#i feel like this probably needs some trigger tags because it's a touchy subject but like. i dunno.

[avephelis]

(SPOILRERS ON RITPIDE EPISODE 100 if u havent seen it)

hey saw ur post on jayson ferin and thinking abt how young he was when he became a parent n if he actually loved may or not .. like he did fuck off (to go visit may) in episode 100 when jay told him may was dying so he cares for her somewhat. is it love? is it just looking out for the mother of his children ? dk

IT'S SO INTERESTING TO ME I NEED CONDI TO DROP MORE FERIN BACKSTORY MANN. personally i think at least at some point he loved may and probably still does but like. did something sour there? was he just always this way? is his idea of love just inherently flawed?

idk jayson ferin is a fascinating character to me (terrible father, fascinating person)... i kind of wonder if having kids at a young age could also be related to the ferin legacy thing? because if faye ferin is still active in the navy i'd assume she'd be pretty young for a grandmother, too. lot of thoughts about her relationship with jayson and drey.

and i think about jayson shaming jay for leaving her mother alone, back in the block arc. because he did the exact same thing, even whilst may was ill, and i wonder if he was just being manipulative or if he was projecting or if he was genuinely unaware. shaking condi and grizzly DROP THE INTERGENERATIONAL TRAUMA LORE. DROP IT.

[llvr-92]

DGM Pairing - LaviLena - Part 2

it takes so much time but here is the second part of why Lavi deserves Lenalee the most & why I think Hoshino sensei setting them up as a couple, I hope you enjoy this post. also, you can find part1 under LaviLena tag in my blog:                     

Part2:Noah's Ark Arc:

· So we started this arc with Lenalee getting sucked by Lero into the “Noah’s Ark”, as everyone falls on top of her she was unconscious the first person to go to her & pick her-up is Lavi, just look how he is protectively\closely holding her. (CH90- EP76).

· As they were fighting Debito & Jedero, Lavi told Allen to protect Lenalee and the other “Chouji” until he found the real key (CH100 – EP82).

· After that the crew leaves Krory behind Lenalee wanted to go back to him, Allen stopped her & kind of share a cute Allena moment but Lavi has to ruin it for them, Lavi is probably jealous of how Allen is holding her & how close his face to Lena face isn’t he?. (CH105-EP83).

· Allen was helping Lenalee to climb the stair he is holding her hand and then Lavi commented that “he wants to switch place with Allen”, Allen reply was “your real motivate is so obvious Lavi, he just wants to hold Lenalee’s hand”, After Lenalee letting her thought out loud, Lavi teased her about never finding a lover if she “didn’t think more sexy thought”, which makes her angry & replied to him “its none of your business Lavi” & Lavi’s answer was “it’s none of my business but…”, Lavi seems so lost to put any other word as he was also blushing & frustrated so he had to change the subject, from the way Hoshino sensei drew this scene I think it will return in the future arc you can see Lenalee noticing Lavi blushing toward her in the below right panel with a “?”, maybe she will have a flashback related to this scene in the future. (CH110 – EP84).

· After receiving the bad news about Kanda & Krory, Lenalee was terrified\worried but Lavi reaches out to her squeezed her hand & told her to get a hold of herself, at this point “I love how Lavi knows her personality & how will she react then he just act accordingly to comfort her. (CH111-EP85).

· Lenalee & Chouji are Locked-up, Lavi is the one to fight to free these two & manly to free Lenalee you can see Lenalee apologizing for Lavi as this fight is on away for her sake. (CH112).

· Lavi is shifted into Road dream world, but what Road exactly used to prepare the worst opponent for Lavi, worst dream by reading his record & peering into his memory, his opponent was his former self “Deak” & an interesting conversation started between the two\bookman, this is the important dialogue stated between the two:

· Deak to Lavi “the place of your heart doesn’t exist in this world, no matter whose heart let you in you can only watch them that’s is your punishment”, after this dialogue Lavi reply “I already know that” which is incorrect he doesn’t know as Deak answered him I wonder? Then it just happens that Lenalee appears in the next panel with this text “your eyes of the past were never lit with that weak light” as if it indicated that “Lenalee is currently Lavi’s light” (CH114-EP86).

§  But let's not forget Road real purpose is to break him mentally & for that she used Lenalee by sending her inside a coffin knowing how Lavi will react, perhaps after reading Lavi memories/record she discovers Lavi feelings for Lenalee which at this point “Lavi himself still doesn’t know his feeling yet”.

§  After he saw Lenalee he jumped & rushed to her side & he holds her closely “just take a look at how Hoshino sensei drew Lavi facial expression, how much he is so terrified”, also didn’t Lavi said a while ago this is just a dream/an illusion created by Road Kamelot yet he reacted this way toward a fake Lenalee “Lavi just can’t think rationally when it’s involving Lena” (CH114-EP86).

·  We had a flashback when Lavi first joined the order & his first meeting with Lenalee, again Hoshino-sensei choice for drawing Lavilena encounter is too beautiful, first, she gives us an overall view from the top just to showcase “there are a lot of people on the area”, but Lavi’s eyes set on Lenalee & on the same time Lenalee look at him while crying. “it’s like this is a girl & a boy encounter by fate, Lavi was so far away, yet they look at each other in the same time.

also regarding his encounter with Lenalee I believe it’s related to an answer which Lavi provided in the discussion room here is the question “Does Lavi have a thing for a cute girl with big breast” Allen answered “he’s a menace”, where Lavi had to stop him and answered “Hey, hold on! People think I only care about looks, but I'm pretty picky about personality too, “sometimes you see a girl and it just hit you” & just after this question Lavi stated that he is interested in Lenalee. 

We also seen Lenalee sitting beside him in the cafeteria, she looks comfortable with him even though he is a newbie she even pats his back.

· After breaking Lavi mentally Deak takes over his body, a fight started with Allen, Lavi was ruthless & powerful as the last hope Allen used “Lenalee is crying” hoping to influence Lavi emotionally & bring him to his sense, but why “Allen used Lenalee name, perhaps he knows that Lavi has a feeling for her, he is weak against her tears? “I will write about this in part 3”, anyway instead of influencing Lavi positively, it seems that “Lenalee name triggered him to punch Allen even harder, “just look at Deak gaze when Allen mentioned Lena name”.

why he seems pissed? This is just an assumption but “as Deak is the one taking over, he was furious because the reason why Lavi is changing is Lenalee, he knows Lavi is falling for her isn’t he? otherwise why using Lenalee as the main person to break his heart on Road dream, why Lenalee is one to appear in the flashback, why he is trying so hard to convince Lavi “she is nothing more than a small piece of history?”, falling for her will interfere with Lavi recording as he stated while Lavi’s holding Lenalee “don’t let your heart distract you & interfere with your record”, meaning whatever Bookman clan trying to achieve is at risk as we saw “Lavi breaking his bookman role multiple time for Lenalee sake on the previous arc, this arc & the upcoming arc as well.

·  Then Road stated something important I do think this will also be used on Lavi’s arc “if we ever reach there hopefully” once he becomes the bookman, which is “bookman are just onlookers for the sake of his record, he just walked alongside you guy” “those are that kid’s true feeling, you notice that Hoshino sensei put the text on Lenalee panel, even the anime version when Road said those words the frames were on Lenalee”

first, you see how these words affected Lenalee just look at how Hoshino-sensei draws Lenalee eyes she looks broken/desperate “Perhaps for the first time Lenalee was terrified from Lavi as a person”. after Lavi burned himself, Lenalee was also desperately hitting her leg wanting to save Lavi but unfortunately she didn’t have her innocence, once Allen & Lavi are out from the petrified fire she goes to “Lavi first”, instead of sharing a touchy moment, she gives him her Iron fist of love, but why Lenalee punch him in the first place I know Lavi was reckless, but it’s the same for Allen he was reckless against Tiki he didn’t get a punch, you may call me a biased but “Lenalee punching Lavi seems an act a girlfriend will do when the boyfriend had done risky thing & it’s a different vibe from when she hits Allen in the next chapter ”.

· Lavi lent his coat to Lenalee as she was revealing to much skin, just look how cute she is on Lavi’s coat, also isn’t Lavi acting like he is the perfect boyfriend, not to forget he showed a proactive side toward Lenalee being in a room with the womanizer Cross he had to rush to her with the other boys. “Lenalee are you sure he didn’t do anything to you?”

·  Personally, this arc was my favorite because I got attached to Lavi’s background & his suffering, I also know on this Arc that Lavi is hopelessly in love with Lenalee & not to mention through the years Lavi changed his name 48 times and all the previous persona are the same but Lavi differ before he was disappointed on the human race, didn’t get attached to anyone, he was only concentrating on recording, but all that changes once he encounters Lenalee, Lenalee changed him, did Lenalee changes Allen persona in any way? I don’t think so, we all know what motivates Allen it’s his promise to mana, so I do hope she gives Lavi a chance, but also Hoshino sensei put some elements which make this ship Impossible to Happen, which make me ship them more  T_T.

