#he knows that the potential of a relationship is not worth a fraction of an actual one (good or bad)

[aviatrickss]

*takes a deep breath and leans in so close that my lips touch the microphone*

the tragedy of dick and jason’s relationship as brothers is not that they hated each other and then jason died, or that they were super close and then jason died. the tragedy is that dick did not know enough about jason to know how to mourn him. were they brothers? were they rivals? dick sure doesn’t know, and jason doesn’t either! but it’s fine bc they have plenty of time to figure that shit out, they don’t need to know each other right now bc there will be time to know each other later.

except.

[jester-lover]

do you have to let it linger?

Dorm leaders and their greatest insecurities in a relationship (part 2 with some fluff)

cw- angst, de@ th, image issues, slight hurt/comfort, just a lot of sadness gn! Reader

Riddle

With his temper, and his need for justice, Riddle is feared amongst his fellow students

His insecurities in your relationship largely revolve around his inability to understand calmness and his lawful nature

Riddle fears that one day, one horrible day, you will find someone more easygoing, who won’t live with such stern rules

He fears that you will deem him a tyrant, someone who holds you back from your future potential, someone who holds you back from having fun in your youth

Riddle is scared of you fearing him.

Riddle is scared of you hating him.

Leona

Growing up, Leona was always a afterthought

His most important moments have been diminished for his brother’s, he just wants someone who puts him on top

But deep down, Leona knows his achievements are mediocre compared to the brilliant, energetic minds around him

Leona knows he will never be at the top of anything, including your priorities

He clings to you when you’re alone together, wondering if you would prefer a more lively person

Leona knows you don’t deserve to be married to a second-best prince, you are the light in his eyes and the breath in his throat

Leona knows he needs you, he doubts that you need him.

Azul

Azul keeps his eyes on every mirror he can find, looking for any irregularities or marks

If he finds one, he feels dread fill his stomach, as he desperately tries to hide away any imperfections from you

Azul is a deeply complex young man, he cares a lot about his appearance, and controlling those around him

He has fears of abandonment that run deep, so he tries to keep himself ‘perfect’ in your eyes

But when those cracks slip open, the scared little boy who hides inside of him is open for you to see

Kalim

Kalim throws wealth around like it’s nothing almost every single day

He has such little respect for savings or otherwise, and he often gets comments about being ‘out of touch’

He often fears that one day you’ll get bored of him and drop him

He tries his best to relate to you, but at some point he’ll have to realize how privileged he is compared to the common person

Vil

Vil can be critical of practically everything, including you on the occasion

He fears being second best, and he fears you seeing him as such

He has this inferiority complex around other beautiful people, and he is desperately afraid that one day, you will simply find someone more beautiful

Vil keeps himself set to a high standard of beauty, knowing that it’s one of his only advantages in your relationship

Idia

Idia truly can’t understand why you would want to be with him, a greasy nobody who sits in his room all day

No matter what positive traits you show him about himself, his underlying feelings of unworthiness will always be there

Idia disassociates for long periods, just thinking about what he’ll do once you finally understand your worth and leave him behind

Malleus

Malleus is so excited to have a partner, but there is always a sense of urgency to your relationship

Malleus will live forever, and you will live for a fraction of that time

He tries not to dwell on it, but in the late hours of the night, when he’s walking beside you as you ramble on, he can’t help but think about how fragile you are

His heart sinks.

All malleus can imagine for a brief moment is the passage of time, how quickly you will grow grey hair and wrinkles on your face, and how quickly you will slip away from him

Sebek

Sebek has struggled with his sense of self for a while, he’s caught in the middle of two very different identities

His loud boisterous nature has caused people to stay away from him, except for you

He fears that one day, you will also see him as annoying or rude, when he’s stuck trying to dissect his human identity alongside his fae one

Sebek is most afraid that you will see him as a weak minded young man, unable to decide what his role is, even if that’s the least of your concerns

I added my favorite boy as a bonus, also I’m sorry for the Kalim part, he’s literally so chill idk what he’s be insecure about. I’ll most definitely be working on a sequel to this.

[poetry-protest-pornography]

All of Ray's worst fears about himself are true if Sand took his dad's money.

If Sand took him on as a job instead of as a friend, then he really is a burden, he really is unloveable, he is Too Much.

I think he knows that Sand does love him, under all the hurt and the knee-jerk reaction of lashing out in pain, he knows. But he needs Sand to hurt a fraction of how he's hurting, because that twenty seconds of conversation between Sand and his dad was enough to confirm that Ray's only worth what someone can gain from him, not worth anything himself.

If the one person who has encouraged him to get sober for his own good instead of for their convenience, was only doing that so they could get paid, and if his dad was the one making it happen, then Ray has no one who really cares, and all the things he thinks about himself are true.

And he was just letting himself be happy, and be loved, and believe that he has enough worth to get sober.

Fucking Khaotung Thanawat. Give him all the awards.

And then Sand! Fucking breaks the wine jar and screams and mourns, and I want to die.

Because Sand knows all of this. He knows that for Ray, the idea that he was with him out of obligation or for a paycheck is everything he's terrified of. And he recognizes that he can't do anything in that moment to convince Ray that he's wrong. And because he was also just starting to let himself be in love and trust his relationship with Ray, he's also as broken by this as Ray is.

Also, I think the breaking the wine jar -- and that Ray brought that up, that he was aware that that was a potential problem, Sand profiting from alcohol while encouraging his boyfriend's sobriety, that dichotomy is an issue (and I do so hope that he also sees how his friends constantly and consistently refused to remove alcohol from their interactions and how that was also terrible and problematic) -- is so significant!

Sand does profit from alcohol, and I think it was clear that he hadn't seen that for the issue that it is until that moment, and the way that he looked at his wall of wine, and the agony he was in when he threw the jar show clearly that now that he sees it, he can't stand the idea of continuing to profit from the thing that causes so much pain for the man he loves. Sand is willing to cut alcohol from his life in this way, for Ray's sake, in a way no one else is Ray's life has. Not his friends, not his dad, no one else.

Sand is such a good man, and his heartbreak was so much quieter than Ray's, but it was so visceral and desperate and it broke any pieces of my heart that Khao left in tact into dust.

First Kanaphan, the talent that you have.

(I do not know how these two got through filming these scenes, they can't say nice things about each other without crying and needing to hug about it)

[llamagoddessofficial]

I would very much like to see nurse y/n hugs!! :3

By popular demand, here’s nurse hugs.

Sans: She does consider Sans the closest to a ‘friend’ out of the three. As close to friends as you can be with a convicted murderer. They’re on much gentler, much more casual terms than the others, thanks in no small part to Sans’ hard work pretending to be harmless... occasionally, during his checkups, she comes very close to hugging him before she catches herself. He’s just so easy to be around.

It’s far more likely that she’d give him a hug when he’s woken up from one of his sleeping episodes. When he’s out for several days, she tends to take watch by his bedside, monitoring his vitals and making sure he doesn’t enter any danger zones. After a particularly long sleep, if she happened to be there when he woke up, she might crack and hug him in a moment of relief and emotion. 

He savours her warmth, her smell... he savours this mark of clear success. With her face pressed to his shoulder, she doesn’t see the slightly frightening edge to his smile. Did she imagine it, or was he holding on a fraction too tight when she tried to pull back...?

Red: She’s pretty resistant to hugging Red, for obvious reasons. Not only does she need to keep her professional boundaries and avoid him getting any ideas about where their relationship is going, but she’s pretty unwilling to get seen in an embrace with a prisoner who’s well-known for successfully seducing staff members. If someone walked in on her draped over Red there’s a high chance she could lose her job.

However... a valliant moment from Red might inspire a hug from his darling. Maybe defending her/other staff from a violent prisoner, maybe stepping in when a guard is being inappropriate despite the heavy threat of painful punishment (the scenario where there’s a natural disaster and Red takes over would qualify). Even better if he gets some kind of injury, so he can make a joke about wanting her to kiss it better. A hug from his favourite nurse always makes it worth it- especially when he’s in the perfect position to ruin a genuine moment by squeezing her ass.

Skull: For Skull, being able to put his arms around the only person in the world who he believes cares about him is essential to preventing the meltdowns that could potentially kill and maim. But even when they ‘hug’, its mostly just Skull squeezing her as close as he can; she’s kind to him and initiates physical contact to keep him calm, but Mc tries to avoid being downright affectionate with him. At the end of the day, she’s his nurse, and there’s a power imbalance. She’s not his romantic partner... she knows he’s got an intimidating, very deep obsession with her, and the prison is making her use that to keep them all safe. But she doesn’t want to lead him into believing she has feelings for him or that they could be a couple. That feels cruel, to her.

A hug from nurse Mc would probably come when Skull is having a moment of visible fear. Usually, his fear translates into animalistic aggression, but sometimes it manifests as how he’s truly feeling; alone and absolutely terrified. When he’s under the effects of heavy tranquiliser, he’s often confused and bleary, paranoid... she’ll give him a genuine hug (or the best she can do considering the size difference) to try and soothe him, show him she’s there.

Generally, knowing she’s there is all he needs to sleep.

[shyvioletcat]

~ Rowaelin Month: Day 6 ~ College/University AU

Again, sneakily snuck it a previously started fic for today it’s late too. This is part 3 of my Everything fic you can find HERE. Remember to check out @rowaelinscourt​ for more Rowaelin Month content.

