically forward behavior. 

God help him, he’s enjoying this new flirty, attentive Dean.

“So, what were you guys talking about?” Dean asks between bites, and Castiel almost chokes on his mouthful. Sam covers wonderfully, though. 

���Just discussing the case,” he says. “Cas told me you took a hit. How’re you feeling?”

Dean’s grin widens. “Feelin’ pretty great, actually,” he says as he drops another wink at Castiel. “Cas says I was unconscious when he found me but I really feel fine now.”

Sam leans back in his chair and puts on an air of nonchalance. “So you don’t… feel any different? Anything strike you as being different at all?” He glances up at the ceiling. “Like, oh, I dunno, how you feel about Cas?” 

Castiel’s head whips from where he’d been staring at Dean to gauge his reactions to Sam’s questions to Sam himself, panic at his directness crawling up his throat and causing his heart to play hopscotch in his chest. Sam has the audacity to wink at him, but then he startles and whips back around when he feels Dean’s hand take his own, his eyes widening as Dean raises it to his lips and looks directly into his eyes.

“Nope, I’m still totally hung up on this guy,” he says softly, lowering his hand and giving it a squeeze, then raising his free hand to stifle a yawn. “But I am pretty worn out.” He stands, pulling Castiel to his feet and wrapping an arm around him, holding him close; Castiel’s heart feels like it’s going to beat its way right out of his chest wall. “Think I’ll turn in. Can you handle the dishes, Sammy?” he asks, nuzzling Castiel’s hair and humming in contentment.

Sam, the terrible person he’s suddenly become, nods gleefully. “You bet! You lovebirds should hit the sack.” He stands, gathers the dishes, and heads to the kitchen, throwing yet another wink over his shoulder as he turns the corner into the hallway leading to the kitchen.

Dean finally pulls away from him and turns, leading Castiel towards the living areas — and presumably, Dean’s room. Castiel feels panic creeping up as they walk down the steps into the war room. He knows he should stop this — tell Dean the truth, that the witch’s spell is compelling these feelings from him. But he finds he is unable — or rather, increasingly unwilling — to say anything, and the guilt gnaws at him.

But — this is everything he’s ever wanted and never thought he could have. And Dean is the happiest Castiel has ever seen him. Should he really deny Dean — or himself — this happiness? 

Haven’t they both suffered enough? Sacrificed enough?

The witch did say he had given Dean a great gift. Who was he to look this gift horse in the mouth?

But as they reach Dean’s door, the guilt forces him to at least say something.

“Dean.” Castiel pulls him to a halt and he turns to face him; Dean’s eyes, drooping with weariness, suddenly soften as he reaches a hand behind Castiel’s neck to pull their foreheads together, and closes his eyes.

“So, I know we haven’t really… y’know, slept together yet,” Dean says, his voice hesitant, uncertain, “and I know you don’t really sleep, but…” Then those green eyes open and meet Castiel’s, thumb stroking his cheekbone and taking his breath away again. “Could you… just stay with me? At least until I fall asleep?”

Just being with him, laying beside him, even if just to watch him sleep. It’s more than he’s ever had and ever thought he could. That wouldn’t be a violation, Castiel reasons, and nods.