· I will be happy to receive any feedback positive or negative are all welcomed, BTW Part three is already finished I just need to do the final revision, but I haven’ really thought that it would be the longest one ^_^, what you all think shall I tried to delete some part or keep it long as it’s, I mean I have put extra thing such as why I support this ship, what I hate about it, my point of view about Hoshino sensei writing, an example from different Manga related to couple-endgame…..ETC.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

can we adress how toxic some of these self/harm and suicide fics are?? as someone who has struggled with these issues, treating them as just a way for the two characters to get together, or one character to be the savior who cures someone of their problems? I'm so frickin over it. continuing to put your partner in limbo by threatening this behavior when they don't give you enough attention is a symptom of something major. This is not something i like seeing romanticized. at all.

[CONTENT WARNING FOR ENTIRE POST: heavy discussions of trauma, suicide, self harm, depression, political issue mentions, and eating disorders. Please proceed with care. I am not cutting the post because I think the message is important, so scroll past until my icon disappears <3 Stay safe, My Lovelies.]

Hey Nonny

Okay, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt here because you mention you DO have struggles with these issues, so I’m going to state right up front here and say I AM NOT DISREGARDING YOUR PERSONAL EXPERIENCE AT ALL. Your view of this topic is valid, and it’s not something I am ever going to say is wrong for you. 

I would like to offer an olive branch, here, Nonny, and give you an alternative take on this, because I’m concerned that perhaps you are still coping with your own struggles and in return, you unwittingly and unintentionally are coming off as unsympathetic to other people’s coping mechanisms.

I KNOW how hard it is to see another view when yours is the only one that seems right, especially after a tragedy or after dealing with heavy things. But all I am asking is for you to temporarily extend some empathy as I discuss my thoughts in this post, and I apologize in advance if I come off as dickish, because, again, it’s hard to see past your own feelings, and I tend to give a “firm but understanding” approach to asks like this. It’s NOT meant to call you our personally. Just asking for an open mind.

I will tackle this ask in a similar fashion to this post here, which talks about shipping vs fetishization so CW for that, as well as like this post here, where we discuss pet peeves. My assumption here is that Nonny is unsure about what “romanticizing” actually entails, and how much this ask is basically Gatekeeping Fiction 101, a thing that’s been going on since the beginning of storytelling. The ask is perceived by me to be emotionally unaware of how unsympathetic it actually sounds, and in turn can unintentionally upset people who engage in these stories.

First thing’s first, Nonny, and I said it before, I GET IT. I understand what you’re going for here, why you feel it’s toxic, and why you think it shouldn’t exist. Here’s the thing, though: what you’re ACTUALLY calling for here is censorship and gatekeeping because YOU PERSONALLY take issue with something, want the fandom specially curated just for you, because it PERSONALLY OFFENDS YOU. And that, it itself, is what’s really toxic, here. Just because YOU are offended, does not mean that it’s not helpful to SOMEONE ELSE, and it’s selfish to make such a demand of people.

Let me explain.

As I mention in the link above re: shipping, many people read and write fics to cope with the reality of their own experiences. Nonny, your experience is NOT the same as someone else’s. Your pain is NOT universal, and you DON’T KNOW what that author has been through; for all you know, they spent 6 months in-hospital after attempting suicide, and they are now simply processing their trauma through storytelling. 

Or, “continuing to put your partner in limbo by threatening this behavior when they don't give you enough attention” ? It’s a VERY REAL THING that ACTUALLY happens in real life, and perhaps it happened to that author, or they want to write an alternate ending to their pain.

Or, “one character to be the saviour who cures someone of their problems?” is something a suicide survivor WISHES someone did for them. Because they feel alone in the world and don’t want to be alone anymore.

These stories are simply escapism for people, either to learn about or share what these mental illnesses do to people, or are the “fantasies” of survivors, of their ideal outcome to their own tragedies. Coping with guilt over the loss of someone they feel they could have saved. The brutal truth about realty.

And sometimes, it is because some people need a good cry and a feel-good happy ending, because real life? Well, it rarely has those happy endings and so few opportunities to let us cry, and sometimes life is just easier when we view it through the eyes of fictional characters. Do you not want someone to save you sometimes Nonny? And I mean metaphorically here, too. Someone to just take all of your hellish burdens off those shoulders for one day. Someone who will come in to save you from yourself. I know I do.

And, well, sometimes, Nonny, it makes people feel less alone in this socially distanced world.

They’re not glorifying that issue Nonny. They’re telling their story.

Here are some thoughts:

Romanticization: Some trendy teen outlet selling a shirt with “mentally diseased” written across it.

NOT Romanticization: A character in a story coming to terms with a diagnosis of mental illness and learning ways to adapt. Their partner is involved 100% and they learn together.

Romanticization: Sherlock merchandise being sold with “I’m a high functioning sociopath” (not mention ableist as all heck)

NOT Romanticization: A character self-harms because of depression, and character B helps the character through their pain and together they get proper therapy and treatment.

Romanticization: Calling yourself “OMG I’m so bipolar!” because it’s trendy.

NOT Romanticization: A clinically depressed author, who survived a suicide attempt, wanting to tell their story through characters the world is already familiar with, and one that a touchy subject can be expressed and understood by other people, because they’re not ready to write the “real” book. Fandom is a safety net for them.

See what I mean Nonny? We don’t KNOW what kind of pain these authors have PERSONALLY been through, and to censor them from having their voices heard and their stories told is just not on for me.

And let me be clear: YES OF COURSE romanticization happens EVERYWHERE. I am not denying that. But your ask is coming off like EVERY STORY EVER WRITTEN is glorification of something. By your logic:

Disabled people shouldn’t write about their disabilities because they’re romanticising themselves.

The authors with medical degrees shouldn’t write realistic med-fics because some where in the world, ONE person MAY HAVE had a similar experience as Character A and B.

Someone broke their foot in ballet so they shouldn’t write a story about a ballet dancer who broke their hip because it may offend ONE ballerina SOMEWHERE in space and time who got sideline at the prime of their career? 

Stories about LGBT+ people shouldn’t be written because homophobes think it’s icky.

We shouldn’t write about wizards because it offends high school catholic pastors (an actual thing that happened)? 

How about cancer stories because kids die of cancer all the time? 

Non-fiction autobiographies about holocaust survivors is not okay.

Science books offend flat earthers, so we shouldn’t write those.

Books about the Big Bang and a 4.5 billion-year-old earth offends creationists, so burn those.

A now-adult child rape victim writing their survival stories to help get their often-in-power abusers behind bars are taboo.

True crime stories from detectives on those cases shouldn’t be told because they weren’t the victim.

Non-fiction in general because someone somewhere may have had that one singular thing happen to them.

How about coping with grief over a parent’s sudden death because I personally might find offense in that since that was a horridly traumatic experience in my life?

Do you see how progressively out of touch this argument is? (the answer to all of these: authors should be allowed to write them, because stories make us human). Your argument leads down the very dangerous path to censorship of books, the internet, and history... to have people only read and learn what someone else dictates, leading to... well.

I’m not trying to be a dick here, Nonny, I’m really not. But I think you’re really missing the entire point of fiction and story telling. I feel you’re failing in the empathy game here, and failing to understand what romanticizing really actually is. 

Whenever I get asks like this, I always feel like the Nonnies don’t really know much about pre-Ao3. I come from “early internet” fandom age, and I’m talking before tags existed. Back when I had to go buy a book at Coles and guess what was in it based on a cover description. No “amazon reviews”. No “harmful content warning” stickers. You just picked up that book, and sometimes you get a sweet story about a friends exploring an alien landscape, and other times WHOOOPS ACCIDENTAL ALIEN SEX I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR. And sometimes, it ended with a dark story about death, and the reality of coping with it.

Twenty years ago, books on the shelves at bookstores and libraries were the only place you could do your reading and they certainly do NOT have tags on them... Modern tagging of stories are a REALLY recent thing introduced probably no less than 15 years ago and was perfected by Ao3 (which was started in 2009). 

These days, there is no excuse if you only consume fanfiction on Ao3. Fics are tagged with proper possible-trigger tags 90% of the time. They have a VERY METICULOUS filtering system. You aren’t being forced to read the fics, you don’t have to read the fics, so use those tag filters, they exist for a reason.

So, with that in mind, I genuinely DON’T GET this attitude about people wanting everything sugar coated and saccharine by default. Especially when you can LITERALLY CURATE YOUR OWN CONTENT. Life isn’t sugar coated. And fiction shouldn’t have to be either. People tag fics with triggers for a reason.

As they used to say back in my early internet days: Don’t like it? Don’t read it. Don’t comment, skip, next story.

And to put this ALL into perspective, so that you don’t think I’m talking out of my ass, I’m going to reveal something here: Do you know what fics I can’t read, Nonny, because they trigger me? Eating disorders. That’s self harm, Nonny, in a very different way. But you know what? I know that those fics DO help other ED people so I’m not going to sit her and tell people NOT to rec or write them. And some of those authors who write those stories are processing their own ED through those stories, healing in their own way. And you know what I do when I see one of those fics? I don’t read them, move on, next story.