CW: NSFW. 

~~~~~

It had taken him a fraction of a second to reply to Aelin’s text with ‘That sounds like a challenge’. They’d bantered back and forth for a while after, hedging closer to Rowan asking Aelin out on a date. He eventually got there, they would go to dinner then there was an open offer back to his apartment for maybe a movie or something afterwards. After messing up so completely with the whole trying to get through the wrong door, being locked out of his apartment and losing a phone number thing, Rowan was determined to make it up to her. 

Aelin’s last message had said ‘After my gallantry I expect you to be the perfect gentleman’. 

A gentleman. If that’s what Aelin wanted, that was something Rowan could certainly deliver. 

After their first date they had indeed come back to Rowan’s for a movie. Dinner had been great, they’d talked the whole time. Aelin was very much the same witty woman he half remembered in his drunken haze. She loved to tease and rile him up, and even though he pretended not to, Rowan enjoyed every second of it. When they got back to his place they’d set up on the couch and watched a movie that they criticised and mocked the whole way through, not touching more than an arm around her shoulder. Even that casual touch sent a spark through him but they didn’t go further than that. In fact when the movie finished Rowan walked Aelin to her door and said goodnight. The way she had looked had him wanting more and he spent the next half hour regretting the fact that he hadn’t kissed her.

By the second date Rowan realised that this blossoming relationship was something he didn’t want to mess up. Aelin had requested he be a gentleman and he kept to it even though at times brain suggested he act otherwise, he also didn’t want to rush into this and mess up any potential they had. At her door he asked first before he even attempted to kiss her. She had called him sweet and kissed him like he had never been kissed before. 

That was the beginning of the end, or maybe it was the start of the beginning. Either way all Rowan knew is that he wanted more. After that first kiss they could barely keep away from each other. After the third date Aelin had invited him in, after a polite offer of a drink and an even politer refusal, he and Aelin had ended up on the couch. Within a few heavy heartbeats she was in his lap and Rowan had his hands in her hair. Everything had been above the belt, very literally. When Aelin had reached for his belt buckle Rowan had stopped her. She pouted and asked why with an inquisitive tilt of her head. 

“I’m just being a gentleman, like you requested,” Rowan managed to get out through his heavy breathing and kiss-addled brain. 

Aelin had grinned at him then, leaning in for one more kiss and whispered, pure mischief dancing in her voice, “Now that sounds like a challenge of your own.”

That was how he had ended up in this whole torturous affair.

Aelin had decided to change the tactics of her teasing. At first it had been only her words she used against him, now she used every weapon at her disposal. The closeness of her body, the things she wore, the downright sinful way that she kissed him. Every date they had Aelin had worn down his resolve a little more. They hadn’t known each other long, and Rowan was beginning to question why he was holding back. But then Aelin would smile at him or say something that had him laughing until his stomach hurt and he got that little reminder that she was possibly the perfect woman for him. He’d weather her teasing and taunting the best he could, because when that mythical moment came around he would know it and all this torture would be worth it. He wasn’t about to jump in too soon and let something shallow ruin this. 

What gave him the slightest bit of glee was that Aelin was just as frustrated as he was. He didn’t miss the flush on her cheeks as he kissed her, hands wandering just the right amount to leave her wanting more. But she still managed to keep the upper hand. Just last night she had him pinned to his door, her hands in his hair. If Rowan hadn’t been so lost in the kiss he might have realised sooner that way they moved with each other and the way his hands wandered might not have been fit for public. In fact they had only broken apart when whistling and jeering sounded from down the hall. Rowan had invited Aelin in, but she smiled at him while wiping away some of the lipstick from his own lips and shook her head. 

“I want you to watch me walk away,” she’d said. And he most certainly did.

Each sway of her hips was enticing and at the door Aelin had turned to face him so he could get one last look at the low cut if her dress that had been tormenting him all night. She blew him a kiss and winked at him before she disappeared. Rowan hadn’t even bothered to get himself inside before setting up another date for the next night and Aelin had replied yes by the time he’d reached his room. So tonight as Rowan walked towards Aelin’s door, he wondered what might be in store for tonight. 

He ran a hand through his short hair before he knocked and it took only a few seconds for the door to open. And the sight that greeted him left Rowan gaping. Aelin stood there, arm high on the doorframe that she lent against. Her hair was out and styled in soft waves and she had done her make-up in the easy simplistic way that he liked. But it was what she wore that really had his attention. It was gold, and obviously a nightgown from the length and cut of it. It dipped low between her breasts, clung to every curve and barely covered her ass. For all his talk of being a gentleman, it took him a long time to find Aelin’s face again. And when he did she was smirking knowingly at him. 

“Hi there,” she said like she wasn’t standing at her door dressed in nothing more than a slip of silk. 

Rowan swallowed. “Hey.” His eyes dipped over her again and he managed to get out, “I thought we were having dinner tonight.”

Aelin dropped her hand from the doorframe and took the slightest step back. “We can. Later.” 

“Oh,” Rowan said lamely. 

Now, Aelin laughed, reaching out for the collar of his shirt and tugged him forward. Rowan complied, eagerly if he had to admit it, and let Aelin manoeuvre them so that she had her back against the door with him crowding her against it. 

“When I asked you to be a gentleman I meant don’t murder me, not refuse to get us laid,” Aelin said, he fingers dancing up his chest. “Although it has been very fun shredding your self-control. How’s that going by the way?”

This time Aelin tugged on his belt loops, bringing his hips flush with hers. 

Rowan groaned at the contact, then reordered his brain a little. “I didn’t want to rush things and ruin it.” 

“Such a gentleman,” Aelin teased. “But I like you, you like me. I don’t think we’ll ruin this by having sex. In fact,” her clever fingers started on his buttons, “It will make things better.” 

“Well, when you put it that way,” Rowan finally let that last thread on his self control snap and his hands landed on her waist. “It’s a solid argument, I see no cons.” 

“Thank the gods,” Aelin muttered and then she was up on her toes and their lips met. 

Rowan didn’t waste any more time and he crowded Aelin against the door, one hand stayed on her hip while the other was on her cheek—angling her head just the way he wanted. Aelin moaned into the kiss, her tongue tangling with his as he held her closer. That little voice in his brain started to question why he had waited this long to do this, maybe it was his common sense berating him for being so idiotic. Rowan rolled his hips and it made Aelin gasp his name as his lips found her neck. 

“Please, Rowan,” she begged him. “We’ve had enough teasing.”

“I thought you said you enjoyed it,” Rowan murmured against her skin before nipping at her throat. That had her hands flexing, nails momentarily digging into his skin. He wanted her to do it again. 

“I did, but we’ve had like two weeks of foreplay. Enough is enough,” she said. 

That was all the encouragement Rowan needed and picked Aelin up by the thighs, pinning her a little harder to the door. “Another valid point.” 

When Rowan lifted her off the door Aelin’s arms held him tighter. Not wanting to risk dropping her he kept his focus finding his way through Aelin’s apartment. Feeling impatient, Rowan started towards the couch but she stopped him. 

“Elide will kill me,” Aelin said with a breathy laugh. 

“Your room?” Rowan asked. 

“First door.” 

He needed no further directions, giving Aelin’s thighs a squeeze that made her squirm in his arms. The door was open so he didn’t have to fumble with the handle, he just walked right in, dropping them both on the bed. Their lips met and Rowan felt Aelin’s knees brush against his sides. His hands left her thighs and travelled upwards, catching on the delicate fabric of her nightgown. The fabric was so thin that he could see that Aelin wore nothing beneath it as the peaks of her breasts showed through. Rowan groaned at the sight, his lips closing around one. At that Aelin moaned, the sound went straight to his cock. Aelin had been right, they had been teasing each other enough that it would be so easy to rid himself of his clothing and sink into her. But not yet, he wanted to drag this out a little longer. 

One of his hands dipped under the gold fabric and found her breast as his mouth kissed the bare skin between them. Then his lips started their descent, keeping to the centre of her body. Aelin was squirming, like she was trying to keep still but couldn’t. He could feel the heat of her skin on his lips, each quiver of her muscles as he went lower still. The free hand that he had travelled with him and stopped on the lace of her underwear. 

“Can I?” he asked, one finger dipping beneath the waistband. 

Aelin nodded furiously, Rowan smirked to see her so undone. For all her talk of shredding his self control, she was the one who was unravelling fast. “You better.”

Using both his hands, Rowan pulled down her underwear briefly noting how they matched the nightgown she was in. Aelin had raised herself up on her elbows to watch what he did next. Rowan kept eye contact as his hands went from her ankles to her thighs, spreading them wider. Her chest was heaving as she watched him, waiting. In the spirit of the evening he didn’t wait before rubbing his thumb over her clit. 

Aelin fell back on the pillows of her bed with a sighing moan and Rowan didn’t stop. He teased her with his fingers before switching those out for his teeth and tongue. He kept a steady pace until Aelin started to plead with him. 

“Please, Rowan,” she almost whimpered. “Please, please, please.”

Then he remembered all those nights she had left him wanting and had relished in leaving his feathers ruffled. He’d be foolish to waste this opportunity for some sweet revenge. “What is it that you want, Aelin?”

Her voice was a breathless, broken whisper. “Everything, everything.” 

Satisfied, Rowan circled that one spot with his tongue before sucking hard, and Aelin came undone with a cry. Her hands were buried in his hair, holding tight until her orgasm passed and she was limp and struggling to catch her breath. Not wanting to be idle Rowan started removing his shirt, and by the time he was done with that Aelin had recovered enough that when he reached for the button of his pants her hands were already there. She undid the button and the zip, then Rowan stood off the bed to get rid of them completely. He could feel Aelin’s gaze on him the whole time, filling him with a male pride she was bound to tease him about. When his clothes were gone he knelt back on the bed, knee to knee with Aelin. 

He watched as her hands found the edges of her nightgown and she pulled it over her head. Unable to help himself Rowan reached out, hands roaming her bare skin. 

“God’s you’re beautiful,” Rowan murmured against her lips.

“Nice of you to finally notice,” Aelin quipped. 

“Oh. I noticed,” Rowan dragged Aelin over the bed into his lap. Rowan bit back his groan as the heat of her pressed against his cock. “You noticed too, don’t you think I’ve forgotten that comment about my ‘pretty eyes’.”

Aelin clung to his shoulders, rolling her hips making that groan escape. “Why are we still talking?”  

She kissed him, grinded on him and Rowan lost all semblance of reason. Grabbing Aelin’s hips he lifted her so she hovered over him, exactly where they both needed. His cock pressed at her entrance and with another roll of her hips he was inside of her, sheathed deep. Aelin’s eyes fluttered, her head tilted back. Rowan pressed gentle kisses to her neck, whispering words of praise. 

“You feel so good.” 

Her whole body shuddered at the words and her hips started moving. Rowan let her set the pace and it was far too easy to fall into a perfect rhythm. For each of Aelin’s movements Rowan thrust up, each kiss and sigh and moan falling into synchronicity. His own release started to build, but he wanted Aelin to come again. Her hips stuttered and Rowan knew she was close. 

“Come for me, Aelin.” Now it was his turn to beg. “Please.”

“Oh, Rowan.”

A throaty moan broke out of Aelin and Rowan could feel her fluttering around him. It was enough to push him over the edge and his hips jerked desperately as his orgasm wracked through him. Rowan’s head landed on Aelin’s shoulder, and it was her soft laughter that brought him back to earth. Her hands lifted his face and she kissed him deeply, not bothering yet to remove herself from his lap. To remove him from inside her. Still blissed out, Rowan hummed against her lips as his hands hungrily roamed her body. Aelin had been right, they had been stupid to wait this long. 

Aelin pulled back, looking unbelievably beautiful. “So, was that worth the wait?”

Rowan grinned. “That was worth everything.” 

~~~~~

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore​ // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca​ // @sleep-and-books​ // @alifletcher2012​ // @westofmoon​ // @sleeping-and-books​ // @ttakeitbacknoww​ // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses​ // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen​ // @velarian-trash​ // @queenofxhearts​ // @heroesofterrasen​ // @highladyofstoriesandmusic​ // @empire-of-wildfire​ // @camerooonchiu​ // @crackedship​ // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books​ // @yourwhisperingshadows​ // @thesirenwashere​ // @tswaney17​ // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper​ // @cat5313​ // @judelovescardan​ // @flowerspringsea​ // @chaoticskyy​ // @the-regal-warrior​ // @fanfictrash3000​ // @blueeyes425​ // @starseternalnighttriumphant​ // @bamchickawowow​ // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda​ // @flora-and-fae​ // @thereaderandfangirl​ // @illyrian-bookworm​ // @chemicha​ // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd​ // @that-odd-puzzle-piece​ // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​ // @girl-who-reads-the-books​ // @hizqueen4life​ // @the-third-me​ // @1islessthan3books​ // @bestmelle​ // @cursebreaker29​ // @b00kworm​ // @superspiritfestival​ // @aesthetics-11​ // @maastrash​ // @mynewdreamwasyou​ // @the-last-apprentice​ // @charincharge​ // @firestarsandseneschals​ // @scarznstars​ // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships​ // @df3ndyr​ // @trinitybailey2003 // @gwynethhberdara​ // @booknerdproblems​ // @larisssss​ // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7​ // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10​ // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77​ // @jesstargaryenqueen​ // @anntheintrovert​ // @starbornvalkyrie​ // @loudphantomdragon​ // @woollycat22 // @claralady​ // @perseusannabeth​ // @fangirlprincess09​ // @maddymelv // @sierrareads​ // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard​ // @rowaelinismyotp​ // @pullnpeeltwizzlers​ // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction​ // @gracie-rosee​ // @elriel4life​ // @rowaelinrambling​ // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis​ // @swankii-art-teacher​ // @grandma-noob-lord​ // @vanzetanze​ // @highlady-brittney​ // @story-scribbler​ // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren​ // @surielandiareendgame // @silentquartz​ // @live-the-fangirl-life​ // @whimsicallyreading​ // @goddess-aelin​ // @littleboxofthunder​ // @empress-ofbloodshed​ // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae​ // @charlizeed​ // @feysand-loml​ // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen​ // @alyx801​ // @amandaswallowtail​ // @louiseleblancdiggory​ // @abookishfreak // @danibutterr​ // @thegreyj​ // @lizzyfirebringer // @endlessdaydream​ // @magnifique1807​

[mishasminions]

The Last Time I’ll Write a Long Post About Supernatural (15x18-15x20)

15 YEARS OF WATCHING THIS SHOW. 11 YEARS OF RUNNING A BLOG ABOUT IT. IT’S BEEN QUITE A RIDE.

[15x20 Speculation + evidence at the bottom]

First off, I just wanna come clean and say, after all these years, I still think they should’ve ended at Season 5.

If you’re going to come at me with “Then why’d you stick around to watch it if you didn’t like it?”, your question is immature, and the answer is simple: I just want to know what happens next (I also love the main characters and their actors too). You can watch a show and still think it’s shit.

Call me a clown, but despite all the disappointment and trust issues that this show has given me, I would still look forward to the day where it might just turn itself around and bring back the quality it once had, or realize the potential of each story it was trying to tell, or at the very least, do justice by my favorite ship.

Never happened.

They’ve had a few good episodes here and there. I can’t imagine the SPN Universe without The Man Who Would Be King, The French Mistake, and Scoobynatural. Seasons 6-10 were enjoyable at times. I blocked out most of 7 & 11-15. 

If you’ve been following this blog since its heydays in 2010-2014, you’d know I’d try my best to defend Destiel and this show’s decisions regarding it no matter what.

Because you know what, as a CONCEPT, this show is good. If you take a look at all the worlds its storylines have birthed in fanfiction/fanworks, you’d see how much Supernatural has wasted its own story arcs. The writing got shittier as each season progressed, and they’ve obviously given up in production as well because the quality in the execution has noticeably gone down too, but if you take a step back and take a look at the bigger picture, you’ll see that this show still tries to make sense of itself.

[If you’re still following this post, please bear with me, I know this is long, but I just want you to understand how jaded and pessimistic I am with regards to this show, so maybe you can buy into whatever hopeful thing I’m about to say later on.]

SO LET’S TALK ABOUT DESTIEL

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that they would give us Castiel’s “I love you” speech. To the point where, if I weren’t so desperate for it, I would argue that it was completely out of character for him to word vomit the way he did (but I’m not gonna diss on that right now because I’ll take what I can get).

I’ve valued every meaningful and obscure exchange that Dean and Cas have had in the earlier seasons, and I was willing to accept their relationship as just that--undefined, without any clear boundaries as to what they really are. And I think that was beautiful on its own.

But now, they’ve chosen to define it.

After they’ve driven every possible wedge between Dean and Castiel in seasons 11-15, to try to explain away their feelings as something they offer to a collective.