“Of course, Dean.” 

~~~ *** ~~~

A thin stream of daylight streaks through the skylight over Dean’s bed and strikes his head, the red and gold highlights in his hair sparkling in the light. Castiel can’t help himself, reaching toward the pillow next to him to gently run his fingers through it — not enough to wake him but just to watch the light dance — and wonders if sleep had broken the spell. 

While Dean had only asked for Castiel to stay until he fell asleep, as soon as he’d laid nervously beside him — having stripped down to his boxers after Dean expressed confusion when he lay down on the bed fully clothed — Dean had turned into some form of human octopus, legs and arms curling around him and pulling him close, head on Castiel’s shoulder and nose buried in the crook of his neck. Dean was asleep moments later, Castiel reasoning that he must have been very tired indeed to have managed to do so over the jackhammer of Castiel’s heart. 

So all through the night, he lay there, Dean’s warmth pressed against his body, his soft snores against his neck, and he argued with himself. 

The spell is causing him to act like this — Dean would never want this, one voice in his head reasoned, while another argued, but Sam did not seem concerned — why? That was indeed a good question, and one he would need to address as soon as he could extricate himself without waking Dean. 

But when Dean finally rolled over, releasing him… Castiel found it impossible to leave him. The thought of Dean waking up without him there — would he be sad? Disappointed? The spell might exacerbate his fear of abandonment… perhaps even give him nightmares. No, he couldn’t do that to him, not in his current condition.  

Or so the voice in his head reasoned, the other voice moving down and settling uncomfortably in his stomach. He didn’t get up and seek out Sam — instead, he rolled over and curled against Dean’s back, pulling him close, and Dean sighed contentedly in his sleep and snuggled back against him. 

If this is so wrong… why does it feel so RIGHT?

But of course, the feeling in his gut wouldn’t let him alone. Would Dean wake up and wonder what Castiel was doing in his bed? Would he be angry? Or worse, disgusted? 

Castiel freezes as Dean’s eyes flicker open, the sunlight striking them and turning them verdant. His lips stretch into a soft, sleepy smile. 

“Hey, good morning sunshine.” 

Castiel releases the breath he’d been holding as Dean rises up on an elbow and leans to press that smile against his lips. The kiss was chaste but oh so sweet, and Dean sighs contentedly as he lays back down and stretches, the sunlight playing across his bare skin turning Castiel’s mouth dry. 

He swallows and manages to croak out, “Good morning, Dean.” The lingering guilt bubbles up and he asks, “How are you feeling?” 

“Like a million bucks.” Dean glances back over, his eyes wide. “Did you stay all night?” Castiel nods, timidly, worried over Dean’s reaction to the admission, but Dean’s eyes go soft. “I’m sorry, that must have been boring as hell.” 

“No, it was very enjoyable,” Castiel blurts out and only an act of extreme control prevents him from slapping a hand to his mouth, but it is rewarded by a bright smile from Dean. 

“Was it, now?” he teases, eyebrows waggling. “Do I have to worry about my chastity?” 

Castiel feels the hot flush darken his skin and Dean must see it as well, bursting into laughter and pulling Castiel against him. “Just teasing, sweetheart,” he says, but with a wicked grin, he whispers into Castiel’s ear, “but for future reference, I’m down with somnophilia if you are.”  

Castiel wonders if blood remains in any other part of his body, as it feels as though every drop has rushed to his face, and Dean laughs once more before kissing him again — not quite so chaste this time and leaving Castiel breathless when he pulls back, brushing his fingers through Castiel’s hair before settling on his jaw, thumb stroking his cheek.

“C’mon, sunshine, time to get up. I’m starving and in desperate need of coffee.” 

Castiel nods dumbly, and with a final peck on Castiel’s lips, Dean rolls out of bed, pulling on sweatpants and a t-shirt. After a moment to collect himself, Castiel follows suit, redressing in his suit and tie before pulling the trench coat back on, a feeling of resolve settling over him as he does so. He must talk to Sam as soon as he’s up today. 

He turns to find Dean looking him over and sighing. “One of these days, I’m gonna get you to wear something else — even if it’s just here in the bunker.” The wicked grin returns as he comes closer, his fingers settling around Castiel’s tie and using it to pull him near. “Although the tie does have its uses,” he says softly before pressing another kiss to his lips, the tip of his tongue sliding along the seam.

Castiel’s resolve slips and with a soft sigh, his lips part for Dean’s tongue. Dean groans against his lips, his hand sliding from the tie to Castiel’s jaw, tilting his head and kissing him harder; then Castiel is being pushed backward and up against the wall, Dean’s hand moving behind his head to protect it while the other grasps his waist to pull him in tighter. The unmistakable hard line of his erection presses against Castiel and he gasps against Dean’s mouth. Dean hums and breaks the kiss, lipping down to Castiel’s neck and rolling his hips, eliciting another gasp. 

Castiel pulls the final vestiges of his resolve together, managing to get his hands to Dean’s chest and weakly pushing him back. “Dean,” he pants, “we have to stop.” 

The hurt look on Dean’s face is almost enough for his resolve to slip again, but Castiel holds on to it desperately, like a drowning man grasping a floating bit of wreckage. “Please… I have to talk to Sam.” 

Dean’s face darkens. “Sam? It’s not like you have to ask his permission, Cas.” He steps back, arms crossed. “We’re both adults and it’s a free country. We can do what we want.”

Castiel sighs. “It’s not that, Dean.” He casts his eyes down so he doesn’t have to see the disappointment on Dean’s face. “It’s about the case yesterday.” Dean opens his mouth to protest and Castiel cuts him off. “Please, Dean. Just let me talk to Sam first.” 

“Fine.” Castiel glances back up as Dean pivots on a heel and heads for the door. “Do what you gotta do. I need coffee.” He storms out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall as he heads for the kitchen.

Castiel leans back against the wall, closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths to collect himself. Finally, he pushes away from the wall and goes in search of Sam. 