I’m sorry if you perceive this as me being harsh with you here, Nonny, and you DON’T have to agree with me and you can block me and never talk to me again, and I’ll understand. As I stated at the beginning, I’m offering an alternative perspective, and helping you to see that some people take comfort in these types of stories.

I think what this all boils down to Nonny, after all of this, and rereading your question a final time to see if I missed covering anything, is that (and feel free to shit on me if I am wrong here) I’m getting the impression – as an unprofessional outsider looking in – that you’re still struggling with your inner demons, whether you realize it or not. The tone and brashness of your ask has me believing this... It feels like it was written after a trigger-moment and you needed to vent AT someone because you are alone, and that hurts my heart so much. I truly hope you find peace in your mind, soon, and I hope you have someone to talk to professionally, or at least a friend. (tw under link, suicidal ideation discussion and links to phone numbers that can help you). I only wish the best for you, my Nonny.

Anyway. I welcome other people to chime in here, respectfully, and let me know if I have the wrong take here. Because I genuinely don’t think I do, but I am not a professional, so my entire thing that took me 3 hours to write here is probably moot. I’m especially interested (on anon in my asks if you’re not comfy with revealing yourselves) on thoughts from other people who have survived the original topics here, as well as any therapists and authors as well.

Take care of yourself Nonny. And please curate your own content for your mental health. Ao3 has an “exclusionary tag system” as well, please use it. *hugs*

[lostgirlrewatch]

1x10 - The Mourning After

Written by: Michelle Lovretta

Directed by: Paul Fox

Original Air Date: November 21, 2010

What the fuck happens in 1x10 again? I can’t even see straight. *wine sloshes in glass*

Oh.

Okay, so the premise of this one is that some Fae is making a bunch of women write horrible slut-shaming things about themselves on walls and then commit suicide. Pretty touchy subject, and not pleasant or comfortable. The villain is also, shocker, a really creepy misogynistic slut-shaming asshole. It’s all pretty yikesy.

But this one’s good. A classic. Lotta classic lines. Lotta good character moments. Lotta big plot stuff making a dramatic entrance.

Bo is forced to go talk to Lauren for information on the case, and oh my god you can cut the awkward tension in this scene with a knife.

“She had sex about an hour prior to her death. It appears consensual,” says Lauren.

Oh. OOF. The look that Bo gives her at that last comment is fucking scathing. Then Bo says, “Not so sure I trust your judgment on sexual matters.” 

Ha. HAHA! Oh my god. Fuck yeah, Bo. Throw that shade exactly where it belongs.

The fact that Lauren making an innocuous comment about sexual consent, specifically, is what triggers Bo’s anger, is really telling. Because Bo doesn’t really see her sexual encounter with Lauren as consensual anymore. It was consensual at the time, at least in her mind, sure. But Lauren’s lying, emotional manipulation, and ulterior motives have clearly complicated her memory of the experience. She feels betrayed on a much deeper level than just, “Oh, she lied,” if we’re bringing up the topic of consent.

Lauren was the one who made the first move; she nudged Bo into it. And Bo said “yes,” but she was consenting to sex with Lauren that night on the assumption that she and Lauren had a genuine emotional connection, and that Lauren was super eager to pursue it. Finding out that that’s not what was going on on Lauren’s side renders that consent null and void. This was not a simple misunderstanding on Bo’s part--this is misinformation that Lauren was deliberately feeding her. Regardless of whether Lauren actually has feelings for Bo, those feelings are not why she lured her into bed that night.

This is not the last time the topics of Lauren and dubious sexual consent will be brought up together. Shocker. 

She’s a piece of shit. But anyway--

Bo and Kenzi head to the bar to find clues about who the victim had sex with right before she died.

And--oh. 

I love her entrance. As Bo and Kenzi slip out of frame, we see “Saskia” just casually walk towards us. Bold, dramatic, clearly important. The framing of this shot is so cool.

Subtle, Bo. Also, I notice that Bo is just “Bo,” but Kenzi is “Astra” at one table and “Svellana” at another.

“Oh, my favorite literary quote about regret! Wow. Fun. Um, well, I think it was the great poet, uh, Ludacris! Who said, ‘Regret is for suckas, for suckas, for suckas. Regret is for suckas...bitch."

Saskia: *sits down*

Bo: “Oh, wow. I didn’t know this was girl on girl too.”

Gross. No. Please don’t say that. (About her.)

OH. OH NO. THAT’S CURSED.

ME TOO, KENZI.

Later, Saskia is like, “You should have marked your territory.”

Kenzi: “Like what, pee on it?”

Bo wants to stay and talk with Saskia, the first succubus she has ever met, so she can ask her all sorts of stuff about their kind, and so on. Kenzi, meanwhile, feels a little neglected. She goes to the Dal to hang out with Trick, but Trick is just rude to her. I’m starting to notice Kenzi feels neglected really easily.

It’s a mood, though. I know exactly how she feels.

Just look at how excited she is when Trick asks for her help, and specifies that he wants her help, not Bo’s or anyone else’s. When Trick asks for help initially, Kenzi’s kneejerk response is, “Should I go get Bo?” When Trick tells her that it’s her help he needs, she is genuinely surprised. Kenzi craves being valued as an individual and seen.

Saskia: “Your mom is probably a succubus.”

Ha. Yeah.

Seeing Bo and Saskia tag team this creep is kind of badass. Too bad it’s short-lived.

HALE. HAAAAAAAAAAALE.

I miss Hale. Why isn’t he utilized more? For fuck’s sake.

They beat the bad guy, and Saskia almost kills him. Bo, of course, is mortified by this, because she’s not a murderer. Saskia, on the other hand, is like, “Um? This guy is a serial killer who has violently murdered a ton of women and almost killed you? He can die?”

Look, I’m no advocate for murder. But I can’t lie and say I don’t relate to that energy.

Bo dramatically hugs Dyson in front of Lauren just to piss her off. Gotta love the passive aggression.

In the end, Bo and Saskia massively disagree over the morality of killing someone, and Saskia skedaddles out of town. Bo is crushed over this; Saskia is the first person she has ever met from her own kind, and worse, Saskia left before Bo got to learn better chi control from her.

She hugs Kenzi when she comes back and tells her that she missed her. Then she does something really nice and asks Kenzi about her day and problems instead of immediately diving into venting about her own. It’s a nice moment. One step forward, before we go through the next couple seasons and proceed to take two steps back.

*rubs hands together* *whispers* But I love the drama.

So we met Saskia this episode! Who is surely not a really important character and is surely just a one-off character who will never appear again!

I have to say, I enjoyed this one. Saskia and her actress bring a really intense, chaotic energy to the show. She’s dangerous. But also weirdly likable? Right off the bat, we know that we can’t trust her, because she’s sketchy and has massive chaotic energy, but she brings an edge that the show was seriously missing, and carries with her some incredibly valuable knowledge that makes it hard for Bo to resist letting her in.

She’s interesting. She’s a wild card, thrown in at just the right time in the season.

She strikes you as existing in a kind of moral gray area, rather than being an outright villain. But we will just have to see.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Home Away From Home

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: You’re not sure who is stealing your clothes but you would like it to stop. Please and thank you.

Prompt: Written for @gabriel-monthly-challenge’s November dialogue prompt: “Hey, I’ve been looking for that! But…why is it here?” [And so tagging mods: @archangelgabriellives, @ttttrickster, @archangel-with-a-shotgun, @warlockwriter, @archangelsanonymous, and @revwinchester.]

Quick facts: Romance – Gabriel/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff; ‘Sugar’ as term of endearment; angel nesting

Words: 1784

A/N: I think over the years I have read through every nesting fic I have found. I have a lot of weirdly specific tropes I really enjoy and this is one of them. Logically yeah angels probably aren’t like birds and their wings probably don’t have feathers and blah blah I don’t really care, I’m just gonna wrap myself up in this conceit like a cozy blanket. Pure self-indulgence, my friends; I am aaaaaall about it. I hope you can enjoy it too, ‘cause this is pretty much what it says on the tin. As for where this takes place in the canon timeline, it would probably be after an alternate S13 ending with no Michael!Dean and the AU!Hunters are settling in elsewhere. Because I am Lazy.

    You have a problem.

You, specifically. As in: only you. No one else has this problem. Not that it’s life-threatening or anything; it’s just…

Your clothes keep going missing.

Nothing that makes it really gross, thankfully, but things that do make it personal, and absolutely nothing that can be explained by a hungry dryer. All your socks are fine. All your favorite shirts, however– the ones that have survived enough hunts to become well-worn– have vanished. That one magical jacket you could wear comfortably in the spring but which also kept you warm in the winter– gone without a trace.

You’re officially fed up when your absolute favorite shirt, the one that’s ridiculously comfortable and the most flattering thing you have ever owned, goes missing.

“I swear I’ve never heard of a creature that eats clothes. You can look it up yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“I will. Also– stop laughing at me.”

Sam, chuckling, shakes his head but goes back to wiping down his gun. Jack, who’s sitting nearby and carefully polishing a knife, stops and frowns. “Could it be a…” He looks uncertainly from you to Sam. “…A ghost?”

