#i genuinely cannot stand this man but he wins a few points for that

[goldensunset]

today my professor was talking about gender and the way kids are raised in society and he brought up kingdom hearts as an example of an unusual piece of media for its time that was seemingly meant to be appealing to both boys & girls and to both adults & kids (presumably cuz like it’s got the anime stuff and the disney stuff and you go through all sorts of different genres and it’s both whimsical and serious) i was like totally zoning out but i snapped awake when he mentioned that lol

[buckybarnesss]

Bro, the noise I just made. I literally cannot stand the fanon for Stiles or Derek. It is so so soooo bad, I think these people literally have only seen the 2 hour sterek compilation. Every day I am like "who fucking told you people that Derek never smiles and has no sense of humor?"

Stiles gets turned into this big eyed, kitten twink who wouldn't dare to misbehave because he's the sheriff's son (the kid who gets drunk in the WOODS, and gets his dad drunk so he can steal casefiles!!)

Derek like... He is either completely useless and cannot dress himself for a date without fanon!Laura (do not get me started) telling him what to do, or he is so emotionally repressed and damage that he can barely handle someone kissing him without him falling to pieces.

LIKE. Derek smiles. Derek makes jokes!! Derek laughed at Stiles right before the pool scene. Derek knows how to use a cellphone and a laptop. Derek is a goddamn millenial, he knows what grumpy cat is. He knows he's hot, he has a mirror!!

Also... the man lived in New York fucking City. He's not afraid of crowds or talking to people or making out, he uses sex to get his way (Erica and the deputy at the front desk!!)

i know.

like, there's a period of fics that are usually from the s1-2 period that lean pretty hard on derek's dark, brooding and grumpiness from season 1 but of course he was like that. he was going through The Horrors during season 1. he was grieving laura, he was being retraumatized by kate and dealing with scott, stiles and fucking jackson.

he wasn't one dimensional though. his anger was a mask for all the fear, confusion and trying to be in control.

do you know how many fics i've read where people have stiles think about all the apparent physical violence derek has done to stiles as if he's always slamming him into surfaces? way too many to count and it's incorrect. off the top of my head i can count 3 times derek did something like that to stiles. the shove into the wall and slam into the steering wheel in wolf's bane both of which had a point to them. whether or not it was a good emotional response doesn't matter. what matters is that they were not random or part of derek's personality. he didn't just shove stiles into things every time he saw him. the wall shove in s4 with de-aged derek was a deliberate call back to that very instance in wolf's bane. it was literally coupled with the whole cousin miguel bit.

fandom doesn't like to acknowledge that derek hale isn't particularly violent over the course of the show. he hardly even wins the fights he engages in and he is often forced into fights knowing he cannot win.

our boy mostly ends up on the fucking floor.

derek also does make jokes. dry ones usually he thinks they are hilarious too. he thinks he's a funny guy. his dad joke game must've been off the charts, sorry eli.

he and stiles trade barbs a lot and he thinks stiles is funny. stiles amuses him and he indulges it a few times. he shows off to stiles too like a loser.

he likes to fuck with scott and stiles and enjoys taking the piss out of peter. he genuinely enjoyed fucking with liam in s4.

he's not a luddite either. he has a cellphone and we see him use it. i bet he plays games on it. i bet he plays candy crush and words with friends.

and fanon evolved to strip away that stiles is an asshole. he a violent little freak. he threatens people, he expresses regularly his desire to kill people or have them die, he cares about a very small selection of people in his life and if you're not in that circle than god be with your ass because stiles most definitely won't.

he loves and respects his father but this doesn't mean stiles respects the law which is why i don't know why the law enforcement route was chosen for him. stiles hates rules and boundaries. he chafes at them.

stiles casually helps kira and scott break into evidence to get her cell phone. he tells scott's fbi agent father to fuck himself. he got his dad drunk to get access to case files. he copies people's keys. he's a nosy shit.