Dean can’t mourn and pray for JUST Cas, he has to mourn and pray for EVERYBODY--even Crowley, even some chick he just met, because god forbid he cries about just the guy who has given up everything for him--that would be “too homo”.

They’ve even set Cas on a path to abrupt fatherhood just so he can care about something other than Dean. Make it seem as if Dean wasn’t his purpose through and through.

And after all these years of this stupid show trying to deny it, they choose to acknowledge it at the worst possible circumstance, at a time where they’ve been so far apart, that it seems so foreign for them to suddenly come together.

But here we are. And they’ve chosen to tell us.

Chosen to tell us that everything that Castiel has done leading up to his death, he has done it because he was IN LOVE WITH DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that the ONE THING THAT WOULD MAKE CAS HAPPY IS DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that BEING WITH DEAN WINCHESTER is something that CAS WANTS BUT KNOWS HE CAN’T HAVE.

And they’ve also chosen to tell us nothing about how Dean feels.

Sure, finding out your angel made a deal, the stipulations of said deal, his newfound happiness philosophy, his long-winded monologue of why he loves you and why you’re worthy of his love, and to top it all off he tells you that being in love with you is enough to make him happy while he subtly hints that he’s always wanted to be WITH you romantically, was a lot to process in the 5 minutes after you’ve just had an existential crisis.

It’s whatever, right? Let’s culminate 11 years worth of tension and feelings in 5 minutes. Let’s waste the entire episode with cringey expository dialogue, and irrelevant sequences. The whole season was a waste anyway.

You know what Supernatural? FUCK YOU FOR THAT. They deserved better. WE deserve better.

And I would love nothing more than to hurl every possible insult your way,

But for the last time, I’m going to HOPE that you’re finally going to try to make it better for the fans that stuck by you all these years.

No more baiting new viewers, no more placating casual viewers, no more excuses. 15 years. Bring it home for the people who have actually been around.

SO HERE’S HOW I THINK 15x20 IS GONNA GO

There’s two ways this series is gonna end. Horribly or Spectacularly.

First let’s all take into consideration what Andrew Dabb says about it:

So, let’s start with

ENDING HORRIBLY

In this scenario, Misha is telling the truth about his last day of filming being 15x18. His “camping trip” during the last few days of filming 15x20, was actually a camping trip. He doesn’t go to Vancouver to shoot.

Jensen wasn’t “being careful” during the zoom interviews that it was just him and Jared quarantining for the shoot, it really was just him and Jared (althought most of these were done pre 15x19) Supernatural isn’t smart enough to do misleading PR, and they’re once again oblivious to the potential of their own story.

Misha hasn’t posted a “Goodbye Castiel” tweet because he’s probably saving it for last episode or he forgot because it was overshadowed by the Destiel trend that night.

So what we get is:

Sam and Dean are on the road again, up against the monster of the week. Only their world no longer has actual Supernatural beings anymore, so the monsters they’re fighting are humans.

Humans end up killing the Winchesters (despite having gone up against literally every powerful being imaginable INCLUDING God himself). Dean and Sam end up in heaven and relive their greatest hits.

Meanwhile, Castiel rots in The Empty because he died after realizing that he was happy and gay. Jack doesn’t bother rescuing him—his surrogate dad, the guy who made this specific deal to spare him—even though it was so easy for him get Cas in and out of The Empty when he had a fraction of the power that he has now.

Dean never speaks of Castiel’s confession because despite all the hints of a profound bond in the earlier seasons, and the fact that Dean has never cared for anyone (who isn’t his actual brother) as immensely as he does Cas, Supernatural just can’t have its main macho character be “suddenly bisexual” because that would hurt the male ego or some shit.

His heaven would probably be living happily ever after with his family. “Family” meaning Mary and John Winchester--two of the shittiest parents ever (but they’re not going to include them in this episode like they were supposed to because of Covid) and Sam.

Sam also gets a dog. As usual.

I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to do this. After everything they’ve pulled, this would be right up their alley. I actually expect this ending.

Anyway, onto the next possible ending

ENDING SPECTACULARLY

In this scenario, Supernatural tries to stick the landing, and Jensen’s whole “It didn’t sit well with me at first, but then I took a step back after talking to Kripke, and realized that I had to view it from an audience perspective, I am now really excited about it” (DC Con 2019) anecdote about his thoughts on the final episodes, were actually about Dean potentially ending up with Cas. (Which would totally make sense because Jensen at first didn’t see Dean as anything but hetero, but as of late, he has been throwing in Destiel jokes of his own, so he seems to have warmed up to the idea)

Backed with Misha’s tidbit (DLConline 2020) that he and Jensen had conversations about Destiel, and that they wouldn’t have gone through with it if Jensen wasn’t onboard with it, but Jensen didn’t push back at all. (Why would they need to check with Jensen if it was just Cas going all in?)

Robert Berens (writer of 15x18) also wrote the script at the beginning of Season 15, but made Misha privy to the concept a year prior (Season 14), so they went into this season knowing about Destiel going canon.

This one’s a reach, but this scenario also supposes that Misha was lying about his whereabouts during the filming of the final episode, and him saying that 15x18 was his last episode is part of the diversion to avoid taking away from the weight of Castiel’s death.

And that Supernatural is actually self-aware of its own material (similar to how they have wrapped things up in the past—lots of expository dialogue, poor execution, but fulfills the story arc)

Since Season 15 is basically a Meta Season (Chuck/God as a writer, pretentiously calling out how he created the worlds, its characters, and basically invalidating the past 14 seasons), and 15x19 is supposedly the finale for Season 15, written by two of the worst Supernatural writers, Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming (Bob Singer’s wife), then we can assume that 15x19 is where the shitty writers kill themselves--as Chuck, of course.

So we get a badly written episode that produces a bad ending, or as Becky put it, “All action, and no Cas”

So we get the bad writers season ending at 15x19.

And 15x20 is where Sam and Dean write their own stories, and where the cast had a hand in pitching ideas for it.

Dabb has mentioned that 15x20 (Act Two) is a SERIES finale, where they try to resolve the characters’ journeys.

Because as everyone has acknowledged, Supernatural isn’t about the story, it’s about the characters.

So here’s what we can get out of it:

With no more Supernatural beings left to fight, Sam and Dean are in a stalemate. They’ve resigned themselves to fighting to the bitter end, but the “end” has passed, and they’re still standing.

So they try to figure out who they are now, and what they want out of the life they still have.

Sam still wants a normal apple pie life. Before Dean dragged him out of college to go hunting with him, he had a whole life planned out for him. Become a lawyer, settle down with a nice girl, and get a dog. He gave all that up because they had work to do, but now the work is finished, he can finally go back to wanting that for himself again.

Dean finally realizes his self-worth after Cas saves him again. His prayer to Cas in purgatory may have helped him come to terms with his anger, but the whole “you’ve done everything you did for love” speech finally put him in his place, and he learns not to hate himself anymore.

But of course, he cannot fully reconcile with himself if he doesn’t get Cas back, and tell him how he feels.

Because Dean actually wants something for himself this time. Something he knows he can finally have if he can just salvage it.

So maybe this time around, with the help of Jack (off-screen), Dean saves Cas. Grips him tight and raises him from perdition.

They bypass The Empty deal by turning Cas human, and he lives the rest of his days with Dean.

Dean and Cas know they deserve to be saved, and they know that they deserve to be happy.

(Wishful thinking, maybe they kiss a little)

Anyway...

I’m just saying, there’s NO WAY that they’d have Cas go through that whole rushed speech, if they weren’t going to do anything about it later on.

But again, after 10 years of disappointment, I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to pat themselves on the back and say, “Okay, we sort of gave them what they wanted. We’re good now”

If that’s the case, Supernatural, I’m sorry I wasted my time on you.

Here’s to hoping 🤡

[incurablyromanticsblog]

Don't know how people are gonna feel about this but Loki should've been dealt with the way they dealt with Lucifer (from the Netflix show) I mean while the show straight up dismissed loki's feelings, lucifer netflix really showed us the natural and organic character growth with ups and downs while still maintaining the comic hilarity (WHICH WASNT AT THE EXPENSE OF THE MC). It's love interest and side characters are all original characters dealt as independent characters rather as brownie or plot points.

And the scenes that prompted me to think this?

1. Lucifer asking his Mazikeen to cut off his wings because he's moved past being a pawn in his father's 'Great Plan'. We could've had loki come to this conclusion and tell Mobius (who would've been an actual all out ally who was forced into doin lg what he did) that he no longer wanted any place in a land that hated him. (Once again like Lucifer calling the silver city hell)

2. Lucifer actually being the way he's supposed to be (angel of light, light bringer etc.) We could've had Loki act like the way he Actually Is. Not like how @iamnmbr3 so eloquently put it 'like larry the dumb lookalike'. We could've had Loki being stern yet having that air of sarcasm and wit that he had in his the films. His eloquence, his physical prowess (none of the falling flat on his face stuff, a lot of people talk about how he was trying not to hurt the people in ep 2 but srsly Loki would just immediately disarm them), and most of all his agency and refusal to cower or the pathetic attempts at lying.

3. Costumes. The lucifer netflix team had an extensive costume department that ironically pales in comparison to what disney is capable of but still we see Lucifer have a wide array of clothes and styles. Have Loki take the first chance to change his clothes. If he wants the 50s aesthetic have at it! he can wear the tuxedos and the nice leather. Or maybe change into some nice Viking-inspired leathers and battle armor. Have him as a pirate, or a knight or a cowboy. You're traveling through time good man! you can at least hit some of the cool spots.

4. In depth analysis of lucifer's mental health. the only episode of the Loki tv show I liked (loose term) is the first one cause it's the only one that gave a fraction of what we were promised: an insight into loki. That's it.

5. Lucifer's organic growth. This is self-explanatory. Loki watched one video and was good. Very good five stars. I understand that they only had six episodes but come-on. You could've had the subtle changes through out all the eps and lead to the big finish finally. With each episode focusing on certain aspects of Loki.

5. Lucifer's exploration of self-loathing. This deserves to be a separate point because Istg it was done so well. Basically lucifer messes up and he's faced with the hatred that's been conditioned into him (not unlike Loki) and then he learns what it is and actually tries to love himself. And not by kissing a female variant of himself (ew and also respect the gender fluid persons). He actually saw the good in him by reflecting and his actual good friends helping him.

6. Lucifer actually wanting to be good. Look Idc what shut mike waldron wrote, loki is not selfish when his whole arc has been doing things for asgard, thor, odin, frigga etc. We all know that New York was mind control, I do not know why it's being swept under the rug. But here's the thing, that self loathing I mentioned earlier is a huge part of Loki thinking he's some monster and intent on proving it.

7. Lucifer facing his 'devil-face'. Loki should've come to terms with his Jotun heritage. The TVA could've had a case in Jotunheim concerning the Royal Family and Loki could've seen the entirety of Jotunheim and it's people not just that most-likely war propaganda the Asgardians force-fed him. Maybe have him meet his siblings or better yet his mother. There's a very nice fic on A03 called Asgardian Galdr that deals with this beautifully.

8. Luicfer having a Breakdown and Crying: First off this happens gradually, his problems pile up etc etc. and he faces off his father and gets angry until he finally breaks down. And basically God says, "I'm sorry but i can't fix you," And Lucifer in all his grief and desperation asks, "But you're God,'. I know we talk a lot about Loki being made weak in the Show but that's specifically about him being made weak and helpless to make Sylvie seem like a stronger character (Don't get me started on the Sif and Narcissm scene istfg), But maybe seeing Loki try awkwardly to be good and near the finish of the show we see it blow up in some angsty way? only for some conversation like this to happen and have Loki understand that being good is something that is innate and something he already had the potential for all along. Maybe learn that he's not lawful good but as always the morally grey character we know him as. (Protector of misfits, god of outcasts i.e all the shit Marvel shat on) and rise as the God of Chaos and Stories against the rigid bonds of The TVA and essentially Kang.

9. Lucifer having a nice healthy romantic interest and relationship. Lucifer and Chloe's relationship is more often than not the main point of the show but no matter how much it is focused on it remains health, organic and not a weird allegory for something disgusting. Even if Sylvie weren't a Loki (once again ew) the whole dynamic was toxic. She constantly put him down, and invalidated his feelings (Sounds like Odin huh?) and guess what Loki fell in love with her after one day, one conversation of what love was and Mobius calling her his girlfriend (he also said that it was freakish and i agree). We could've had Sigyn sweet lord. (I'll make another post about this)

10. Lucifer's Sexuality. There is a whole episode in which Loki's paramours are getting murdered and they all vary from men to women to all that comes in between. And there's no shame, no offensive jokes. Have Loki flirt with dudes, i understand ms.karen that this is for children, don't worry the casual sex ;) was offscreen. Have Loki turn into a woman and flirt with woman cowards, maybe make some questionable remarks about horses (That make Sigyn laugh)

11. Lucifer's Powers: lemme sum up, Lucifer can, let's call it, use compulsion on people. He is known for his strength and prowess and abilites to grant favors. Have Loki shapeshift into animals, absolutely mauling people. Have him use his silver-tongue to coax people into making or changing history (Yes Brutus, Caesar is getting to be a bit much, say have you heard how sharp knives are?)