“There are no ghosts here, Jack.” Sam smiles at him reassuringly. “This place is warded against just about everything.”

“Besides, I checked.”

Sam gives you a Look. “You checked? For a ghost?”

“I had to do something!” You put down your gun and rag. Any more polishing and you’ll probably put a new hole in it. “This isn’t natural.”

Sam scoffs. “Sometimes the simplest explanation is the correct one.”

“I thought of that, which is why I didn’t say anything for weeks,” you say. “But the whole point of a prank is to get a reaction and nobody has even alluded to it. So no, nobody took them as a joke.”

Sam’s face scrunches. “Okay. That is weird.”

“Right?” Puh-lease; living in the same space as Gabriel and Dean, how could you not first assume it was a joke?

“How would stealing your clothes be a joke?” Jack asks

“Who even knows with this crew,” you say. You can’t help but frown at the bittersweet recollection. “Dean and Gabriel used to love to play jokes. Especially Gabriel.”

There’s a bit of silence (and mental cursing of asshole demons on your part) until Sam clears his throat. “How is Gabriel? I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

More than that; it’s been at least a week since he left. “He took off to do something with Cas. I’m sure they’ll be home soon.”

Sam frowns again. “Cas is with Dean. They met up yesterday and went to check out a possible werewolf thing.”

There’s a bit of panic in you at that– Gabriel is gone and alone– but you shove it down. If that’s the case then it’s only been a day, and Gabriel needs his autonomy. No matter how much you wish you could roll him in a bunch of blankets and keep him close. “Well, he must be fine or Cas would have said something.”

“Right.” Sam clears his throat and goes back to cleaning his weapons. “Now that his grace is back in working order he’s probably just…spreading his wings.”

“Yeah! Yeah.” You throw yourself into that idea. That he hasn’t taken off. Or worse. “He’s used to a different standard. It’s probably weird for him to live underground.”

“Yes.”

“Exactly.”

Jack looks very confused but when your eyes glance over him he nods quickly in solidarity. You smile. Cas and Sam may be the Dads Prime, but the way he’s taken to Gabriel is cute. Well, sometimes family is three jaded hunters and two Heaven-averse angels.

“I think I’m going to go see if I can spruce up his room,” you say and start picking up your things. “Maybe if I clean it up, make it smell nice, put a picture or something…maybe it can feel more like a home.” And less like a cell, you think but don’t add.

Sam looks like he wants to say something, but he just smiles awkwardly and says, “Good luck.”

  Apparently you don’t need it. You thought Sam’s well wishes were warranted– whenever you’ve seen glimpses of Gabriel’s room it’s always looked like utter chaos. Standing in it now with cleaning supplies and some knick-knacks, it’s actually…nice. Chaos maybe, but controlled chaos. The bed in the room is not the original one, but it’s also not opulent enough to hold your attention.

What does catch your eye is the giant pile of fabric on the floor that, from your little glimpses, you had assumed to be a mess of discarded laundry. It’s not. The shape of it is purposeful; sort of square, sort of rounded, and formed by a ton of blankets as well as clothi–

“Hey, I’ve been looking for that!” You fall to your knees on the soft pile and grab your favorite jacket. “But…why is it here?”

And that’s not the only thing stashed in the pile. You find all of your missing shirts, a tan trench coat that looks exactly like what Cas wears day in and day out, and a few other shirts that you can trace back to Jack, Sam, and even Dean.

“Seriously, what the fuck?” But you’re not angry so much as confused. Okay, a little annoyed, but still mostly confused and trying not to judge. If Gabriel was trying to pull a joke, it would’ve come to fruition by now. So why does he have your stuff, and why does it look like he intends to keep it?

“Gabriel,” you say evenly. “When you have a minute, come back to the bunker. We need to talk.”

You ball up the trash bag, dust a little, and light some candles to make the place smell a little less like an underground hideaway. On the dresser, you place a photo of Sam, Dean, Jack, and Cas that you took. Then you sit on the foot of the bed, facing the blanket pile, and wait.

“Please tell me nobody triggered another apocaly–” Gabriel, now next to you, stops so suddenly there might as well be a record scratch. The fact that there isn’t one is telling. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Um, you said I could ‘come by anytime,’” you say, finger-quotes and all. “‘Mi casa es su casa’ and everything. You even amended it to ‘mi habitación.’ Remember?”

“Oh.” Gabriel deflates and looks back and forth between you and the pile. “I really don’t want to have this conversation. Can we not have this conversation?”

You shrug. “I can’t stop you if you’d rather leave, but you should know that if we don’t have this conversation then I am always going to be wondering why you’re sleeping with one of Dean’s shirts.”

Gabriel grimaces. A confirmation if ever you’ve seen one. “So you do sleep in it!” You look from the floor to the bed. The bed which feels very nice. “Why are you sleeping in a pile of clothes instead of your bed?”

Gabriel looks offended. “It’s not just a pile of clothes.”

“Sorry; pile of clothes and blankets.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s a nest.”

You look down at the…nest. You’re sure you don’t know exactly what that means to him, but you can guess at it. “Oh. Is it an…angel thing?”

“Yes,” he says sourly, head ducked down so you can’t see his face. “In heaven you twine grace with your siblings. On earth you have to…adjust. Slightly.”

You take a moment to pick that apart. Siblings; being close. “It’s about family then?” you ask. He nods. He’s lifted his head again but he looks so miserable, you try to make a joke. “Does that make me your favorite then?”

He snaps his head up and looks quizzical. Yeah, a joke at your expense almost always does the trick. You gesture at the sub-collection of your closet. “You have more of my stuff than anyone else.”

Gabriel actually smiles a little at that. “You’ve always been my favorite.”

“Really?” You clamp your hands on your mouth– that was embarrassingly eager. But Gabriel doesn’t seem to care. He’s staring at you, expression calculatingly inscrutable. And yet…

You clear your throat. “So…those are my favorite clothes. What are the chances of me getting them back?”

Gabriel smiles mischievously and folds his arms up to tap his finger to his lip, like he’s thinking very hard about it. You should be worried by that, but it’s such a rare sight these days you’re too happy about it to worry about what’s going to come out of his mouth next. “I’ll think about giving them back.” Gabriel is suddenly lying in the nest like he’s waiting for you to paint him like one of your French girls. He pats the space next to him. “If you help break in the rest of it.”

It’s not quite how you fantasized about him inviting you into bed (which is impressive, considering all the various scenarios you’ve cooked up), but hell, you’ll take it. To offset how you scramble in so enthusiastically you might as well have “Pathetic” tattooed on your forehead, you joke, “Is this a scent thing? Should I roll around?”

“It’s really more of a ‘presence’ thing,” he says as you lie next to him. “But I wouldn’t mind it.”

“What if I roll onto you?”

He stares at you. You cringe. Shit. Touch is, well, a touchy subject ever since Asshole-modeus. “Sorry, I…I guess I shouldn’t say that.”

“Not unless you mean it.”

Hope surges in you. He looks serious, and you try to match it. “What if I do?”

He studies you, like he’s not sure if you're serious. And here you thought you were always pathetically obvious. “Really?” he asks, frowning in a way that makes you want to kiss those creases right off his face. How could he ever doubt?

“I always have been. Just…” You shrug. “What does a hunter, some random human, have to offer someone who dates demigods and can create perfection whole cloth–”

He kisses you. Firmly, and he doesn’t let up until he steals the breath right out of you. When he pulls back you’re left panting but your eyes trail to wet lips curling into a smirk. “Sugar,” he drawls. “I may not like my dad that much but even I have to admit…” His fingers trail up your temple and down behind your ear. “When it comes to workmanship, he’s second to none.”

You duck to hide your ridiculous smile. “Um…” You clear your throat. “This nest is actually really comfortable.”

“It is now,” he says and pulls you in.

[connywrites]

quicksands of the mind

and the sinkholes you may find

-

content warnings for suicidal ideation, self-harm

He hadn’t wanted to kill himself in a long time. Even on a bad day, he’d tell himself he didn’t want to attempt suicide at all, but the deeper scars in jagged horizontal lines down his forearms reminded him otherwise. There wasn’t much memory with them aside from waking up in the hospital with blurry vision, unable to hear properly while the nurses asked questions, watching him jitter and shake. Watching him dig and pull at his own skin and having to pull him away, just short of restraining him as he wasn’t actually violent and didn’t have enough strength to do any real damage, but having to make sure he’d keep his hands to himself for the rest of the night.

Death, itself, was a far-fetched concept for someone who had always avoided it by the skin of his teeth. Leo had gotten in fights, been mugged, stabbed, smacked, punched, hit, crashed his motorcycle and wound up in the hospital with grave injuries and a permanent limp, taken bullets, and while a fair collection of his scars were self-induced, they were never quite so severe as to what others had done to him. It fed into the idea that he was a coward if he wasn’t brave enough to take it to the next level, but the thought that maybe it was because he simply didn’t want to die had revisited him more than once.