~~~ *** ~~~

He doesn’t have to go far as Sam almost runs him over in the hallway, walking briskly from the direction of the Library. “Cas! What happened?” He grasps Castiel’s arm, eyebrows pinched in concern. “Dean just came stomping through the library on the way to the kitchen.” 

“He, um…” Castiel searches for the words to explain that would invoke the least amount of embarrassment for them both. “He was very… amorous and I asked him to stop so I could talk to you before… well, anything untoward could happen.” 

Sam at least has the decency to look startled before bursting into a gale of laughter, and Castiel bitterly wonders if Sam’s soul really was returned intact. “Oh! Well, that’s better than what I thought had happened!” His laughter dies down to a chuckle but his eyes are still dancing merrily as he clasps a giant palm onto Castiel’s shoulder. “I thought maybe the spell had worn off and he lost his shit when he woke up to find you in bed with him!” 

Castiel’s ire diminishes and he nods. “That was my concern as well, but the exact opposite occurred.” His statement sends Sam into another round of chuckles, his hand dropping from Castiel’s shoulder as he bends over in his mirth, and Castiel sighs. “Sam, please. Can we focus on the issue now?”

Sobering, Sam straightens and nods, laughter still in his eyes but mercifully not on his lips. Clasping an arm around Castiel’s shoulder, Sam guides him back down the hallway to the Library. 

“I’ve actually been up for a while doing some research and I think I’ve discovered what the witch did to Dean,” Sam says as they cross the War Room and into the library. The table where they had been sitting the night before was now strewn with books. He releases Castiel’s shoulder and picks up a nearby notepad, covered with Sam’s neat script. “I think it’s an uninhibiting spell.”

Castiel tilts his head in confusion. “Uninhibiting spell?”

Sam takes a seat at the table and gestures to the one across from him. Castiel sits, his hands clasped on the table in front of him. “So, last night when I asked Dean how he was feeling and he said how great he felt — remember what else he said?” 

Castiel nods. “He said he was…” He pauses, feeling the blood rushing to his face again and amazed how the rest of his body continues to function with the continued lack of blood flow. “He said he was ‘still totally hung up’ on me.” His hands writhe together on the table in his embarrassment… but oddly, he feels a sense of lightness, a fluttering in his stomach as if a swarm of butterflies had taken up residence there.

Sam snaps his fingers and points. “Exactly!” 

Castiel sits back in his chair and glowers. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say, Sam.” 

“C’mon, Cas… think about it. When does Dean ever say he’s fine? Or admit his feelings for anyone, even me?” 

Castiel begins to see where Sam is coming from, but still… “I see your point. But Sam…” He stops, eyes dropping and the fluttering in his stomach souring. “Dean does not care for me in that way.” The words are like ash in his mouth, the memories from last night and this morning like white-hot blades to his heart. 

Sam snorts. “That is one hundred percent not true.”

Castiel’s head jerks up to shoot a glare in Sam’s direction, puzzled at his recent behavior. Sam is fully aware of his affections for Dean, and it is not like him to be callous or cruel, making light of other’s feelings, and yet… The look on Sam’s face gives him pause; his face is open and honest, and even… exasperated?

Could it be true? Is it possible Dean actually returns my feelings?

Just then, the stormcloud that is Dean rounds the corner of the hallway coming from the kitchen. “What’s not true?” he demands, setting his coffee cup roughly on the table before yanking out a chair and falling irritably onto it.

“That you’re not crazy in love with Cas.” 

An involuntary squeak leaps from Castiel’s mouth as his head snaps towards Sam, eyes wide in panic at his bluntness. He cringes when Dean loudly scoffs.

“Well, that’s absolutely not true.” He turns toward Castiel and then visibly deflates, all earlier ire dissolving like salt in water. “Although I can see why you think I don’t love you after how I’ve been acting.” He turns in his chair and reaches over to take Castiel’s hands. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he says softly, raising Castiel’s hands to press a kiss into each one, then glances up through his lashes, that wicked grin returning and Castiel braces. “But please, the next time you don’t wanna have sex, don’t use my brother as an excuse.” 