I'm pretty sure there's more that i can't remember rn. And here is one thing i would like to make very clear.

You are not bad for liking the show or hating it whatever. The problem is that the show framed a lot of bad things as good (Anything the TVA did, Mobius' torture session with Loki, the way Sylvie treated Loki only for them to become romantic partners, the Sylkie fiasco as it was offensive to genderfluid people and the bare fucking minimum of LGBTQ and POC rep). The show was also marketed specifically to make us think hey! Loki might actually be the main character only for it to blow up in our faces. We were also promised an actual plot rather than a constantly plot twisting concept that could've been worth something.

Also i'm still working on a Loki fic rn after which i will write a Loki(TV) Rewrite but unitil then ig.

[x-heartofthecards-x]

@numberoneduelist

Seto almost laughs.

Of course, it feels as if this move is the product of zero thought. He’s doing it not because he wants Yugi to feel secure, not because he thinks it will be beneficial for their partnership-turned-burgeoning-potential-relationship (what a mouthful), but because he knows it will feel nice. For him. It’s a purely selfish thing.

But he’s right - as the smaller man slides into place, the executive finds himself relaxing a little. The afterimage of Mutou’s smile remains when he reflexively closes his eyes.

“As per usual: this doesn’t leave the room. It never happened.”

His hold tightens a fraction. He knows that Yugi isn’t going to go blabbing to the first reporter he sees - or likely any of his remaining friends - but he needs to say it. He’s not sure he likes having to. Something about it makes the whole scene feel disingenuous when, for once in his life, he’s finally allowing himself a moment of vulnerability.

“I-”

He wants to say something else, but he doesn’t know exactly what. He wants to fix the disparity in his brain, and perhaps even make sure that his companion knows that his intentions are authentic.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he echoes. Much sooner than he would like, he finds himself retreating from the embrace. Already, he misses the feel of the man’s fingers against his back, the weight of his head against his neck and shoulder. He feels cold as he begins to shift his weight and get to his feet.

Perhaps Seto is just tired, perhaps he’s touch-starved, but he doesn’t feel like letting go entirely just yet. So he offers a hand to help the other up, trying to act nonchalant.

“At eight.”

Yugi practically melted into the embrace of the much taller man, his nerves soothed with the simple contact, even if that wasn't Seto's goal or intent. It felt good for him too.

Good enough that the, truthfully kind of shitty, statement rolled off his back and only made him laugh. The tightening of the man's grip was worth it, even if no one wanted to be told that they had to be kept a secret. But really, Yugi understood in this scenario.

The both of them were household names in one way or another. There would be talk. And with Seto having such a position of power in their dynamic, the criticisms could be quite harsh. Until such a time that they both agreed that the public attention and potential fallout from being together, openly in a gay relationship with a business partner was worth it, it was fair to ask for discretion.

He returned the firm embrace before Seto was pulling back, the embrace ending sooner than he would have liked, but again, Yugi understood that they were at Kaiba's place of business. There really was a time and a place for acting on your gay panic and this was one of the worst choices for it.

The shorter man gave a soft and reassuring smile as he took Seto's hand to stand. He didn't really want to go, but he did not want to belabor the moment. So, he gave Seto's hand a squeeze before releasing it to scoop up his bags, hoisting them over his shoulder.

As he straightened up, Yugi looked up to the other and said, "I will see you tomorrow. At eight. And don't worry, I will resist the urge to liveblog about it. For now."

[prose-for-hire]

Always read your tea-leaves

Pairing: Giles x reader

Request: Requested by me! Reader comes and drinks tea on an afternoon with Giles every week. He soon finds out that reader hates tea and has just been doing it to spend time with him.

A/n: I had an ask asking if I included any personal experience in my fics, I hate tea so this is as explicitly autobiographical as my reader inserts will get (...that I’ll admit to anyway lol)💖💖

You adored Giles. You think now, looking back on it, you always had. He rendered you somewhat flustered and bashful when you realised you harboured feelings for him though. Which was wholly unlike you.

You were kind and polite but you weren’t usually afraid of speaking your mind or voicing your thoughts. Most people saw you as an open book and with your friends you definitely were.

But, most recently, with him you had been concerned of making the “correct impression”. Wanting him to think you were smart and witty. Had good humour and weren’t ridiculously shallow and watched a lot of tv. Which, he already knew you were guilty of and didn’t mind in the slightest - in fact he liked it because it gave him an excuse to watch with you.

It had fast become a routine of yours. A cherished moment you and he shared that could just be your own. He had invited you one afternoon to come over, he offered to brew one of his special teas. The kind that took a while to make rather than just shoving a tea bag in there and hoping for the best. There was some tiny sieve involved or something.

You had expected the entire gang to be invited but you realised it had just been you. Your heart skipped a beat, in fact it must have skipped several - you were sure it was loud enough to wake the dead. But you sorely hoped that it wouldn’t, hoping for uninterrupted time with the man you were interested in.

You loved his mind. His intelligence. That soothing tone he used, especially around you. He was a complete gentleman. So much so you didn’t realise just how much feeling he held for you.

Giles was in love. A feeling that he had become consumed by, in the very best way. He submitted to it wholly and just wished he had the courage to admit it. He wasn’t sure he would be pushing it, risking your friendship if he did and thus the dynamic of the entire group. You were older than the others but still a big part of the group so he didn’t wish to ruin this friendship he shared with you. It was too special.

You smiled and he asked what flavour tea you would prefer, listing the options. You decided to tell him that you trusted him and he should choose which made him smile at you.

The truth was in your excitement about being invited to his house, you had seemingly forgot something very important. You didn’t like tea. No matter what the flavour, temperature or how ethically sourced the leaves were - the taste just didn’t sit right.

In fact you couldn’t stand the stuff. You never had.

However, you didn’t want him to think you were rude or even decide not to invite you into his home this way again. So you just didn’t mention it. Instead, when he returned you thanked him in a perhaps slightly over exaggerated manner.

Not even the horrible taste of the tea could dampen the mood though, you and Giles discussed everything. Books and research. Mythology and demon lore. Even the latest tv show you had been enjoying that he now knew more of the plot than he knew what to do with. He adored hearing it though and you appeared to brighten when he encouraged you further.

You had been trying to avoid mentioning the tv but you had become so relaxed in his presence you couldn’t help gush. He put you at ease. He made you feel as if you were the only person in the world. In his world. And, on these afternoons you were. He adored them. Looked forward every week. Began to miss you as soon as you said your goodbyes.

It became a regular thing. You talking and pretending to drink tea. It was worth it to have him sitting so close. His attention was yours. That sweet affection growing with every syllable passed between you.

“I, ah, do enjoy your company” he murmured the most recent afternoon you shared. It had taken every scrap of courage he could muster to admit such a thing. As if he was professing too much even by thinking it. But he was so relaxed by your side that he said it through a gentle sigh.

You practically glowed, turning to him and smiling. He loved your smile more than anything. He was sure nothing could ever replicate your smile, not art nor literature. Much less so the way seeing this smile made him feel. It was wholly unique to you and he felt almost blessed to be in your presence.

“I love spending time here!” You nodded with that small smile he became entranced by. You had never meant something more.

You wanted to pour your feelings. The way the affection you held ran so deep. How you wanted to wrap your arms around him in a never ending embrace. You were sat beside him on the sofa now and you had both subconsciously leaned in. Your faces close together, you could feel his body heat radiating against you in his proximity. You wished to lean further still.

If you had moved even a fraction forwards, you would have brushed against him. Your face against his. A heavenly graze against his lips that would surely change the course of the future. Together you could rewrite prophecies. Bend fate to your will. It would be only you and him against it all. 

Your eyes fluttered to his lips before looking back to his eyes. You saw the way the corners upturned into a wry smile. One that he always had in your presence. Lips that spoke so eloquently. That spoke to your very mind. Words that made you feel safe. Tone that could be so strong and yet so tender at the same time.

You were about to reach for him, your hand started to move to slide against the side of his face but something made him jump up. The tea. He had forgotten about the tea. 

He left your side and you felt such loss. To have him ripped from your side, the potential of that moment left you simultaneously ridiculously hopeful and empty at the lack of contact with his skin at the same time. You were sure you had seen something in his eyes though, some glistening intention that he wished to kiss you too.

“Well, the-the tea should have finished brewing by now” he said, excusing himself and leaving you so disappointed. Not just because you were now faced with a further disappointment in liquid form.

He shook his head at himself as he busied in the kitchen. He had so wanted to kiss you. Pull you into him with such unwavering passion it almost made him dizzy. You made him feel so much. Even a minute in your presence turned him into a lovesick fool.

He brought the tea out and handed it to you. He sat further away from you now on a different seat. Having to distance himself or else it would be too much.

You couldn’t even trust your face to hide it though. It was the worst tasting one yet. So much so that when he turned his back you had to lean in and pour it into one of his houseplants. You silently apologised to it but it was either the plant or you. A true ethical decision had to be made, for the good of your blossoming relationship.

Your afternoons became interrupted once Giles received a house guest in the form of a defanged vampire. You still came to spend time with him but it wasn’t as intimate as it had been before. The only plus side was that he didn’t make as much tea because he was either arguing with spike or making him meals.

In fact the week previous you hadn’t even come to visit (through no fault of your own you had a prior engagement). But this left Giles sorely missing you and hating Spike even more. Not only because he was forced into watching Passions with him but because he feared that you felt neglected by him. That your friendship wasn’t what he wanted anymore. Which just wasn’t true.

There was a Scooby meeting and Spike was involved only so much as he was living out of the house and the tv was in the same room. You were supposed to be there but you were having to travel to Giles’ from the other side of town.

Giles was in a sour mood. Couldn’t make the move he so desperately wished he could. He just wanted you to be comfortable. To be happy and to feel just as strongly as him. He was sure you would have expressed an interest if you felt something. You were usually so bold, he admired your nature so much. 

Giles sighed and cleaned his glasses as he was in deep thought. His mind only ever wrapped around you at the moment. The close proximity you held but at such a disappointing distance. The Scoobies noticed this sigh and as always immediately pick him up on it. He didn’t even have to say anything, they just knew it was about you and your mutual pining.

“Well, have you even tried to make a move?” Buffy questioned with a little squint.

“We drink tea together...” He said vaguely which made the others laugh. He looked up, frowning at their reactions.

“There’s no way!”

“Well, ah, we do...” He said, putting his glasses back on and squinting back around the room at why this would be such a ridiculous notion. 

“Y/n hates tea, Giles” Willow answered honestly. She had to sit through one of your rants about it when she had offered it to you once.

“Yeah, even I know that. Doesn’t touch the stuff called me a freak of nature for even suggesting-” Spike began with a shrug, he didn’t even look up from the tv as he spoke.

“I think they called you that for offering a “secret ingredient”-”

“Blood compliments everything I’ll have you know” Spike pointed her way and she grimaced at how gross he was.

“Will you both stop babbling and allow me to think straight! Th-they don’t drink tea? Ever?” He asked, a furrow deepening on his brow. This meant something. Of course, it must do. But just what it meant, he couldn’t be entirely sure. He knew what he hoped it meant though.

“Never ever”

“Not unless...” Willow tailed off and everyone gave him a look as if to hint at what they meant. They were implying that his hopes were true. You liked him and took any excuse you could to spend time with him. 

“But they are usually so open about everything, especially matters of the heart”

“Well, love makes you do the whacky”

“They couldn’t possibly... hold such affection, ah, could they?” Giles, uncharacteristically pondered aloud which made Spike scoff. It couldn’t have been more obvious if you had a t-shirt printed that said ‘I heart Giles’ on it. In fact, the vampire was sure you probably had one. 

While everyone was talking Xander had moved towards the corner of the room where Giles’ usually dead looking plants looked more vibrant than ever. He was inspecting them. He had seen one too many movies and figured he might know the true extent to your tea drinking.

“Well, they might have mentioned something...”

“And I think I figured who’s been drinking your tea, G-man. Check out the little corner of horrors” Xander said, gesturing with his head at the jungle of plants. You had been feeding his plants with the tea. 

“And you thought the potted plants had magically started to grow. They’ve been bloody drinking tea!” Spike scoffed and rolled his eyes. But Giles wasn’t listening anymore. He was smiling at the idea that you had been pretending to enjoy drinking tea just to spend time with him. 

Just as this was revealed, you walked in closing the door behind you and calling into the room, “Hey guys sorry I’m... late” you tailed off glancing around the room. There was an unusual vibe as if 

“We’ll give you some space...”

“I won’t” Spike said unhelpfully, crossing his arms and smirking ready to watch a potential social disaster in the making. 

“You bloody well will” Giles warned. When the vampire didn’t move and Giles looked as if he may pop a blood vessel, Buffy sighed and hauled Spike into the bathroom with the others where they would sit and wait in their hurry to give you space.

“You don’t like tea?” He asked, barely hiding the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Oh... so you found out about that? I’m sorry, I was just so...” You nodded at yourself. It was long since time to admit this, “I was so excited that you wanted to spend time with me alone that I forgot and then it had been too long... I didn’t want you to think any less of me” You said slowly, looking at the ground.