Thus it left him in a battle against himself, in a dark room, surrounded by comfortable blankets, a warm meal and some candles, as Markus made a habit of setting up. His old friends would be jealous; he knew they would because he experienced that exact envy ever since Markus came to be. To be birthed into a perfect world, to live with wealth and gratitude, to want to give and to be given back to, to live with someone that gave and gave and gave so much; the person that was his own father, in a home that could have been his own, with kindness and empathy that he could have had. Love was theoretically a natural deterrence against misery; why would you make the ones that cared about you suffer by letting yourself go, giving yourself the freedom of nonexistent peace while they were left to pick up the ugly pieces? Suicide was the coward’s way out, yet it somehow felt more embarrassing to try and get someone else to do the job, whether they knew your intentions or not.

Carl gave and gave, and he took and took, and Leo had the audacity to be angry when his gentle-hearted father stopped giving, trying to pull it to a full stop 28 years into his life. Well overdue, in his mind. The tears stung his eyes and the knot swelled in his throat, and the nausea welled in his stomach as he remembered everything he’d done. The way he’d spoken to him, the way he torn him and his life down with all of the 5 swear words he seemed to hold in his very limited vocabulary.

You won’t help me, so I’ll just help myself.

A vile, evil person, he’d convinced himself he was long before he could differentiate himself from the drugs. Feeling like a shitty person before he ever hit puberty and long after he’d left his teenage years behind, it took multiple hospital visits, near-death experiences and long nights doing things he’d regret with worse emotions than he’d convinced himself the rage ever was; it took multiple attempts to sober up to differentiate that it wasn’t him at all.

Red ice made him angry, and withdrawals from red ice made him angry. Sobriety left him miserable, and since he’d convinced himself he’d be miserable no matter what, he could certainly allow the excuse to do drugs. To get into fights, to stare down the barrel of a gun while he challenged the trigger finger until it blew, to antagonize and steal and lie and believe that it was all worthwhile in the favor of why wouldn’t I do it, anyway? And life doesn’t mean anything in the end or if I’m going to die young, I might as well make it fun.

None of it was fun. Nothing was worthwhile and it never lasted longer than a burnt soda can with singed ashes resting in the bottomside curve, dripping into the container that’d been full of cola he’d poured down the drain after jabbing the holes, too nauseous to ever consider taking a drink.

Seeing red.

All his life. His mother, his father, his lack of any sort of care-giving whatsoever made it all too obvious that nobody was going to care and subsequently, why should he? His birth was an accident. His mother was paid to raise him, and when the money was gone, so were her patience.

He knew what that was like. Maybe he got it from her. Carl was such a saint with seemingly eternal intelligence and wisdom, he could barely believe they were related by blood. So lead to the delusion between years ten and twenty-two that he might have been – probably was – adopted until he finally couldn’t take it anymore and had to look up the family history.

He was never in the old photographs, his mother too embarrassed to include him in such a thing.

Then again, she didn’t have any pictures of Carl either. He wondered who were in all those photos on her walls were supposed to be, let alone if they ever really meant anything to her.

Photos were artificial, mirrored captures of the past, and why would you hold onto that? He couldn’t think of a moment he’d want to take a picture of, that he was happy about or proud of. He never smiled in the camera – sometimes he glowered into to lens from afar when he was in group photos at the parties, tagged for some kind of crazy escapades he’d taken part in on the social media platforms until those people, too, grew tired of him. Stupid, boring, violent. What’s your problem? What the fuck is wrong with you?

‘What is wrong with me?’ There was a suffocating discomfort as he took in his surroundings, the disassociation spell abruptly ending as he realized where he was again.

Everything. Everything was wrong.

Nothing. The drugs were wrong.

When nothing felt right, he did what he’d always done; left the area to go on a long walk until his legs hurt and he’d exhausted himself, physically and eventually mentally, awake on days-long insomnia binges until his brain couldn’t function. Time wasn’t a fathomable concept to him at the moment so he didn’t bother checking the clock or otherwise identify the surroundings for indications, staggering in a tired daze as he’d walked towards the door.

Leo knew he would be there as soon as he opened it, as Markus had a nature to do – particularly when he was in a bad place. He had no idea if he’d been there the whole time, nearby, or somehow heard his thoughts from across the mansion with his super-sonic bat hearing, but either way, he’d always come even when he wasn’t summoned.

In the past, it was unnerving. Sometimes it was scary. Usually it was annoying.

Tonight, it was nothing short of appreciated.

“Bro,” he murmured with a strain in his voice, something like an agitated whine as he acted outright bothered by his presence.

“Brother,” Markus replied with only slight mock-disdain wrapped within his sincere concern, as he didn’t feel so much like reciprocating whatever deflection Leo was trying to give in regard to his bad mood. Leo may have tried to be secretive about his depression, but the signs were there; from skipping meals, isolation, and losing sleep to the fatigue, lack of ability to focus or concentrate, the way he moved slower on his feet and seemed to be in a daze, how his limp got worse as the aches in his joints increased. How long had Leo showed symptoms that he’d felt this way? Two weeks ongoing. Why? Markus wasn’t sure, only able to shuffle through his library of estimated guesses, and even then, he preferred not to in favor of avoiding the mistake of making assumptions. Leo’s business was his own, and by now, he knew he could share it if he so felt the need.

The tears wasted no time returning to Leo’s swollen, baggy eyes, sclera reddened from the strain of lacking what he physically needed and feeling too many emotions that he didn’t.

Markus opened his arms and he was all too eager to fall into them, letting his body grow weak. Not unlike the way he did the boy’s father, Markus shifted to kneel and prompted Leo to do similarly, curling his arms around the back of his legs while he let his body grow lax, finally able to trust as Markus scooped him up in his arms. Fingers curling into the fabrics of the soft, white cotton sweater, he hid his face into his chest as he let himself be carried away from the room.

For a long time, Leo refused to be looked after, and for a short time, Markus refused to pamper him. Eventually, they’d learned to meld Markus’ natural design as a caretaker, as well as Leo’s neglected internal need to be taken care of. Now, it had nearly come naturally for both of them.

Markus knew the signal for the routine, wandering to the bathroom, ensuring he was gentle as he settled Leo on the stool that he’d returned to the area – it was Carl’s to use when he was brought in for the oral hygiene routine, now left by the bathtub rather than the sink so Leo could sit down without being on the floor as Markus was aware of his exhaustion, always present and ever-increasing. The less energy he used, the better. While Leo settled in the space he was given, Markus leaned to turn on the faucet, adjusting it to a warm temperature but avoiding the hotter end in case of inducing a fever.

“Arms up.” With his head down as he was already half dozing off in his seat, Leo straightened up to look at him through squinted eyes, taking a few seconds to understand the command before doing as he was asked. Careful not to further alarm or hurt him, Markus took the shirt by the hem and pulled it up over his shoulders, then along his arms until it was peeled off.

“Would you like me to?” The subject was touchy, so he never finished the sentence. Leo responded with an awkward nod, crooked as his body swayed. Reaching for the waistband of Leo’s pants to tuck his fingers beneath the rim the same way he had with the sweater, it took a bit of nudging to peel them down and away, his attention focused on Leo’s face for the sake of the man’s own dignity even if he wasn’t entirely coherently aware of the situation. Once the clothes were folded and put to the side, he rose to his feet to reach under Leo’s arms in the proper, harmless way so as to lift him and bring him to the bath.

It was personal, and some might consider it intimate; now, it had become nothing more than natural.

“S’this what it was like with dad?” Feeling the warmth of the bath warm his feet, then his ankles, up to his legs, Leo roused, feeling another bout of tears roll down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why, losing track of the reason for his despair hours, days, weeks ago.

“Somewhat,” Markus replied simply. Leo was in no condition to make conversation, but he also respected the fact it seemed to help him to speak. With his hands making way to the water, Leo watched the flow of transparent liquid, feeling a bit more awake from the sensations and temperature change.

“I loved him. I really did.” That was why he was crying, and the waterworks were only encouraged by his increasing depression. Settling on the floor next to the tub in a comfortable position, Markus reached forward to thumb the tears from his cheeks – an impractical gesture as he knew they wouldn’t stop, but a useful one as Leo would appreciate the heartfelt action.

“I know.”

No, you don’t, his mind argued, but his mouth was too tired and his head was too sore. Markus caught on.

“There is more to you than what you did in the past,” Markus reminded him, neglecting the use of who you were as he was well aware that Leo’s negative personality aspects were stirred up for good reason, but most of which was external from parental neglect and the incessant substance abuse.

“Remember that.”

Leo felt the lump in his throat again as he turned his head to glance at Markus, unable to put together an entire meaning to the words he said, but trying to register them nonetheless.

“Will it ever stop hurting? His death.” This time, Leo wiped at his own tears, too tired to acknowledge that it was a waste as his hands were wet from the water anyway.

“I want the caramel one.”

“Got it,” Markus responded to the request first, opening the cupboard under the sink to grab the requested bath soap, squeezing a generous amount into the pouring water before putting it away again.

“I can’t answer that for you, Leo.” Leo cringed from hearing his name, as if it had somehow hurt him.