the whole show started because stiles was a nosy punk kid who wanted to see a dead body.

but i digress.

fanon stiles had a lot of scott's characteristics projected onto him so they could bash scott. i know there's a lot of people who don't like scott which is fine or whatever but there are so many that do it so they can make a pinata out of a character they've extracted all the good points from and give to their favorite little white boy fav.

stiles "i will beat you with a bat" stilinski is a freaky little shit who will bite you.

do you know how hard i laughed when in s3 stiles and isaac genuinely just like could not stand each other? they couldn't be in the same room with out insulting one another and it was the complete opposite of stiles being oh so sensitive to isaac's past and history than straight up in 3b stiles the epitome of insensitive says to isaac something about still milking it (his abuse). stiles is a dick.

i also genuinely have umbrage with the pack mom trope that stiles gets saddled with. the way fandom has oft feminized stiles leaves a bad taste in my mouth too.

derek and stiles are both assholes and i love them very much.

[sco07ut]

what just happened!!!!!!!! s19 rambles (negative) ↓

going to be messy cos im just planning on writing whatever outrageous moments stand out as i go along

first of all????? DOC FUCKING DIED?????????? i literally had to rewatch a few times to realise that’s what they were saying 😟 when the fuck did he die bc doc eas Inside the staff of charon and wash was fuckijg idk?? on the surface of chorus right?? how did doc die saving him what (genuinely someone smarter than me if you’ve figured it out please tell me) bc like the point of the charon fight is that they were stuck in the mementos room right? idk

anyway he was done so dirty i literally do not think there was a reason to reveal doc was dead in the last five minutes

on that note, where was donut?? did he die too ? how long after chorus is s19 set like was that undisclosed location iris or what. did he do his whole ‘tour of the universe’ thing early? like i would’ve been fine with even just a passing comment but they were so vague with it

WHY DID SARGE DIE AND THEN PROMPTLY BECOME IRRELEVANT????? aside from simmons grif & caboose not a Soul mentioned the fact that a whole man was dead. i was so convinced that there would be some big funeral with everyone attending at the end

i did sort of like the plot though, simmons getting a leadership role was kinda fun

tbh i did like simmons this season it was so great seeing him finally get recognition but good grief i cannot talk about simmons without bringing up the ending/lack of grimmons

it makes sense that they wouldn’t get together if grif went home and simmons stayed in the army BUT WHY DID SIMMONS STAY IN THE ARMY?? RICHARD YOU DO NOT HAVE A FUCKING TEAM ANYMORE (on that note. where did lopez go. i’m only just realising that he literally vanished) i’m so insane why did they do that. they could’ve gone home together. and kissed about it idk

i mean i didn’t actually expect grimmons to happen but i thought they’d stay together?? it’s always been them. like that’s the whole point of their characters. every other person who’s been on their team before has died and left them (grif sleeping through being glassed, hammer dying during basic, the red team at rat’s nest and now sarge and donut i guess?????) why did they not stay together

also on the grif family note, the kai cameo was nice (though i will say i do Not understand the point of the whole retro con thing, i feel like it went on for ages, did nothing to set up the plot. the meta could’ve been introduced some other way surely)

also while i’m thinking about it, why did it take tucker/the meta months to get from chorus to a point where he was actively searching for epsilon ?

anyway sorry kai cameo fun but she should’ve had a bigger role idc

it kind of feels like they suddenly realised almost all their female characters were overlooked and they tried to shove them in to be like ‘ohhh look we care about our female characters’ and then screwed them over by making them either insignificant or nothing more than a cameo

with the exception of tex maybe. i fully did not expect her to come back prior to watching but when caboose was like oh help me remember i started to get a feeling it wouldn’t be church. i’m also so glad they addressed the whole ‘created from failure/destined to fail’ thing, tex fuckijg deserved that win. sad that she died though (i wasn’t expecting that either and was like fully geared up to start making post restoration fanart of carolina and tex hanging out and learning how to be friends/family again)