Sam, who had tipped back in his chair to watch the exchange, flails as he loses his balance and almost falls over backwards before recovering with a gasp, followed by a bellow of laughter — but Castiel barely notices, having completely forgotten the necessity of breathing. 

“Oh my God, Dean,” Sam wheezes in between guffaws, “We absolutely have to get this curse off you.” 

Dean’s eyes snap away from Castiel to Sam. “Curse? What curse?”

“The curse the witch placed on you, of course.” Sam sobers, shoving the notepad across the table, Dean snatching it up and reading as Sam continues. “You were zapped by a curse that removes your inhibitions…” He smirks. “Especially, it seems, the ones related to that river in Egypt you’re so fond of.” 

Castiel turns a puzzled glance at Sam. “What does the Nile River have to do with this situation?” He sighs in exasperation as both brothers burst into laughter. “I don’t understand that reference.” 

“I’ll explain it to you later, Cas,” Dean says, then sobering, turns his attention back to Sam. “So you’re saying this… curse… is making me love Cas?” 

Sam shakes his head. “Nope. It’s just… finally… getting you to openly admit it and act on it.” 

“Huh.” Dean sits back in his chair, his expression thoughtful, then turning resolute. “Then I say we leave it be.” He turns to Castiel, taking his hands again. “I don’t want to go back to being afraid…” He swallows, and continues, “Or being in denial of loving you, Cas.” 

That metaphorical light bulb goes off in Castiel’s head. “De… Nile.” 

Sam snorts and Dean rolls his eyes.

Then the lightbulb grows brighter. “You mean…” He can’t bring himself to actually say the words, the fear of being rejected — mistaken — too much for him to bear.

But Dean must know what he was about to ask, sliding from his chair to kneel before him, his eyes earnest and filled with honesty. “Yes, Cas. I love you. One hundred percent. One thousand percent.” Dean turns to glare at Sam over the top of the table. “And I don’t want to lose this. Ever.”

“You don’t have to, Dean.” Sam leans forward across the table. “You can choose to be honest with your feelings even after we remove the curse.” 

Dean rises, pulling Castiel up with him and into a spine-popping hug. “I don’t want to lose this,” he whispers into Castiel’s ear. Then suddenly, and much to Castiel’s surprise, Dean pushes him back, hands clasping his shoulders. “Waitaminute.” His green eyes go wide, hope and disbelief at war in them. “D-do you… do you love me too?”

“Yes, of course. Hasn’t it been obvious?” Castiel’s eyes narrow in confusion. Is it possible Dean hasn’t been aware of his feelings? How absurd. 

Dean sighs, pulling Castiel back into a hug, to his delight. “I guess I was blind as well as stupid.” 

Castiel returns Dean’s hug, relishing the ability to finally do so without reservation. “Not stupid, Dean. Just stubborn.” 

Dean pulls away enough to press a light kiss to Castiel’s lips, breaking it to press his forehead to Castiel’s. “Yeah, that sounds like me.” 

Loud throat-clearing echoes in the room, and they snap out of their reverie, turning to Sam. “So, what do we do?” he asks.

Castiel turns back to Dean. “It’s up to you, of course,” he says, staring into those amazing green eyes so full of love, but becomes aware of a gnawing fear growing in his stomach. 

If they reverse the spell, it’s entirely possible Dean will snap right back into his usual modus operandi — stubborn denial of his right to happiness, to love and to be loved in return. 

But on the other hand, while Castiel wants Dean’s love more than anything else in this world, he wants it honestly — not coerced or forced. 

“It’s up to you,” he repeats, “but I hope you choose to reverse the spell.” 

Dean nods, eyes downcast. “I don’t wanna be a puppet. I want…” He pauses and takes a deep breath, the eyes meeting Castiel’s full of determination. “I will do this — feel this — honestly.” Another quick kiss and he turns back to Sam. 