“Tch, who named me that, anyway? I bet mom flipped over one of those stupid baby books and pointed with her eyes closed. Probably was drunk, too.” Bitterness dripped from his words, and Markus neglected them; responding to Leo in this state in any way, bad or good, would only encourage the negative thoughts and he’d quickly learned not to do so.

“Pillow?” Eyes now closed with the tears slowing, Leo nodded. Repeating the action as with the bubble bath, he retrieved the item from the closet, setting it against the porcelain rim and ensuring it was firmly set in place before he put an arm around Leo’s upper back, supporting him from behind the shoulders as he slowly leaned him back.

Leo had learned to appreciate the care, but it had taken him a long time, and for the most part, he didn’t accept it – the usual exception being nights like this, when he’d given up every last desire to fight. When he was too tired to remember being so vulnerable, when he’d let Markus touch and hold without his internal defiance telling him to refuse, to feel invaded like he’d been so many times before. When he’d needed so badly to be looked after and wanted so simply to be loved that the idea of a machine replicating such a thing was dissipated from his mind, and Markus was no longer cold metal and plastic; only warm hands and soft words.

“Did dad want to die?” Markus stiffened in place, frozen by the unexpected question.

“He loathed the probability of it, but he tried to live his life to the fullest, even if he didn’t feel like he was.” Was that too many words? Markus wasn’t sure, toying with the idea he might have been saying it just as much for himself.

“What do you mean?” It was too many words.

“Carl knew it was coming. I would not say he craved death, but over the time I spent with him, he focused on it more.” It was strange to Markus, the way Carl had spent his last days griping over the people around him, the artificial art industry, his own body’s faults and the fact his age was catching up to him. It made Markus feel no better, but it didn’t hit home so much until after it was much too late.

“Why are you asking?” It was dangerous territory, and generally Markus knew better than to ask, but the worry began to overcome his consideration for Leo’s personal boundaries.

Leo’s eyes opened and he turned his head to look at Markus, somehow looking even more exhausted than he was moments ago. Markus turned off the faucet, dipping a hand into the bath water to ensure its temperature was still ideal.

“I never thought I’d grow old. I still don’t think I will. But he had so much to live for.” Markus’ eyebrows lowered slightly as he didn’t fully understand the sentiment.

“You have plenty of years ahead of you. Whether you have anything to live for is a matter of opinion, and therefor up to you.” Pausing, Markus decided it was finally time to ask.

“What’s the matter?”

The tears came again and Leo closed his eyes, sighing.

“I don’t know.” Slightly stunned, Markus didn’t expect the answer, as Leo almost always had a reason to be upset, even if it seemed minor or nonsensical to anyone around him, sometimes even himself.

“I just… I don’t feel so good.” Markus tilted his head, feeling an urge to reach forward and pet his brother’s hair back in a show of consideration, but that was too close, he knew too well after months of experiencing and discovering Leo’s own personal space and when, where or why he wanted to be touched.

“Elaborate?” He paused, catching the fact he hadn’t watched his vocabulary.

“Explain, please.” Leo was too tired to snarl at his own stupidity, rolling onto his side to face Markus, though his eyes remained closed.

“I don’t feel well and I don’t know why. And it won’t stop.”

Then it clicked.

“If you would like, I can book you an appointment to see someone. I know you do not trust therapists, but there’s a walk-in clinic. You fill out some paperwork, tell them your problems and they suggest some medication.” Leo immediately furrowed his eyebrows at the idea of pills, scowling.

“I know you don’t like them,” Markus added wittingly.

“But they might help you feel better, even just a little.”

“Okay.” He didn’t feel like arguing. Markus was aware he’d likely forget his agreement tomorrow, but they could discuss that when the next day came.

“We should get you back to bed.” Leo didn’t say anything, reaching for the side of the tub as if to go and pull himself out. Markus couldn’t help but smile at his stubborn insistence for something like that, in a state like this, patting him on the hand in a faux mocking gesture that was playful in its motion. Leo opened his eyes with more alertness than he’d felt before he started crying in the first place – catching the smile, the restlessness in his mind settled again.

“I take that back. I should get you back to bed.” Looking lost, as if he didn’t remember how he got here, Leo’s eyes widened as he recoiled on himself, closing his legs and bringing them close to his body in a moment of recognized embarrassment.

“Oh, really? Now?” This time, Markus couldn’t help his own sarcasm, even if it was in jest.

“Come on, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Markus’ extent of maturity was elusive to Leo, and it still showed every day as he didn’t understand, only felt his metaphysical boundaries being penetrated as he was aware of his aches, pains, scars and natural bodily anatomy all over again, cheeks reddening when he looked off to the side. Shifting to sit up, he lowered his legs and held up his arms as he’d done when he’d went to forego his shirt, cuing Markus to lift him up from underneath them just as he had done before.

“I don’t want to go to bed.” Realizing that wasn’t exactly what he meant, Leo reconsidered his thoughts.

“I don’t want to be in that bed.” With a moment of understanding, Markus repeated the actions he’d done when he picked Leo up from the doorway but with more ease as he was already sitting down in the tub, scooping his other arm up underneath the back of his legs to lift and carry him.

“I’ll take you to the guest room, then.”

Leo was asleep in his arms before he reached the door.

[redgillan]

Breaking the Rules - Epilogue

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary:  Modern!AU You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

Word Count:1,468

Warnings: none, but my god this is fluffy

A/N: Okay, it took me a while but here we go. I say this all the time, but my dudes, this is so cheesy... you’ll need wine. ↓ look at this angel *heart eyes* 

Breaking the Rules - Masterpage

7 months later

You and Bucky walked hand-in-hand along the perfectly arranged streets, peering into shop windows adorned with Christmas decorations. You walked aimlessly, not paying attention to where you were going, while you maundered on about a documentary you both watched the night before.

“Fish don’t drink water,” Bucky scoffed.

“Of course they do,” you replied, shaking your head. “What do you think they drink? Milk?”

He let out a surprised laugh, drawing strange looks from passers-by. “That’s not what I meant. They live in water, they don’t need to drink it. They probably just soak it up through their skin or something.”

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

“Why are we even talking about this?” he asked, a crease forming between his brows.

You turned your head to look at him. His thick scarf covered most of his mouth, but you could tell he was smiling by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. He continued to look ahead and squeezed your hand when you took too long to answer.

You cleared your voice. “Because you said you wanted to eat sushi for dinner.”

“I still do.”

“Yeah, but it’s my turn to choose,” you reminded him. “But... if you let me pick the movie, then you can have whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want, uh?” he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You recognized the suggestive tone of his voice, and even though you wanted to roll your eyes, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face. Bucky tugged on your hand to bring you closer. He cupped your face and lowered his mouth to yours, speaking against your lips.

“I want...,” he trailed off, brushing his lips against your own. You closed your eyes, your body humming with excitement. Instead of kissing you, he tugged your beanie down over your eyes and said, “-sushi!”

“Jerk!” you cried. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he laughed, taking your hand. “Come on, we need to find a gift for little Joey.”

Joey was Steve and Peggy’s child. He was born two weeks before Christmas and Bucky couldn’t stop talking about him. You loved the way his eyes lit up every time he received a new picture from Steve.

Of course, Steve had chosen him to be the Godfather. You were really happy for Bucky, you just wished he’d stop quoting the baptism scene from The Godfather.

You passed through the automatic doors of the shopping centre as you removed your hat and gloves and stuffed them into your pockets. Bucky disappeared between two aisles and you decided to browse around a little.

After a moment, you wandered down to the baby department and found Bucky. He ran his hand over the soft material of a pink dress and released a soft sigh.

Seeing Steve so happy with his wife and kid might have triggered his own desire to settle down and start a family. You knew you would have to talk about it soon.

“That dress is a little too small for you, Buck,” you said, startling him.

“Ah-ah!” He rolled his eyes affectionately.

He looked away, a momentary sadness clouding his eyes and face. You ran your fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm his raging thoughts. He gave you a small smile and kissed your cheek.

“You found something for Joey?” he asked, nodding his head toward the tiny pair of denim overalls in your hand.

You perked up instantly and held the hanger higher so he could take a better look. “Yes! Isn’t it the cutest thing in the world?”

Bucky chuckled. “You’re the cutest thing in the world, but this is a close second.”

When the sun started to set, you went to Bucky’s apartment, your arms loaded with gifts and food. His new apartment was small and cosy. He had tried his hand at decorating and while he was clueless about colour-matching, it still looked homey.

After dinner, you cuddled up on the sofa and watched a comedy show on TV. Because you were both busy, you only saw each other on weekends. You liked it that way, it allowed you to keep your independence.

“Bucky?”

“Mmh?”

“Can we talk?”

He sighed. “If this is because of the pink dress, don’t worry about it. I just thought it was cute.”

You moved a little away from him and sat on your haunches. Straightening his posture, he avoided your eyes. He looked so vulnerable, so childlike. You placed your hand on his knee, squeezed lightly, and hoped he'd meet your gaze.

“It’s not the dress, Bucky. It’s what it represents and we should talk about it,” you said. “It’s important.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him. He met your eyes. “You don’t want children.”