idk i just feel like we missed out on so much stuff due to time constraints, there were so many scenes that should’ve been put in imo like carolina and tex having some sort of moment together, grif and kai having a moment, carolina & wash seeing 479er again

ok wait different chain of thought. everyone was like really eager to kill tucker. there was no moral dilemma of everyone being like ohh beneath the meta hes our friend we can’t hurt him but we still need to take him down what’re we gonna doo. although on second thought it was red team so . yeah the mindless attacking does make sense a bit

new thought again overall it just felt weird like everyone had their assigned pairings and couldn’t acknowledge anyone outside of them?? like during the fights there wasn’t much of a reunion when tex/carolina joined and then wash (and apparently not fucking doc) like idk. i was under the assumption thatvthere would be a sweet little scene where they got the gang back together

whatever man that’s everything off the top of my head. i had no expectations going in and still somehow left disappointed. i Will be making an au version that fits all the things i wanted to see

[ae-neon]

What I can't stand about Reese’s-Cup-Sand is that there is never a moment where he has genuine regret, or questions his actions, or shows sorrow, or his humbled in some way, shape, or form. He died twice, and yet he's still the same he was at the same of the series as where he is now. Stans bring up “Chapter 54” but all of that is an excuse to win Feyra’s (rather easily convincible) heart. He never makes generations to any of the Seasonal courts for his own actions or the “things he had to do under Amarantha”. Murdered an innocent girl and her whole family for no reason. Sexually assaulted, drugged and physically tortured his lover “because he had to” (and piss Tamlin off). Kidnapped and conspired with his new pet (that seems fair for Fey) to commit a genocide in Spring. And this is just the first fourth of this iceberg.

Meanwhile, Tamlin has actually paid for his actions. He realized that he fucked up majorly and, in his mind, is being punished for it.

Yes, exactly

Both Tamlin and Rhys do bad things and apologize and takes steps to redeem* themselves

(*redemption being favourable actions towards Feyre, not actually atoning for their behaviour to anyone else because sjm's and the readers self centred points of view are all that matters in these books)

But here's the thing. Tamlin faces the consequences, especially outside of the context of Feyre. He sits in the aftermath long after we turn the page.

He hurts Feyre, goes on a power trip and works with Hybern -> his Court has been in ruin for 3 books now. He is mentally and physically suffering. He's lost himself and those closest to him.

But Rhysand?

Other courts don't trust him - then he "steals" Feyre from Spring and steals the Book from Summer as his first diplomatic moves as a free man the fucking buffoon - but outside of a few looks and words, him literally working with Amarantha never causes long term harm to the NC?? Hell sjm even handwaves away the murder of children for Rhys.

We are told he was SA'd for 50 years UtM as a psuedo-excuse for him assaulting Feyre but besides having a few nightmares just when he needed to earn Feyre and the reader's sympathy, he suffers no mental or physical consequences? No in fact he cannot wait to have sex with Feyre any and everywhere

Rhysand can lie to Feyre, get caught, get scolded and in 2 pages Feyre will be monologuing about how cruel she was for acting that way towards him. Then he will do it again. And again. And again. There are no consequences to any of his actions.

He fails to protect Nesta and Elain but even their suffering doesn't fall on him. In fact, sjm and the reader will spin it into necessary at worst and actually great at best. Now they're Fae and have mates and live in Velaris, their depression and PTSD is a them problem not a him problem. He's so nice he'll even let Feyre see them before he fucks her when she returns from Spring.

Rhysand is acquitted on admission. All he needs to do is say 'yea, I did that' and we're supposed to go 'wow, he's so real and humble and obviously reformed so he doesn't need to be punished'

Anyways, I could ramble on and on. SJM is a manipulative writer and most of her fans are victims of her tactics.