“I, uh, just wish I had known your feelings. It would have made it much easier to gauge whether you were interested”

“Giles-” You said, taking his hand in yours. You liked the way they looked clasped together in this way. 

“Rupert, please” he offered comfortingly, rubbing his thumb against your hand which made you smile down at your entwined hands.

“Rupert, I love you... I think I always have”

“And I love you” He admitted, one hand sliding up your upper arm. The other moving to cup your cheek. This had been everything you had both wanted for so long. You and him. Like this.

You leaned in, catching his lips with yours. He grasped the hair at the base of your skull, willing you closer. This kiss was the sweetest, it tasted better than you ever could have imagined. It brightened your soul. Made your heart beat more rhythmically. In perfect timing with his. 

You parted briefly, but he couldn’t help pressing light kisses against your cheek, trailing a path to the corner of your mouth as you spoke. He wished to cherish you in the way he felt you so deserved. Couldn’t move from your contact, not now he knew how you felt this as deeply as him. It was real. So real and he couldn’t waste a moment of it.

“We should have read our tea-leaves” You smiled, you were so sure that they would have told you that you were meant for each other. It would have at least meant that drinking your water-weight in tea would have been worth it. Either way though, of course it was worth it. Because it meant you spent time with him. Got to know him in this way.

He nodded gently but he didn’t wish to speak now. He just wished to show you his devotion. His lips had barely moved from your skin as your shared admittance enveloped you. He caught your lips again, such tenderness evident in his kisses. He wished for you to feel just how passionately he loved you. He fit so perfectly against you.

“Can we come out now?!” Buffy shouted from the bathroom where the others were all crushed in together but neither of you heard her. You were too wrapped up in each other.

[azucanela]

Could you do another Sokka with the fire nation reader and maybe something domestic? Something after the war potentially? Please and thank you!!!

SERENE SHORES | SOKKA X READER

SUMMARY: after years of chaos, Y/N can’t help but feel weird when everything is peaceful. but hey, weird can be nice. especially when weird is with sokka.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: kissing, soft, pretty basic.

A/N: this is gonna be the least heartbreaking thing i’ll ever write super domestic 10/10 soft. also it feels wrong to not write something thats like 10k words of pining askhdkjsah also this is weirdest title ever im sorry

The sun poured into the room, indicating that Sokka had in fact, awoken, and opened the curtains, much to Y/N’s dismay. They were on vacation and yet he still insisted on waking up at the most ungodly of hours to work. Y/N had no doubt that he’d heard the whispers in the Southern Water Tribe, he’d done so much for the small nation that Y/N wasn’t shocked when rumors of Sokka potentially becoming the next chief came about. He was still young, but that didn’t stop people from talking, and maybe thats why he was putting so much pressure on himself.

But it was vacation, on Ember Island, alongside the rest of their friends. They’d agreed to head out later in the day together, to the beach to catch up with one another. Regardless, Y/N couldn’t help but groan, running a hand through her hair when she realized Sokka had gotten up early for no reason. Y/N had searched him prior to their departure to the island, ensuring he had no work at all, and yet here they were.

Sitting up in the bed, she stretched out her arms, allowing the sun to hit her face. Y/N squinted at the sudden brightness as she moved to stand, a wave of dizziness washed over her momentarily, causing her legs to wobble as she took her first few steps of the day. Y/N quickly recovered as she made her way outside of the room, bringing a hand to her forehead as she sighed. The Ember Island rooms were like small homes at this point, so Y/N wasn’t shocked to find Sokka in the kitchen, cutting up some fruits into the bowl. 

He looks up at her, a smile on his face as he put the knife down and tries his best to lean against the counter alluringly, only for his elbow to miss the edge of the counter. Sokka stumbles slightly, causing Y/N to laugh as she greets him, “hi there.”

“Hey, beautiful.” Sokka greets, recovering from his fall as he jogs over to press a kiss to her cheek, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her closer.

Y/N hums in response, wrapping her arms around his torso, “why are you out of bed?” She presses a kiss to his jaw before resting her head on his chest.

“I was making breakfast, per usual.” Comes his reply. Y/N had found that Sokka was actually a great roommate, he tended to wake up early to handle his duties in the Southern Water Tribe. Which meant he’d cook breakfast for the two of them, and get his fair share of cleaning done. 

Y/N is pulling herself away from him to grab his hand and pull him towards the bedroom, “let’s go back to bed.” It was vacation, and they could probably order some sort of room service seeing as Ember Island was practically a resort.

“We have to meet the others later.” Sokka reasoned, resisting her aggressive yanks at his arm, feet remaining firmly planted on the floor.

Y/N playfully glares at him, “yeah, later. Not now, we have time. I don’t know why you woke up so early.” She’s scolding him, mostly because he’s been having trouble sleeping lately, and refuses to drink the tea she offered him. Iroh had kindly taught her how to make a ‘proper’ cup of tea, as he’d put it. 

“It’s midday.” He points out, causing Y/N’s eyes to widen a fraction, her eyes flickering over to the windows momentarily as she tries to understand how she managed to sleep well into the middle of the day.

Her mouth opens and closes for a moment, brows furrowing in confusion as she looks to Sokka, “are you serious?”

Sokka blinks once before throwing his head back in laughter, “yes!” 

With a rather aggressive tug at Sokka’s arm, Y/N pulled him closer bringing her free hand to his cheek as she pulled him in for a kiss. Sokka melted into it, bringing both his arms to hand loosely around her waist

It was peaceful. Watching him look so happy, the way the sunlight gleamed on his face as Y/N practically tackled him onto the bed, the bright smile on his face lit up the room more than the sun ever could. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen these things and she certainly hoped it wouldn’t be the last. And given how few threats of war and death and chaos there had been lately, Y/N had a feeling that she wouldn’t have to worry about losing Sokka to some insane enemy anytime soon. 

Y/N hated how weird it felt. Being able to relax for once because there’s no threat of impending doom, no need to be alert despite the habit she’d developed to always have a hand ready to grab the knife at her side. Y/N hated that she couldn’t allow herself a moment of peace even though there was nothing to worry about. 

Even when the war had ended, Y/N had to be on her toes for all the riots that started across the world. She and the rest of Team Avatar weren’t necessarily prepared for all the diplomatic work that had to be done to repair all the damage that had been done to the world during the 100 years of war. Aang had a lot of other issues to handle as the Avatar, Katara and Sokka had to work on rebuilding the Southern Water Tribe, Toph had to handle her parents though she had favored spreading the wonders of metalbending instead. Zuko was rebuilding the Fire Nation was simultaneously tearing down the century’s worth of brainwashing. And as for Y/N, she was just trying to figure out where she fit in to all this.

For the first time in a long time, nothing was going on. Y/N didn’t need to bring her weapons, and she didn’t need to look over her shoulder ever moment for potential enemies. And it felt weird.

They’d returned to Ember Island for a vacation, a reward to themselves for everything they’d done. And it had been a while since they’d been able to actually catch up, Y/N wouldn’t deny it, though they saw each other fairly frequently when it seemed the world was about to end, time to talk was rare. And now that they could talk, she didn’t know what to say.

Yeah, it felt weird.

Sokka’s arm had wrapped around her waist, and Y/N found herself watching as he threw his head back in laughter at something Toph had said. The girl in question seemed pretty pleased with herself, Zuko on the other hand was looking rather embarrassed. Not that Y/N was really paying attention to the conversation. They had gotten to the beach not too long ago, and Y/N had a feeling they would stay awhile, but she was a little busy getting lost in her own thoughts. 

Was it wrong of her to wonder what happened next now that they had entered what would —hopefully— be an era of peace? The only person who could probably remember such a time was Aang, seeing as he was born before the war started, officially started that is. 

Pushing away those thoughts, Y/N returned her attention to the conversation at hand, “you know what, the rest of you never grew up with Sokka’s whining in the mornings— Y/N knows what I mean, right?”

Y/N found herself straightening beside Sokka, “actually, Sokka cooks me breakfast in the mornings, and he’s surprisingly neat, so I have no complaints.” She lets out a small laugh, and Y/N can feel Sokka’s eyes on her figure as everyone else laughs once more.

“Thank you Y/N, see I can be a fantastic roommate.” Sokka asserted, throwing a playful glare to Katara as he squeezed Y/N’s side gently. She and Sokka had gotten together shortly after the war, and they’d been living together for a while. Seeing as they travelled together for over a year, there wasn’t really much of an adjustment period if Y/N was honest, and Sokka was a model roommate. 

Sokka sits up suddenly, causing Y/N to raise a brow at him as she shifts in her seat, only for him to extend a hand to her, “I’m going for a walk, wanna come?”

She takes his hand, offering him a smile as she sits up as well, “yes.” 

From the corner of her eye, Y/N can see Aang move to speak, only for Toph to swat at his chest when he tries to stand, and Katara to glare harshly. Zuko simply watches the interaction in confusion, brow furrowing as Katara beams up at the couple, “have fun!”

Sokka fought the urge to roll his eyes as he took Y/N by the hand and began to drag her away from the campsite. He’d noticed her behavior, something was bothering her. Of course, Katara was reading into things again, she and Gran Gran had grown a little obsessed in regards to his relationship with Y/N. Mostly because Gran Gran insisted that she had to live to see the wedding.

Oh god, Katara must’ve thought he intended to propose—

Y/N had gathered that much as well, it wasn’t something the two had discussed yet, mostly because they’d never had time. When they officially got together, everything was so chaotic they just never had the time, and now that they had the time, well neither of them had tried to broach the topic. Katara on the other hand seemed to continue her meddlesome ways, trying to put the idea into Y/N’s head time and time again during their conversations.

Y/N did not approve.

The pair walked silently across the coast line, water washing up against their bare feet as Sokka comically swung their hands back and forth, earning a small laugh from Y/N. She came to the realization that as badly as she wanted to avoid this conversation, it was necessary. Looking up at him, her brows furrowed as she spoke, “don’t let Katara... pressure you into anything, okay?”

Sokka frowned, pausing as he walked, “don’t tell me she’s been talking to you about-”

“Marriage.” They both muttered, simultaneously. The pair burst into laughter, and Sokka simply shook his head. Katara had obviously been discussing the subject with the both of them.

Sokka simply facepalms, and Y/N finds herself smiling as she watches him, “I’m sorry that she’s been bothering you about that, even though I told her not to.” He turns back to look at the camp, that’s still visible in the distance, Katara is giving him a thumbs up alongside Toph, though the young girl is facing the wrong direction. A show of support as he attempts to ‘propose’ to Y/N, though he didn’t intend to, not today at least. 

Y/N offers him a nervous smile, pulling his attention away from their friends as they continued to walk, “it’s fine.” Another silence consumes them, and Y/N finds herself biting her lip as her gaze returns to Sokka, “have you thought about it though?” 

“Marriage?” Sokka asks, looking to her with wide eyes, “of course, I have. But we’re still young...” He trails off, tilting his head at Y/N as he mumbles, “have you?”

She shrugs, looking to the horizon, where the sun is slowly disappearing and the night sky begins to reveal itself, “honestly? Not really, no.” Y/N can practically feel Sokka deflate beside her, and quickly continues, “not because I don’t want to marry you. I just... I don’t know I never had...”

“Time. To think about it?” Sokka offered when she trailed off. He understood, in a way. They weren’t able to think much of the future while on the run, mostly because the future was a luxury that they were unsure they’d ever get. 

Y/N simply looks to him, nodding slowly she can feel her cheeks warm as she exhales deeply. “I want to though.” Her voice is quiet, probably because its the first time she admitting it to herself, that she does want to marry Sokka. There was always a small part of her that wondered what that would be like, and maybe moving in with him solidified the idea in her mind. Y/N didn’t know.

Maybe it was cliché but Sokka had known since they’d met. 

“I’ve thought about it for a while.” He mumbles, fidgeting with her hand. 

A smile graces Y/N’s face as she raises a brow, “what have you thought about?” She can’t help but feel curious, she’s well aware of how meticulously he plans things, and if he’s thought about their potential wedding it means he not only sees her in his future, but he also likely spent a lot of time considering minor details about the wedding. 

Sokka’s eyes are glued to her hands as he responds, “you would look really pretty in a wedding dress.” If Sokka was honest, she looked pretty in everything, but the idea of marrying her? It had crossed his mind in the past, several times.

She’s never seen him this shy and subdued before, and Y/N can’t help but feel shocked at how soft his voice sounds when he speaks. So, she finds herself considering what this imaginary wedding would be like. Yet all she manages to say is, “I was thinking about how I would never get married on a beach.” 

A small laugh escapes Sokka, “you hate sand.” They’d learnt that the hard way the last time they were at Ember Island, just before the end of the war. Sokka had spent about an hour convincing Y/N to come down to the beach despite her hatred of sand. She ended up agreeing— more accurately being forced to head down to the beach seeing as Sokka practically threw her over his shoulder and carried her there. Y/N vividly recalled the violent words she’d yelled at him when he threw her into the ice cold water.

Y/N is laughing alongside him, nodding,  “I do.”