“I never said that,” you replied, shaking your head. “I know that seeing Steve with his baby is a little tough for you-”

He gave you a casual shrug, but you could see right through his tough act. You took his hand and ran your thumb over his knuckles.

“It’s always been your dream,” you continued, “to have children, to raise and protect them. You said you were not sure you wanted a family because Dot’s lies hurt you, but your face lit up every time you look at a picture of Joey... You want children.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he conceded.

“See, I knew it,” you said, grinning. “I want kids, too, but there's a million things I want to do first. I’m not ready yet.”

“So,” he said, turning his head to look at you, “you see a future with me?” He had a big grin on his face, like he already knew the answer.

You had always known Bucky wanted a family and it had been one of the things you took into consideration before you admitted your feelings for him seven months ago.

“Yes.”

You squealed when he pounced on you and pinned you down on the sofa. Your legs were bent awkwardly under you, but you giggled when he started ticking you.

After a moment, his hands stayed at your waist and he gave you a long, passionate kiss. Your hand curved around his cheek, the bristles of his beard rubbing against your fingers.

“You’re my family,” he whispered into your ear before he pulled away.

His words rendered you speechless. He smiled warmly as he helped you to your feet and led you to the bedroom.

The cold weather and long walk had exhausted you. You changed into your night clothes while Bucky brushed his teeth. When you joined him in the bathroom, you took the toothbrush he had given you the night before after you realized you had forgotten yours at home.

He finished first and placed a cold kiss on your cheek, making you grumble around a mouthful of toothpaste foam. He snickered as he walked back into the bedroom.

“You know,” you heard him say. “You can leave that toothbrush here. I’d be easier.”

You rinsed your mouth and patted it dry before you replied, “sure. You can leave a toothbrush at my place, too.”

“I’d like that,” he said with a smile.

You left the bathroom and found him sitting on the edge of the bed, looking nervous and excited at the same time. You bit back a grin as you crossed the room and scrabbled around in your overnight bag.

“Maybe you could, uh, keep some clothes here so you wouldn't have to pack a bag every time,” Bucky said. His stammering made you smile to yourself. “I’ll make some space for you in the closet and there’s an empty drawer in my dresser.”

“That’s a good idea,” you told him. “I’ll make room in my wardrobe for your things.”

He let out a small relieved sigh and reached out to take your hand. You straddled his lap and locked your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his forehead on your shoulder.

“So... is this what an adult relationship is like?” you asked, combing your fingers through his hair.

“We’re adulting so hard, I’m proud of us. Are you scared? Is this too much?” he asked, knowing it was still a touchy subject.

Your hands went to the sides of his face, feeling the softness of his beard on your skin, and you made him look at you. “No. I broke my rules for you. All 120 of them.”

He bit his bottom lip, his upper lip quirking into a grin. “Your rules were dumb.”

You gave an exaggerated gasp before he swiftly moved on top of you, the weight of his upper body pinning you to the mattress. It didn’t take long before your laughter turned into quiet moans.

Tags:

[oncegilded-blog]

SHIPPING

SHIPPING INFO // Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog. REPOST. Don’t reblog.

WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE?:  She’s an OC, so I don’t exactly have one- yet. Her OTP used to be with a Vasily Fett, but they are gone now :(  I mean I have ships in mind, but it comes down to chemistry with each character first. Kazu ( @atramentousxedge ) and Tess have been a thing in my friend and I’s minds for years now, but they are just getting some plot progression time as of recently. However I am chomping at the bit for certain other characters she’s interacting with to get closer to her, so we can explore possible ships there---

WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?: Honestly-- anything! I have essentially no triggers, and love to delve into some touchy subjects. Just about every issue Tess has, I have some sort of experience with, and while I do use them as plot devices at times, I don’t just show her problems to add angst. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE angst, but I also want the grittier reality of a life after trauma. I want her to have to work through some shit to have the sweet fluff, and sexy smut that comes later on. The stuff people consider ‘shippy’ is imo the prize for overcoming obstacles. There is no emotional pay off when two people come together too easily.  I need to feel emotionally invested in their outcomes. Feel like they have worked for their happiness. I’m weird, I know.  Especially since I am willing to play some twisted and toxic ships too. Because life isn’t all roses, and sometimes you have to kiss a few frogs to find a prince willing to battle the dragons with you. Yanno?

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?: No one underage. 

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?: With Tessa, yeah a bit. She has to bond with someone before I’m comfortable with writing certain things with others for her. She’s my only muse who is damn near demi-sexual. Sure she crushes on some right away, but it’s more ‘Oh wow- I want them in my life. I want to be affectionate with them. I want to have them close.’ However, it takes awhile before she’s wanting to push them against the wall and have her way with them xD That’s not to say I’m not VERY open to shipping. I am! I’m just selective about how fast they get to the ‘shippy’ parts of a ship. Does that make sense?  Probably makes even less sense when I say that there is a part of her, be it small but still, a part of her that would probably respond in a far more willing fashion than she’d like to admit if a big sexy man shoved her against the wall first >.> I mean, she might not be ready to make a move herself, but I bet she’d still submit pretty quickly. I’m awful, aren’t I? lol

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NS.FW?: I tag even slightly sexual threads nsfw, just to be courteous to others.  I am far more comfortable writing nsfw of all kinds than many people here, so I try to keep that in mind when tagging things.

WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH?:   Shit-- shit shitshittyshit! I hate this. I feel like I shouldn’t name names, because--- I have not spoken to most of the muns about Tess caring for, or possibly crushing on their character, and seeing where it could go. However there are MANY KINDS OF SHIPS. So------with that in mind, I CAN say I ship her with Kazu ( @atramentousxedge ) -A given at this point. Big sexy beast of a man he is!, Riggs ( @anleor ) because omfg he hurts my heart and my muse just wants to hold him- fuck, Wick ( @anleor )- but I’m not even sure on what level. Azuka ( @firesxofxcoclare )- Because they both need friends!!, Chris ( @battedvalkyrie ) and Lori ( @mothergrimes )- Because we have discussed it, and she needs as many badass lady pals in her life as possible! , Eugene ( @alwaysasurvivor )- As a nerdBro-ship!, Paul ( @hilltoprunner )-  Not sure how you’d classify these feelings. He saved her, brought her into a new & better life, and she wants to take care of him/protect him/comfort him. Like a mutual savior sort of ship I guess. Sawyer ( @anarchywithin ) and Major ( @atlasmarked )- Hard to say how either of these threads will pan out, but she’s a bit starry eyed over both of these boys- for different, but similar reasons. The first because he saved her, and is so unexpectedly kind to her. and attractive- *coughs* what?  And the second, because he’s so incredibly selfless and compassionate to others. and adorably handsome sorryNOTsorry. Kindness is VERY attractive quality to Tessa, okay?

 DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?:  I have never had anyone on here outright ask me to ship with Tessa. Other muses of mine though, people had no problem throwing their characters at. Tess might be bit of a hard pill to swallow for some. She’s not canon, not some epic baddass either. She’s not some supermodel, or even all that easy to love because of her issues. Of course there is a lot to love about her, it’s just the work it might take for some is a bit off-putting perhaps.  She’s a ray of sunshine for some, and one wrong move away from a PTSD break down, not worth the trouble, for others.  However, to answer the question, no. No need to ask. I will probably ship my character and yours in some fashion regardless of if you do as well. It’s just how I am. If I’m threading with you long term, it’s because I can see some kind of ship forming, even if it’s a hateship. I’m here for stories- connections- an array or real emotions and relationships.  If you asked me to ship though--- oh boy! That would be refreshing! Think the closest I’ve gotten is @battedvalkyrie jumping in my IMs and discussing how our muses would get along! xD <3

HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?:  I ship all the ships all the time! ALL THE SHIPS! Frenemy-hateful-familial-friend-bromance-romance-unrequited-- all of it! If I’m in a thread with your muse, I ship them-- somehow-- or can see myself shipping them in some manner!

ARE YOU MULTISHIP?: Um yeah- only way to be around here. Learned my lesson hard in the past.

ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?:  Like I said. I have a need to see some kind of ship formed or forming in order to continue on a thread, because there is no emotional pay off for me in writing with someone I can not see my character having strong feelings for or against.  Who wants to take the time and set up a storyline to play out with someone your character doesn’t -and wont ever- give two shits about one way or another? 

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?: In TWD I’d have to say @mothergrimes‘s Lori. She’s my first follow, and Tessa’s first friend here. However I look forward to seeing Tess and @hilltoprunner‘s Paul get closer. I can see a cute/sweet sort of mutually mothering ship forming. And of course I’m excited about @battedvalkyrie‘s starter!! 

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?:  Imply an attraction, or your muse caring about mine in a thread is usually enough to make ME ship it. lol I’m pretty easy. I’m also pretty good at letting folks know Tess is interested via some introspective moments in my replies. Yet I like to leave it up to the other mun on whether or not their muse picks up on the clues. Directness is always easier though- MESSAGE ME!  

tagged by: @battedvalkyrie

tagging: shit idk- Everyone up there I tagged for some reason, I guess. xD And anyone else who sees this and wants to give it a go too. Consider yourself tagged!