“Let’s do this.”

~~~ *** ~~~

Castiel paces the hallway outside the infirmary. 

He walks to one end, pauses, walks back. As he passes the door, he pauses briefly and listens; but only for a second, the fear taking hold and pushing him to move again, to the other end of the hallway. Turn, repeat.

Each time he pauses at the door, the fear that he’ll lose Dean forever grows, burning in him like hot ash. 

He had helped Sam gather the ingredients for the spell but could not bring himself to participate — asking Sam to question Dean after the spell was over and come to him personally to break the news to him gently rather than be there to witness it for himself.

It was cowardice, pure and simple. He admonishes himself for it — he should be there for Dean, come what may. But there are just some things he cannot bear, and having Dean reject him outright without a buffer is the greatest of them. 

He almost has a heart attack when he hears the door to the infirmary open behind him. He pauses in his march, the fear choking him, rooting his feet to the floor.

“Cas?” 

Dean’s voice, soft and almost timid, is the thing that finally loosens his feet; slowly, hesitantly he turns, his eyes rising slowly to see Dean at the doorway. 

He swallows past the lump of fear in his throat. “Hello, Dean.” He takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders, steeling himself for the inevitable. “How are you feeling?”

Dean walks toward him, steps echoing in the hallway. Castiel freezes as Dean stops in front of him; waits and tries to push down the anxiety as Dean stands silent before him.

“I feel…” Dean starts, then hesitates. He takes a deep breath, starts again. “I feel… good.” He smiles, shy but with a hint of the determination from before. Castiel’s breath catches as Dean reaches to take his hands.

“Please, Cas… have patience with me,” Dean sighs softly, staring down at their joined hands. “I remember everything… everything I felt from, y’know, before…” He pauses again, the struggle to overcome his barriers evident and Castiel has never been more proud of him. “It’s still there, but… I have work to do.” Dean looks up to stare into his eyes and it’s all Castiel can do to keep from collapsing from relief and joy — Dean may be struggling to express his feelings, but his eyes are full of all the love he’s currently unable to say.

But Castiel has no problems with expressing himself. 

“I love you, Dean. I will wait for eternity for you to be ready, if that’s what it takes.”

Dean sighs in relief and leans forward to touch his forehead to Castiel’s. “It won’t take that long, I promise.” 

EPILOGUE:

Rowena’s eyes flutter, the cloudy grey dispersing and returning to their usual hazel green. She breathes a satisfied sigh.

“Was the spell successful, my Queen? Did I do well?” She glances down at the slight young man kneeling before the throne, the black eyes somehow conveying hope of receiving her praise… or perhaps it’s fear of being the recipient of her displeasure. Eh, either is good.

“We’ll see,” she says, her voice lilting in exaggerated nonchalance, but she takes pity on the young demon. “But it looks promising.” She waves her hand in dismissal and the demon scurries away happily — or as happily as a soul condemned to Hell can be, she supposes.

She steeples her fingers, tapping the tips to each other in contentment. Promising, indeed.

The stools in the throne room catch her eye and she can almost see them sitting there, tense and rigid in each other’s presence. “FIX IT!” she had admonished them then, and it seemed like maybe they might have on their own — but she has always been impatient, and knows all too well the price one pays when they’ve waited until it’s too late. 

She had been watching, and waiting, and growing more impatient with them but unable to act — even the Queen of Hell has her limits — until she encountered the young demon, a former witch fresh from the rack, and an idea blossomed. 

Taking the young demon as her personal servant, she had instructed him in the spell that would loosen Dean’s inhibitions, cultivating him until she was sure of success, then laying a trail for the boys to follow. The spell went off without a hitch — well, except for the little idiot almost being caught by a surprisingly powerful Castiel. Who knew seeing the love of his life unconscious on the floor would elicit such a powerful response? She smiles slyly to herself, thinking of other fun ways she might prod that response from the angel in the future. Could come in handy.

A surge of pride overcomes her — she had been counting on Samuel, her all-too-short protégé, to pick up on the nature of the spell and find a counterspell for it, and she was so very proud of him — followed by a momentary stab of sadness. Oh, the things she could have taught him if it wasn’t for that pesky little tyrant Chuck! 

A wicked, leering grin curls her lips. Of course, there was more to her plan than simply helping a hunter and an angel — both of whom at one time actively pursued her demise — find love and happiness. Fostering that love and devotion was the ultimate weapon for her revenge against Chuck. For she knew at some point in the near future, there would be a confrontation between him and the Winchesters — one didn’t need prescience to see it, it was clear as a bell to anyone with eyes — and an angel with an attachment to the elder Winchester even more profound than the original bond between them on their side would certainly seal Chuck’s doom.

Ahhh, but it is GOOD to be the Queen!