She’d be saying those words again, not too far in the future. And maybe this possibility is why Y/N decides that she likes this whole peace thing, standing on the serene shores of Ember Island. Life is good when you aren’t worried about impending doom all the time, and its even better with Sokka in it. Y/N wouldn’t mind spending the rest of her life with him.

“Let’s prank Katara into thinking you proposed.” She suggested, grinning at Sokka. If the girl was so insistent on meddling with their relationship, then why not get a little revenge?

Sokka seemed to like this idea, as his eyes iit up at her words, “I love you, so much.” He exclaimed, grabbing Y/N’s face with both hands and pulling her into a kiss. 

Y/N finds herself smiling into the kiss, pulling away to say, “I know.”

“You’re supposed to say it back.” Sokka is pouting now, trapping her in his arms as he awaits the response he wants. 

Y/N hummed in reply, a pensive look on her face as she pretended to consider his words, “I guess I love you too.”

“You guess?!”

Hopefully their honeymoon would be far less chaotic, and further away from sand. 

A/N: lol writing something happy when you are sad is not it so im sorry that this is bad but i tried 🥺

​

[shit-spiced-chai-says]

Manners Maketh a Man

my first fictional piece of writing I've done in 2 years. I'm proud of it for what it is.

basically its kind of like a pre-relationship, enemies to lovers, nblm, and they're both vigilantes.

TW : mention of ped*phila, r*pists (but only in the context of they both should die), and lots of mentions of murder.

@absolutechaossystem

“I could.. legitimately.. kill you right now.” He panted out. Arm around his opponents throat, with his legs wrapped around theirs and a knife pressed dangerously close to between their ribs. Honestly he just wanted to go for a quick stroll before retiring for the evening. But apparently his self-proclaimed arch nemesis, Lana Devor, decided to ruin his favorite blue suit jacket by initiating a scuffle on the ground of a grimy alley.

“Then do it.” Sounding far too composed for someone pinned to the ground.

Groaning internally and rolling his eyes, he scoffed. “No.”

“And why is that Vincent?” They spoke in a mockingly sweet voice.

“Because you just told me to.”

“So??”

“I do not do things when people tell me to do them. It takes all the satisfaction out of it.” It's not worth the effort of having a successful kill when it wont bring you joy. There's not enough time in life to do things you don't want to do.

“Jesus Christ, you’re telling me that you, the person that has committed over 35 confirmed murders, 20 of those happening when you bombed the UN, isn’t going to kill me because it’s not going to make you happy?!”

They said it as if it’s an incredulous thought. “Firstly, you know all those world leaders were corrupt-”

“That doesn't make it right!”

“Please don't interrupt me, it's bad manners.” Vincent grunted out, having to tighten his hold on them as they gave a harsh full body jerk with their last sentence. They honestly have no composure, you'd think they were raised amongst wolves.

“You're talking to me about bad manners?! You literally kill people for a living!”

“I work outside the law, for the right reasons. Just because I take the lives of the dishonorable, instead of restraining them in what can only be described as ��Kinky Dungeon Chic’, and leaving them for the police to collect. Furthermore, as the famous quote goes : ‘Manners Maketh a Man.’”

“Oh my fucking god, did you just quote The Kingsman?”

“Colin Firth is a DILF. Besides that though, as I was saying, all those world leaders were corrupt. And if the local law enforcement had any brains, they would realize that all my other kills have been of terrible people as well.”

“Nobody deserves to die.” Lana declared with the confidence of one who has seen God.

“Pedophiles and rapists do.” They wouldn't have heard the nearly whispered statement if they weren't precisely pinned under him.

He tensed and moved the knife slightly away as they squirmed around enough to turn their head and look him in the eye. They stayed that way for what could have been hours but what most likely minutes. Silently keeping eye contact, the air seemingly electrified by the compound emotions he was feeling. They stared as if they knew his most deep-rooted secrets now, as if they understood what experiences caused his toxic actions.

Looking down and letting a small breath out, they murmured, “I'm not gonna tell you that you're right Vinny.”

“But you know I am.” He spoke just as softly, bending his head down to urge their eyes to meet his again. Both of their breaths mixing with how close they were to each other.

He was trying to recreate the moment they just had. He was so confused by their seemingly unspoken understanding of his words. He wanted to know why. If they understood his pain, even just a fraction, he could help them. They could potentially resolve this harmful relationship. Maybe even turn it into a partnership. Gods he wanted that so much. He was tired of being alone.

Any hope of that was thoroughly ruined though when they both heard the piercing sound of police sirens in the distance.

Grunting as they elbowed and kicked him sharply in the ribs and thighs in a mad scramble to get to their feet. “Dear god, was your body chiseled out of stone? I’m going to bruise now, thanks to you.” They weren't paying attention to his grumbling though, as they got to their feet. Looking across the street to what appeared to be a woman screaming that someone had just stolen her purse. Two people were standing next to her, one attempting to calm her down while the other was on the phone. Most likely talking to the god damned police.

“Fuck, we gotta get out of here.” Leaning back down to grab him by his forearms and hoisting him upright, completely ignoring the pathetic squawk he let out.

Pulling off his, now filthy, suit jacket, he sighed. “Do you know how much I paid for this? This is a luxury brand! And I am not a contract killer, it took me time and effort to save up enough money for this jacket. I had to sell my espresso machine!”

Watching him gesture wildly around, they weren't sure if they felt annoyed or fond. On one had, its a fucking jacket, on the other hand, he's kind of cute when he's mad. But in a dumb way. Either way they needed to leave, now.

Shoving him out of the way, they broke into a quick jog down the alley. Turning around for only a moment to yell “Stop fucking around and start running you dumbass!”

Leaving him spluttering for a reply he yelled back the first thing that came to his mind “Cursing isn't proper!” He realized it was a foolish thing to say the instant it left his mouth. But in all fairness it seems this whole exchange has been a bit foolish.

He looked down the alley to see them still running, but this time they were holding their middle finger in the air. Clearly in reply to his words. He may have deserved it.

Still holding his soiled baby blue jacket in his hands, he just sighed and looked to the sky. The woman across the street was crying now. Honestly she should probably take a self defense class or two if she's going to continue walking in a neighborhood like this. Obviously it's only where wanted criminals go for strolls, and to tackle each other to the ground and have almost meaningful conversation.

Hearing the sirens get closer snaps him out of his thoughts. Folding his jacket in half and tossing it over his shoulder he quickly glanced around for the quickest exit that both didn't involve walking near the street, and did not involve following Lanas footsteps. He doesn't think he can emotionally deal with two confrontations in one night.

Unfortunately the only exit point available was a sewer pipe. Looking into it, even while holding his breath, made his eyes well up in tears. He looked down at himself, most of his clothes at this point had been ruined by rolling around on the ground. He let a few tears slide out while cursing whatever entity there was that made this his lot in life.

“Well, I always knew my life would come to shit.” He opens the hatch, and slides in.

[nazyalenskyism]

And Here I Thought You Couldn't Get Any More Ridiculous

Summary: A Zoyalai fic based on the prompt from an anon: ‘And here I thought you couldn't get any more ridiculous’ send me a prompt/sentence and i’ll write you a little blurb

        “What if you married me?”

        “And here I thought you couldn’t get any more ridiculous,” Zoya huffed, taking another sip from her wine glass.         “What’s so ridiculous about marrying me?”

        “Well, let’s see,” she mocked, punctuating each point by ticking it off on a finger, “you’ll get no money for Ravka from that. You will gain no new political allies. Your people will never accept a Grisha queen. You want to marry for love. And all that aside, you are assuming that I would ever want to marry you, your highness.” 

        “All of those matters can be resolved,” Nikolai insisted, plucking the glass from her hands and taking a swig as he threw himself down next to her.         “How, Nikolai? It’s not possible to fix everything using your fast talk and charm.”

        “Improbable, not impossible, Zoya dear.”

        “Insufferable and ridiculous, maybe you really can be everything at once.”

        “I never said I couldn’t. If anything you are the contrarian in this relationship, Nazyalensky.”         “What relationship?” she scoffed, snatching her wine glass back. Even now, the king took too many liberties. She could not care less about the rumors that she was his mistress but Zoya knew that if Nikolai were to ever find a wife, those types of rumors couldn’t be floating around. She was taking too much of a liberty herself tonight, it was late and she was sharing a nightcap alone with the king in his chambers. No potential bride would want to pursue a husband who spent so much of his personal time with his general. Although, she was sure that he would be too busy spending this time they shared with his wife, enough so that he would finally let her retire to her own chambers at a decent time instead of sitting in front of the fire with him. 

        She did feel a prickle of something in her heart though, when she thought of the idea of not having this routine anymore. Zoya couldn’t quite figure out why this was, though she supposed it was likely due to the prospect of having to construct a new routine rather than fall back into what she knew. Nikolai would have his wife to spend his evenings with, and Zoya would have time to herself to do what, exactly? Tag along with Genya and David or Tamar and Nadia while the couples mooned over each other? Disgusting. Attend poetry evenings with Tolya? No thanks. Go to Count Kirigin’s revels? She’d rather spend the night hunting down Nikolai’s monster friend or worse, teaching herself how to knit. She shuddered at the thought, the cherry red wine sweet on her lips but a bitter taste remained in her mouth.         “What if I gave you a ring?” Nikolai continued, ignoring her words, “you do like jewels.”         “Didn’t you waste the Lantsov emerald on the Sun Summoner? I doubt you have enough funds to buy a gem a fraction of its size.” 

        “Really?” Nikolai laughed, “you have that little faith in me?”         “It’s not faith Nikolai, it’s basic mathematics. If you’re unable to pay off your loans, you’re unable to buy the type of jewelry that’s worth marrying a man over.”         “So I suppose I shouldn’t be in possession of this?” Nikolai waved a small black box under her nose, eyes sparkling with delight when her eyes widened slightly at the sight of it.

        “Nikolai--” her hand shot out to cover his firmly, making sure he couldn’t open the box. “I need to go,” a terrible excuse, but it was all she could think to say. This had gone from playful banter to crossing the line into being dangerous. They could not afford this, no matter how much she wanted to know what was in the box.

        “No, you don’t. Not until you see this at least.”

        Before she could shoot to her feet however, Nikolai’s hand escaped her grasp slipping craftily over her own so now she was the one who couldn’t pry her fingers free. Nikolai gave her an expecting look, and when she didn’t move, he sighed dramatically, flipping the lid open.

        She couldn’t stop the shock from flickering onto her face. There, at the center of the black box, resting on the cushion was a… folded piece of parchment? Her eyes flicked to his and he simply nodded at it, indicating that she should take it. Tentatively she unfolded it single handedly, her other hand still enclosed in his.

        “Are you serious?”

        “Aren’t I always?”

        She slapped his shoulder as a grin bloomed over his features. “I owe you one ring? You’re ridiculous.”

        He shrugged, “you know our finances as well as I do, we can’t afford that.”

        “Exactly why you need a bride who has an excess of gold.”

        “I don’t particularly care for gold.”

        “Maybe that’s why you’re the head of a bankrupt country.” 

        He considered that for a second, “no, I think it was because of my charm.”

        “Interesting word for circumstance.”

        “Circumstance, or twenty one years of training myself to be king in the making?”

        She rolled her eyes, pulling her hand from his around the box as an exhale expelled the tension that had been coiled in her. Zoya had been right, he wasn’t serious about this. It was simply Nikolai being silly with a little too much alcohol in his system. “Goodnight, King Wretch.”

        “Goodnight, commander. Don’t think I won’t be asking again when I have a ring.”

        “Once you have money, you mean?”

        “Yes,” Nikolai laughed.

        “So in two hundred some years?”

        He winked, at her as she slipped out the door, “it may be sooner than you think.” 

        “Like I said before, I thought you couldn't get any more ridiculous, but you manage to outdo yourself every time.”

        “I am nothing if not extraordinary.” Nikolai said, shutting the door behind her, and Zoya didn’t miss the sound of his gleeful laugh as she made her way back to her own chambers.

[fandomoverdrive]

Okay I just need to go on a rant about Whirl because I love him he might just be the most tragic character in the entirety of MTMTE and considering the candidates that’s a pretty hard position to cinch. Some of this is gonna have mentions re: self harm, suicidal tendencies/ideation, overall bad coping mechanisms etc so if that’s not your cuppa please scroll on. 

This gets long so here’s the obligatory read more. 

Let’s write “tragic” in flickering neon letters with the fact that Whirl’s first appearance in MTMTE, dropping the titular “how to say goodbye and mean it,” is a personal soliloquy delivered as he’s in the midst of constructing his own funeral pyre. Whirl is lost, directionless, trapped and unwilling to be such in a postwar environment. But how did we get here? 

Whirl is without a doubt a driven character. In the prewar functionist society, he had no qualms switching careers, risks be damned. Whether he’s always had a knack for disobeying authority or was simply driven by passion or both isn’t elaborated on, but he’s got a hell of a hardheaded streak that’s impossible to ignore. When destroying his business wasn’t enough to deter him from further rebellion, the Senate was happy to turn him into an empuratee and destroy not only the opportunity but the capability of continuing to rebel by pursuing his passion. This is what I’d personally consider the big ‘whump’ moment, less so the use and abuse as a pawn that followed but the point of trauma at which we begin to see Whirl’s psyche begin to twist.