[multsicorn]

KENT PARSON

LOLZ it’s like you know me

this is so long it’s under a cut

character: hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS

ship with:  EVERYONE.  literally everyone.  … okay to break this down:

* Jack/Parse is the main thing I write about and think about and have feelings about.  however they are generally pretty sad-trending feelings.  so what does ‘ship’ mean.

* Parse/OC(s) is the thing I actually WANT TO HAPPEN for him, it’s the happy place future I go to when I go that far in my mind; not to get back with Jack, with or without Bitty, but to get the FUCK OVER those wounds, that hook, finally.

* (I have a tendency to go for Parse/Swoops, specifically, cause I’d like the ‘falling for a teammate’ story to work out *well,* and, um, cause there’s a specific set of tags that I started keying that off of that I should go find again - it was on a post about ace Kent Parson, something like #he wants to be someone’s everything #in a very specific way, and.  idk.  it makes a compelling story-seed, for me.)

* Parse/THERAPY is also an extremely necessary thing that I’m not likely to write but I dearly hope happens someday

* PB&J/Pimbits/whatever it’s called is my favorite sort of shippy story, I think; there’s lots of Parse/OC fics that are JUST AS GOOD, but… the overlaying of multiple love triangles, and then synthesizing them into a working system, that happens in the Jack/Bitty/Parse fics that work with the setup there (rather than skipping forwards into ‘when they’re all happy together’)… gets my #feelings well enough that it dragged me into this fandom!….  specifically, I started reading first check, please! fic and then eventually the comic because touchy subject and ain’t licked yet are not only so fucking good but hit my id SO PERFECTLY.  Everyone having feelings about everyone else’s relationships.  Such wonderful emotional ~density!

* Patater is the only popular Parse ship I’m like… why.  (I do buy des-zimbits’ ship manifesto about how they could be good together; but, c’mon, that’s not why, the reason why is cause Tater is the next-most-fleshed-out NHL character who isn’t Jack, and isn’t already fairly strongly paired with someone else, and can therefore be paired with Kent without disrupting any existing popular ships.)  Basically I’ve read some good ones, but most of it seems to be the exact sort of fluff that is why I mostly don’t read Zimbits fic and mostly do read Parse fic!  (And that’s before even getting into #little Russian things that throw me out of the story.)

* But really, just, anyone; I read the Parse character tag on AO3 so I won’t miss the gen fics or the random crack ships, cause sometimes they’re good!  (I think this is what it’s like to be way more OTC than OTP.)

friendship them with:  JACK jack jack jack jack.

Also Bitty that could be so interesting, I want to see them navigating a friendship around their separate feelings/history/etc. wrt Jack, I want to see that #blessyourheart and Parse’s probable answering antagonism (or simply antagonism born out of jealousy) morph slowly into something that’s somehow an actual friendship, that can be really interesting!  And fun!  And I love to see them being petty together, lol; I also love to see them commiserating over why is Jack Zimmermann such a dick, depending on circumstances.  (… I suppose those two can be one at the same.)

So yeah, that’s fun, but Jack and Kent getting back to a place where they can be friends with each other?  Where Jack’s not like ‘um Parson *abort* *ignore ignore*’ and Kent’s not tearing Jack into shreds at being rejected and they can have conversations and maybe some of those mutual apologies alluded to in Shinny and maybe ~closure,~ even?  For the way ‘it just ended’?  The idea of after years of wounds getting to put to rest the bad parts (cause I suspect their relationship was A Mess) and get back the good parts of one of your old best friendships again?  It makes me more #emotional dammit than anything else about this comic.

(the lines I’ve been thinking about here, lately:i said i’d never miss you but i guess you never knowmay the bridges i have burned light my way back homeon the fourth of july~)

there’s something i can’t seem to reduce or explain any further about ‘may the bridges i have burned light my way back home’ that just GETS TO ME.

general opinions: SO MANY.

I love him.  I mean, obviously.  If one takes a look at my blog.

But, interestingly, I’m not quite sure why I don’t read him as abusive.  (If anyone from Glee fandom remembers the way I was about Sebastian…!)  Some of the things he says to Jack in Parse III - ‘you think you’re too fucked up to care about?  That you’re not good enough?  Everyone already knows what you are, but it’s people like me who still care’ - and ‘you’re scared everyone else is going to find out you’re worthless, right?  Oh, don’t worry, just give it a few seasons, Jack, trust me’ - are ABSO-FUCKIN-LUTELY red flags, and I’ll throw down with anyone who says they aren’t.  (I mean.  I hate confrontation, so I probably won’t? but in theory.)  Likewise, coming to Samwell/the Haus in the first place when he seems to know that Jack wouldn’t want to see him if he had a choice about it… is also an awful thing to do, if possibly understandable depending how you write the backstory and decision-making or lack thereof, but also a red flag!!!

I mean, basically, you can read ‘Parse III’ as literally one of the worst nights of his life, and when he’s behaving the worst, as something that’s not much of a pattern and so you shouldn’t judge him on it too harshly; or you can read it as HE IS SOMEONE WHO BEHAVES LIKE THIS, abort abort get away.  I find trying to take what we see and still make someone sympathetic to be a much more interesting story, basically, and the bones of a very compelling one; but in my experience with other characters in other media who have triggered my own pattern matching to be ‘abort abort get away,’ I have utter sympathy and understanding for everyone who has him blacklisted to hell and back, and I’m actually still not sure why I don’t myself!  (of course if I had reacted that way I wouldn’t be in this fandom at all, so I wouldn’t have much need to blacklist him… but ykwim.)

SO OKAY HM WHAT ELSE, cause if I’m listing all of my opinions on Kent Parson I could literally be here all night.

* ‘He never got over it’ may sound cruel but it just so happens to be the truest thing.  Kent’s not really still in love with Jack (though I’m sure he was when they were both 18); he doesn’t really know him, hasn’t really seen or talked to him in seven-ish years, now.  In which they’ve both changed.  But Kent’s in all that time never managed a relationship with anyone else (… probably); never managed to reorient himself sufficiently away from the horrific failure that losing Jack in the particular way he did was.  He never got over it isn’t just your stupid ass, Zimmermann, you’re not that great!, it’s the wound of finding your best friend and lover dying on the bathroom floor (or hearing about it later secondhand, that’s great too), it’s the wound of him not wanting to talk to you or hear what you have to say afterwards.  How the fuck would you get over something like that.

* (so, I mean, that’s why I love Kent.  His STORY is so much more INTERESTING than zimbits’ romcom or the smh team shenanigans; or, well, okay, it’s objectively a different flavor of emotions at least.  And the higher drama and angst quotients there are infinitely more interesting to me.)

* I think he’s a good captain for the Aces, actually.  I think he enjoys parties, getting to interact with lots of people, loves attention and flirting, etc. - and dancing/dance music too! - but I don’t think he’s ~partied~ in a problematic way since maybe his first year on the team.  (Or if he has, it’s in a few isolated incidents.)  He’s generally responsible trying to look out for his rookies and his teammates in trouble.

* AND OF COURSE HIS CAT, who is the love and light of his life, and also more popular on the internet than he is.  There are tons of people who recognize Kit Purrson from her photos but have no idea who Kent is.  He loves it, I’m sure.  =^.^=.

* He is, however, really bad at controlling his own emotions.  (Or should I say, himself.)  It’s fine when this results in impulsive spending, cause he’s a multi-millionaire, it’s fine when this results in being ridiculous or gushing at people, and he IS actually able to keep secrets, though this would probably surprise most of the people who know him but not that well.  (he’s not out yet, so.)  But he says REALLY MEAN AND UNFAIR things to people he cares about when he feels rejected/abandoned (… I’m sure that time in Parse III is not the only time), so, that’s a problem, he knows it gets him into trouble, and I don’t think he’ll learn how to not until, um, THERAPY ~*~.

* HE IS SUCH AN ATTENTION WHORE THO.  Also great at being ~charming.  (see, e.g., the accountant sketch, as well as the epikegster) - and pretty genuine with it!  He LIKES people!

* He is also a FUCKING MESS - possibly not in the #adulting sense, maybe he can feed himself, who knows, but, emotionally - I think he both longs for connection with people, and fears it going south, cause, well.  The last guy he was in love with almost died (almost killed himself? I bet you couldn’t tell from the outside!) and then stopped talking to him.  And very possibly also for reasons predating that incident, too.  Cause if Kent had the sort of relationships he wants to have with people IN LAS VEGAS, then he wouldn’t have crashed the epikegster in the first place.  So: lonely, and dealing with it poorly, no matter how well he’s doing otherwise.  But not sad all the time.  I think that’s all of the important things?

* (I’m not sure where the line between ‘opinions’ and ‘headcanons’ lies, so, yeah, I’m gonna cut myself off here.  Maybe I’ll write ‘my list of random Parse headcanons’ next!  Or maybe not, who knows.  But I would LIKE to.  Everyone wants to know how I imagine his sexuality, his family, etc., I’m sure; well okay, I want to write about it, anyway!  Not only waiting till the times I’ve finished a fic!)