From this point forward we see Whirl in and out of prison, let loose when he can be useful to someone else’s ploy and otherwise incarcerated for a buffet of offenses. No longer able to be constructive and having little if any control of his life, Whirl becomes aggressively destructive. In response to having everything he aspired toward ripped away from him, permanently, he builds a mental defense of bitterness and anger and paves over his black hole of self worth with a veneer of outright assholery. It’s here that he bares his metaphorical fangs and pushes - with gusto - anyone who might even suggest they’re trying to appeal to reason or get close to him as an individual. 

It’s hard to imagine, given even subtly different circumstances, that Whirl would not side with the decepticons for the war. While he’s single-handedly responsible for radicalizing Megatron towards violence, the ‘con intent at the start of revolution - that movement in society should be possible and a caste system based on alt mode is unethical - aligns quite nicely with what he’d already aspired to do with his life. His conscription to the side of the autobots is just another instance in which his autonomy is cast aside. 

Whirl is a tool. Whirl had a passion for watchmaking, but now he can’t, so his new passion is violence. Whirl is a gun and someone else has always told him where to point and all he’s ever been given for his cooperation is the blame of pulling the trigger. Whirl is an asshole, Whirl is unpredictable, Whirl isn’t a mech anybody would ever think twice about saving - the answer would always be no. Whirl wants to die. Whirl only wants to die on his own terms and he’ll be damned if he’s going to keel over under the orders of someone he doesn’t respect, for a cause he doesn’t believe in. 

A few years of this sort of treatment would be enough to drive anyone insane, let alone the millennia of warfare he suffered through. Worse yet is the one time he found a group, a team that was known for the unorthodox and taking on the big messy challenges, the Wreckers kicked him out. Whirl was too much for the mechs that were too much and there’s no way in hell that doesn’t still sting. 

That’s how we get here:

Whirl defends himself through isolation from others. He can’t be hurt by others if he never lets them close enough to be hurt by. In a hypersocial society, he has no close long-term friends, he is one of the few with no roommate aboard the Lost Light. He made himself as unpalatable as possible. He’s crass, he’s volatile, he makes it clear with every word and action that Whirl is first, you don’t mean anything, I’d leave you for dead in an instant..... But that’s not true, is it? 

Whirl is shown being completely, dramatically, self-destructively caring throughout the series. Between risking his life for the scraplet colony disguised as a protoform, participating in an untested spark jumpstart to save a life, coming up with a plan to rejuvenate Tailgate’s spark, and performing a spark transplant surgery on Megatron - without whom the world would never have been even a fraction as cruel to Whirl as it had been - Whirl is far from the most selfish character in the series. It’s in his nature, however, to deny such, to the point where he more than likely believes his own narrative that he’s irredeemable, self-absorbed, invincible, degenerate, and neither capable nor deserving of close interpersonal relationships. 

It’s also how we get here:

Whirl is one of the characters that we more frequently see in a state of disrepair. He fights passionately and recklessly, with no regard whatsoever to whether or not he makes it out of a scrum with all his limbs intact. Injuries like these, and those that he experiences elsewhere in the series, would put other mechs out of commission through pain alone, but as long as Whirl is conscious he doesn’t stop until the fight is over. 

As depressing as it is to think that Whirl is simply at this point accustomed to extraordinary pain, it’s even moreso to think about the more likely concept that he wants to be hurt. Whirl doesn’t have control of a lot that happens to him, but do you know what he does have control of? Who he chooses to shit-talk. More often than not we see Whirl being blatantly disrespectful of his superiors, and some of the more dangerous mechs aboard the LL. While obviously his intent when insulting Ultra Magnus isn’t to start a fight, harping on Drift (and subsequently getting cold clocked) or Cyclonus is a little more self-destructive in nature. 

While Whirl has been in therapy, we see during the encounter with Fort Max that he’d shared very little of what he actually considered traumatic with Rung. With no material to work with, Rung wouldn’t have been able to give Whirl instructions or advice as far as a healthy coping mechanism, and so I’m firmly of the belief that Whirl goes out of his way to get himself hurt as a way to have a vague sense of control. 

On his actions and guilt:

Whirl is immensely guilty. When he’s overcharged, he admits that everything feels like his fault - and unfortunately a lot is. Whirl believes he’s the bad guy, and he’s willing to take the fall for actions that others might find immoral. There’s a lot Whirl has done that he’ll likely never forgive himself for, even if he garnered the ability to start forgiving himself for the small things, but the character he’s created for himself has been part of him for so long that it’s near impossible to tell where to draw the line between caricature and his genuine self. 

At this point in time, Whirl is not capable of improving himself without external assistance. 

He has accepted (however wrongfully) that he is not cared about, trusted, wanted, or respected. 

His assumptions become self-fulfilling prophecy as he - consciously or not - works to perpetuate his image. Whirl is a dick, he’s unfazed by anything anyone says about him, if someone is insulting him they’re probably right, why bother arguing unless it’s with the intent to get in a fight? He doesn’t pay attention to others, he doesn’t pay attention to himself, nothing that anybody could say could possibly make a difference. 

Right? Right?

Wrong. Part of what makes Whirl so heart-wrenchingly tragic is that it is so incredibly clear that nobody has ever told him he mattered. Rodimus throws out what could be interpreted as a snide remark, “even the crazy bastard makes a difference,” and that aside sticks with him. Millions of years of warfare, of being a tool to use, an expendable soldier, a rabid dog to throw at their enemies, and not once did someone turn around and say he was anything good. He’s been thanked for saving lives, for contributions, for individual acts, but his reaction to Rodimus really cements in my mind that nobody has ever said that he, that Whirl, was important. 

Whirl is a broken character. He’s subsumed by his own self-hatred that he perpetuates and justifies with a mask of cruel indifference and aggressively abrasive snark. He’s alone, by what he thinks is his own choice but is really a horribly misguided attempt to keep himself safe. He’s got no potential for growth unless someone wants to force their way through his defenses in order to help him find the line between who he is and who he pretends to be in order to keep from being hurt. Whirl is terrified of abandonment, and guarantees that nobody will ever be able to leave him by never letting them come close to begin with. He’s not a good person, he’s violent and callous and has little regard for the consequences of his actions, but he is that way because of the life he was forced to lead. He falls into consistent patterns because he craves control, even if those patterns are self destructive. It’s proof of the little growth he was allowed during the course of MTMTE/LL that after their quest was over, he didn’t attempt suicide again but instead got into the revolving door of incarceration for petty offenses. 

All in all, Whirl is one of the saddest characters in any media I’ve consumed and please someone get this despicable bastard helicopter a new therapist and a stiff drink 

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Marmien - Let Us Have Tonight

So I accidentally landed in the Marmien tag while procrastinating in work earlier in the week. I got inspired by the idea of how Mark and Damien might officially begin a relationship if Damien were the sibling Mark fell in love with originally. 

It… Was supposed to be flirty. But then it went kinda sad. With that in mind, there’s a pretty strong focus on controlling parents so I’ve stuck it under a read-more.

Word Count: 1,694

-

It had been a wonderful night. Since gaining full ownership of the Manor, Mark had redecorated and brought it up to the full splendour it deserved. It was the location of many parties that would allow optimal chances to brush shoulders with the crème de la crème of the city. But tonight, it was a smaller, more important affair. Mark had invited his three closest friends over for dinner and drinks to celebrate William’s arrival home from an overseas expedition. The staff were given the night off so the four could fully unwind without the worries of anyone eavesdropping. Spirits were high as they swapped stories and snacks. William had been hired for a job that required him being security during a wildlife documentation trip. The meal was accompanied with tales of William’s adventures and mishaps. The conversation was briefly interrupted as the four partook in the chaos of attempting to clean the dishes. Bubbles were blown, Mark’s hair was soaked, but it was good times, something all of them needed.

One the kitchen was (hopefully) to the chef’s standards, they returned to the living room to lounge on the chairs and chat. They shared casual conversation, and all took it in turns to quiz Celine on the course she was taking. Her parents didn’t think it necessary that a woman get a qualification, but she decided otherwise. After all, they didn’t particularly care what she did if she did it herself. But as for her twin brother?

--

Oh, how Mark’s heart ached when he glanced at Damien. He was the youngest child, but the only son. That meant that he was the prime focus of the parents. He was left to burden the responsibilities of the family legacy, whether he wanted it or not. His life had been plotted for him with no room for discussion on the matter. Mark was sure that they would have encouraged Damien to distance himself from Mark and William because neither men were ‘suitable’ to their impossible standards, only that they had been friends since childhood. Mark was certainly thankful for that. Damien was already a lonely soul. He couldn’t bear to think about how worse it could be. He had already spent most of the evening quiet, unable to share his own tales with how restricted his life was.

It was why he jumped the gun and asked Damien to stay on when the others were getting ready to leave. Why force him back into his cage so soon? Maybe that was why Celine agreed, throwing her brother a sympathetic look, and suggested that she too would avoid going home so Damien wouldn’t face potential punishment. Damien was grateful for the support, giving a weak chuckle when William patted his friend on the shoulder and reminded him of the soldier’s promise to ‘pummel the daylights out of your old man’ if anything did happen.

When the door closed, Mark fetched Damien a glass of water. Alcohol would not help matters right now and he knew it. He didn’t want to bring the mood down any more, not when his heart was begging to do something.

A badly kept secret in the group was this: Mark had been in love with Damien for years. Not only that, it was reciprocated. 

When they were teenagers, Mark’s parents - well-known patrons of the arts with generations of money running through their veins - had hosted a party to celebrate the success of an operatic production that had been on that day. It was a rare time Damien had returned home while in university. With Celine sick at home and William in the army barracks, the pair stole away from the stuffy public spaces and hid in the library. Talk gradually shifted from the opera they had watched, to the idea of what love was and what importance it played in their families, to how they themselves viewed romance in their lives, to Mark admitting he thought Damien to be quite beautiful and that it might be the first time he’s fallen in love, to Damien quietly confessing he wants to be with Mark. Their first kiss hidden amongst the books was soft and tentative. Murmurs of love were shared with breathy whispers, but neither could do more about it beyond sharing kisses and compliments and promises to be true no matter what. Damien was caught under his parents’ thumb. If they chased this relationship further, he would have been forbidden to return to university out of the state, transferred to the local university they wanted him to attend… And would have forbidden him to see Mark again. Instead, they agreed to stay on ‘not yet’. No matter how impatient Mark was, he’d wait. No other person made him feel ‘complete’ as Damien did.

(Oh, his parents had tried to encourage him to date Celine, but he refused. Sure, she was beautiful, but waiting for Damien was one promise he would keep)

Yet as the years went by, something always happened to result in Damien asking Mark to delay his advances no matter how he wanted the opposite. Every single time, the reason would lead to Damien’s suffocating parents being the root of the problem. At least now Mark, Celine and William were old enough to work together to try and give Damien a little more independence. Even now, Celine was willing to put her neck on the line so Damien could have some time alone with Mark with William as her accomplice. Which brings us back to the present. The pair sat in silence on the couch, Damien sipping the water as he was lost in thought. Mark barely needed to tilt his head to know that Damien was weighed down by the stories Celine and William had shared throughout the evening.

“For what it’s worth, I still think you’re incredible.” Mark’s attempt to break the silence hit the nail on the head.

“Of course you would say that,” sighed Damien, not objecting when Mark draped an arm  over his shoulder and pulled him close. “You’d say that no matter what.”

“I say it because it’s true. You’re such a clever, charming, intelligent, handsome young man. I’d listen to you talk all night if you’d let me.” There was another sigh, but Mark lightly squeezed his shoulder. “Hey, no, don’t start that. I mean it. You’re so well-read, you always have something insightful to say about everything. You’ve been able to give me tips during my rehearsals for a play you’d never heard of, for pity’s sake. Those good days are coming. We’re all older and wiser, while your parents are old-fashioned farts.” Damien snorted, but he reluctantly moved back so he could look Mark in the eye. There was a smile Mark loved to see, but it was tinged with sadness.

“You always manage to face everything head-on like a wall you can easily climb. I’ve always liked that about you.”

“I’m sitting on that wall ready to pull you up whenever you want. Just say the word.”

“You know I can’t.” The conversation was spiralling back to one they’ve had several times over the years - whether or not now was the ‘right’ time to do anything with their feelings. “My parents won’t approve -”

“Your parents haven’t approved of me from the day I went into the acting profession. They haven’t scared me away, I won’t let them.”

“But -” Damien’s counter vanished into nothing as Mark cupped Damien’s chin with his hand.

“Do my advances make you uncomfortable?”

“No.”

Mark leaned in.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“So then why not be selfish, my love, just for tonight?”

They were close, so painfully close that all Mark needed to do was push forward a fraction more. But he couldn’t. He had sworn to himself that this relationship was on Damien’s terms. If Damien moved away, he would respect that. He always did. 

In that moment, Mark was sure that all his senses were amplified. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest. Damien was wearing the cologne Mark gifted him for his birthday and it made him feel giddy and light-headed. He let himself be mesmerised by Damien’s beautiful eyes.

He felt an arm snake around his neck. All he could taste was Damien on his lips.

Mark’s eyes fluttered closed as Damien indulged in selfishness and pressed against him. The kiss was quick to deepen as both men let the feelings they had bottled up spill out. Mark’s hands moved fast, wrapping around Damien’s waist and encouraging him to climb onto his lap. Damien broke the kiss to catch his breath.

“I love you. God, I - I need this. I need this so badly…” He trailed off with another kiss.

“Then stay. We can say you fell asleep on the couch and I hadn’t the heart to wake you. We can have tonight and then act like this never happened.” Mark was almost pleading. He would do anything if it meant he could have this moment.

“No… Fuck my parents. I love you and I’ve hidden that for too long. I don’t care what they think.” Damien’s stubbornness, at last, had kicked in; and both men knew it wasn’t the alcohol talking. Mark laughed and brushed a hand through Damien’s hair.

“I love you. And you know, I don’t think either the world nor history won’t care about us. Did you know they think a lot of the great historical figures in Ancient Greece were in same-sex relationships? If the world finds out, they’ll do whatever they can to pin us as close friends. I know I’ve read articles showing how wilfully oblivious the press can be if the couple travel in similar social circles” Tomorrow, Damien might decide to not be as open and bold about their relationship, but Mark would gleefully encourage it tonight as his hand pressed against the back of Damien’s head so they could kiss again.

Words weren’t needed now. They had each other. Without the world watching them, they could finally keep their promise from years ago as they broke apart and embraced.

For now, at least, they had tonight.

[reyescarlos]

#30 from the Prompt list for Tarlos! Please :3

yesss, thank you for sending in a request! hope you like it!

#30 “I love you, okay? I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

TK looks up at the sky, watching clouds drift lazily above him. This is truly a perfect day, his mind at ease in a way it always seems to be whenever he’s spending quality time with Carlos, the man who has had his heart for eleven months now. There may be other people around enjoying the warm weather too but everything outside the perimeter of the blanket they’re stretched out on now doesn’t affect him.

A Sunday picnic in the park is just one of the many simple pleasures in life that he’s been relishing in. The simplicity of being in Carlos’ company is a comfort, one that TK never takes for granted.

Carlos’ head is beside his own, his body facing the opposite direction. Carlos sighs heavily and TK turns his head to read his expression. The man looks pensive, brows furrowed slightly, his lips now pursed in thought as his gaze remains on the sky. TK lifts a hand and smooths one of Carlos’ brows with his index finger, coaxing him from his deep thoughts.

“Where’d you go?”

Carlos faces him then, a small smile on his lips though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. TK lowers his hand but Carlos takes a hold of it and clutches it to his chest.

“I’m right here with you.”

TK can’t help but to smile at the gesture, especially at the quickening thump of Carlos’ heart as the man peers over at him. Nothing seems to ground them more than physical touch; holding hands, hugging, a gentle squeeze. These little instances never fail to bring them back to base.

“Can I ask you something?” Carlos says.

There’s a note of hesitancy in the question that makes TK sit upright. Carlos very rarely sounds unsure of himself and if the look on his face now is any indicator, he appears to be truly nervous about whatever it is he intends to ask.

“Of course you can. What’s on your mind?”

Carlos falters for a fraction of a second before pushing through.

“It’s sort of about your relationship with Alex.”

The name comes out with some disdain. TK does his best to mask his surprise though he doesn’t think he’s doing a very good job of it. Carlos never mentions his ex and TK certainly hasn’t had any interest in thinking about the man, let alone bringing him up either.

“Oh? Um, sure. What about it?”

Carlos sighs and sits up too, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I’m just wondering if that experience has spoiled your views on the subject of marriage.”

TK’s eyes widen and he tries to say something but comes up short. Things have been going perfectly for them since they made their relationship official. This is without a doubt the healthiest and most stable relationship TK has ever been in. To have such a connection to someone, especially on the heels of his last relationship, TK has been pinching himself over his luck.

He and Carlos always talk about loving each other forever but now that TK thinks on it now, they’ve never explicitly talked about it in terms of marriage. It just felt like a given.

He’d love nothing more than to always have this, to be this beside himself with joy and gratitude. In Carlos he’s found true love, one that doesn’t leave him feeling drained and yet still somehow as if he’s not enough. It’s the complete opposite of life with Alex and all the failed relationships that came before.

TK hadn’t been expecting Carlos to have marriage on his mind at this moment and he’s so stunned that he can’t even say anything.

Carlos cringes a bit at his silence and TK could just kick himself for it. But before he can clarify what his silence means, Carlos keeps talking.

“I’m not saying we’re there yet, of course. I know we haven’t even been together for a full year. But I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t easily picture that kind of future with you. And if, hopefully when, the time comes for us to actually reach that stage...I don’t know. I’ve never loved someone this deeply before.

“I don’t know if it’s too soon to even be talking like this. Or if I’m bringing up things you’d rather forget. All I know is that I always want us to be on the same page because I want a happy ending with you, TK, whatever that may look like for us.”

Carlos stops then and shakes his head. “This went a lot smoother in my head,” he jokes nervously. “Sorry for being all over the place.”

TK smiles softly. “You’re doing just fine, babe.”

Seemingly reassured, Carlos pulls in a long breath and nods before continuing.

“He was important to you. You loved him enough to want to make the ultimate commitment. But since things didn’t pan out as you would have hoped,” he says, a polite understatement TK thinks, “I’m curious if you’ve written off the idea of one day marrying someone.”

TK takes notice of the word someone but doesn’t press it. He can already see how vulnerable Carlos feels now even mentioning any of this. He supposes it may just make it easier for Carlos to discuss, phrasing it this way.

“Honestly, no, he hasn’t ruined the concept for me. I’ll admit, when it first happened, I didn’t see a way out of that hopeless feeling. I didn’t think I’d ever be ready to date again. Then you came along and proved me wrong.”

Carlos smiles faintly at this, placing a hand on TK’s knee.

“I’m not ruling anything out. My life has taken turns I never saw coming, some surprises much better than others,” he says, bumping his knee softly against Carlos’ with a smile. “But through it all, all those highs and lows, I’ve grown and I’ve changed.”

“So, you could see it in the cards for us?”

TK touches a hand to Carlos’ face, stroking his cheek.

“I could. Anytime I think about our future, it looks so damn bright to me...all of this potential. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

It’s the honest truth. Each morning he wakes up grateful to have Carlos and on those particular mornings he sees Carlos in the spot beside him, he has to wonder how he’s even the same person that suffered so greatly in New York to be thriving so well in Austin.

“No has ever mattered to me this much. I know we’re in a good place with each other,” Carlos says. “ I don’t ever want to lose you or this feeling. And I know that’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, I know. I just had to put that out there.”

TK frowns. “You don’t ever have to worry about that sort of thing with me. I love you, okay? I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it. I’ll invent a whole new language just to find another way to tell you how in love with you I am, if that’s what it takes for the message to sink in,” he muses. “I don’t think I really knew what love could actually feel like until this.”

“Even with…,” Carlos trails off but TK can fill in the blanks easily.

“I’ve been realizing that what I had with him wasn’t actually love. Not in its truest form like what I have here with you, anyway. It took my life blowing up to find something real.”

TK looks off for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

“Proposing to him was a last-ditch effort to save a relationship that was so broken. I just couldn’t see it at the time...I didn’t want to, more like it. Things had been off between us for a while and I got this idea going that we just needed to be closer to fix it. I was holding on to something that I should have let go of. Loving him almost cost me everything.”

“It’s a scary thought, imagining what it’d be like if we never met. The love of my life was up in New York that whole time,” Carlos says softly. “It’s scary to think what we could have missed out on. More importantly that the world could have lost you.”

Carlos lets out a shaky breath. “I’m really glad you survived all of that. You’re the strongest person I know and I’m really, really proud of you, TK.”

TK feels his eyes stinging at the sentiment and he blinks back his tears. This isn’t something they talk about often, never mind so openly. But TK is glad for it now. As much as he hates the difficult parts of his past, it’s still a component of his present, something he’ll have to be mindful of his whole life.

But with the support of his loved ones and this man who has become his entire world, he feels confident about his successes on the road ahead.

Carlos looks down, picking at blades of grass at the blanket’s edge.

“I hate even the idea of you ever hurting but it brought you down here to me. Maybe that makes me a bad person, I don’t know. It’s selfish and so wrong to be glad that you got uprooted. I hate the circumstances but I’m glad for the result.”

TK smiles, taking Carlos’ face in his hands. He stares at him for a moment, watching the way the sunlight brings out the honey tones in his brown eyes. It’s enough to make TK melt.

His last few days in New York had been some of the harrowing and challenging days he’d ever faced. Happiness was such an abstract concept, something he didn’t think he’d ever be able to experience again. It made the unexpectedness of finding Carlos just that much more special.

“It’s not selfish and you, Carlos Reyes, are a remarkable person. I’ve never met anyone with a heart like yours. I’m glad for the second chance I got.”

He rests his forehead against Carlos’, kissing the tip of his nose, a hand cradling the nape of his neck.

“Any road that led here would have been worth it. It took a few tries but I know I’ve got it right this time. I want it all with you, Carlos. No doubts about it.”

[climbingliterature]

Kyujuro Rengoku dedication and comparison with Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Murakami *SPOILERS*

Fellow readers, thank you for reading what is ahead but please be mindful that there will be spoilers to come within this post.

As a dedication to Rengoku from Demon Slayer, I wanted to draw comparisons on how the narrator within the novel “Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World” written by Haruki Murakami. Murakami is a Japanese Writer while Demon Slayer also originates from Japan. There are many parallels within Murakami’s novel that lines up with anime films.

Image Source: https://kimetsu-no-yaiba.fandom.com/wiki/Kyojuro_Rengoku

Rengoku has many heroic features to him with a backstory that shows the strength mentally and physically he possesses. Within the film recently released, we see the physical trials he goes through in order to destroy the Lower Three demon. Beforehand, he speaks kindly with the new ones tasked to help with the journey like Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Zenitsu. As a Hashira helping the newer Demon Slayers, that seems uncommon so far in this world. There are few Hashira that seem as kind as Rengoku was with offering to train all three of them and treat them as brethren. Other Hashira that I might would say are on a similar level at this current time would be Tomioka and Sabito (in regards to helping and trying to understand / believe in Tanjiro.)

The comparisons between Rengoku and the Calcutec (narrator of this novel) can be seen in a few different scenes:

1) “How was it possible for a life of misery to be happy overall? But then I understood, that misery could be limited to the future” (389 via Kindle).

Image source: https://comicbook.com/anime/news/demon-slayer-rengoku-family-history-mugen-train-spoilers/

We learn in the film that Rengoku comes from a past Hashira, his father, who does not support Rengoku’s achievements. While Rengoku could look at the world as misery and as if he is no good, he chooses to use his strength to help others and acknowledge that he is good enough. Unlike what his father spouts, Rengoku is a heroic figure and has earned the titles he is called.

Rengoku chooses to move forward and achieve, not to live in the spoken misery his father is in.

2) “When you say you believe, you allow the possibility of disappointment. And from disappointment or betrayal, there may come despair” (351 via Kindle).

Image Source: https://otakukart.com/demon-slayer-mugen-train-does-the-flame-hashira-kyojuro-rengoku-die-at-the-end/

While this is not the exact scene I was looking to display, it still contributes similar feelings and meaning.

Rengoku’s relationship with Tanjiro shows that Rengoku chooses to believe in others and humanity. While Tanjiro is still finding the belief in himself and how he will defeat the Twelve Kizuki and their leader, Rengoku has the belief in him after seeing the potential and drive that Tanjiro has.

Though, while he tells Tanjiro that he believes in him and the road ahead. He reminds Tanjiro that believing is half the battle, but he must not give up. There will be a long journey ahead to become a Hashira of pristine and defeating the demons, but he must keep going. 

Rengoku chooses to believe in humanity even while humanity can let us down at times.

3) “No two human beings have the same mind. At the same time, human beings have almost no grasp of their own cognitive systems. I don’t, you don’t, nobody does. All we know--or think we know--is but a fraction of the whole cake. A mere tip of the icing” (255 via Kindle).

Image Source: https://www.plazajapan.com/4970381505882/

Humans are not the same and neither are leaders. Lower Three proved to be the type of demon that even the best can’t defeat alone. Tanjiro was injured and the Rengoku fighting Lower Three was incredibly fast. If Rengoku would have had help then potentially things could have ended differently. Rengoku pushed himself to the bitter end and goes to prove that sometimes we don’t see our strength but our strength from within can outshine the physical strength.

Rengoku proves that not all battles are wins, no two humans -- even Hashira -- are the same, and humanity is worth saving.

https://comicbook.com/anime/news/demon-slayer-kimetsu-no-yaiba-rengoku-flame-hashira-fem-cosplay-sexy-cute-best-anime/

RIP and Godspeed to the legend.