[coffeewithcutcaffeine]

Much has been said and shown about Moldova over the past few weeks, mainly due to the referendum and presidential elections. Nonetheless, very few of us (including myself) have really sat down and tried to immerse ourselves (or at least understand) into the issues ordinary Moldovans have to face on a daily basis. Moldova is always looked upon as Romania's poorer little sister or a heavily Russified region, but to help them integrate themselves, push through the difficulties, and reach a particular goal, we must pay attention and try to hear them first.

The Slovak newspaper Denník N (in cooperation with its Czech counterpart, Deník N) published a wonderful article written by the Czech journalist Petra Procházková that delves deeper into the ordinary Moldovan soul and is a true eye-opener. You may not be able to relate to every opinion shared in the article (God is my witness that I didn't, either), but it might help you understand where it all comes from. It shows why it is important not to remain in our comfortable bubbles but speak out, explain, support our points of view with solid arguments. It also proves that the world sees Eastern Europe as a region not worthy of attention, which is something that must change in the following years.

Here is a link for those who can (and want to) read in Slovak:

For those who cannot but are interested in the topic, I am putting my own translation of the article below (warning, Russophilia mentioned; despite that, I encourage you to read it as someone who genuinely, from the bottom of her heart, cannot stand Russia and what it represents):

I shed all my tears there. How Lora from Moldova uprooted her cherry orchard and why the EU is to blame

(by Petra Procházková, Deník N)

The second round of Moldova’s presidential election on Sunday (November 3) will determine the country’s future. The candidates are the incumbent head of state, Maia Sandu, and the former prosecutor general, Alexandr Stoianoglo. The former represents the pro-Western direction of the country; the latter promises to mend broken relations with Russia, as well as maintain a certain type of neutrality until it becomes clear who will actually win in the region.

A young man in a sweatshirt stands by the stalls at the local market, passing the time. He has just arrived from Italy. Here in the westernmost tip of Moldova, in an area with fertile soil that is hard to find elsewhere in Europe, and people who know how to make the most of it, you cannot find work at all.

‘I’ve been travelling there for three years!’ Nikita says, pulling out his phone to show us some photos. ‘Here we pick watermelons, here pumpkins. They’ve got it nicely organised. They give us free accommodation, they feed us, though they charge a little for food. But not much. I get 7 euros for an hour of hard work. People here wouldn’t even dream of that. But now I have to go home for the winter.’

Around Nikita’s birthplace of Lipcani in Moldova, the soil is as fertile as in Italy. After all, 77 per cent of Moldova is farmland. Everything imaginable is grown here in the north-west. But Nikita is only one person out of a third of the working-age population who pick Italian or Spanish apples instead of Moldovan ones, or who look after feeble German pensioners. They even work as receptionists in Moscow or history teachers in Omsk. The dispersion, both geographical and professional, is enormous.

For there is no one left in Moldova who does not have to stay there.

‘It’d be enough for me to earn 10,000 lei (a little over 500 euros - ed.) at home. And I’d never go anywhere. It’s so beautiful here!’ Nikita says and goes off to kill time.

Cabbage and chrysanthemums

A woman in a warm waistcoat offers cabbage for 7 lei a kilo (about 0.35 euros - ed.). That is a good price. A few kilometres down the road, some men sell it for 10 lei. Ruslana, however, has lowered the price because the customers are few and ‘I’m not going to throw it away’.

‘We own a decent piece of land, but we can’t sell much of the produce. How much do we need per month to be able to live a normal life? About 10,000 lei. And I can’t earn that much from flowers and cabbages. But there is no other work here,’ she says.

Ruslana comes from the village of Trestieni. At home, she has children, a husband, grandparents, a pig, chickens, and several dogs. ‘We bottle and preserve everything we grow, we buy milk from our neighbour or exchange it for what we have in turn. We survive.’

Ruslana will not vote on Sunday. Whether it is one or the other who wins, she says, it will not make any difference to her family.

Even cheaper than Ruslana’s are the cabbage heads of Timur who lives in the neighbouring village of Satul - a kilo for 6 lei (about 0.30 euros - ed.). Neither he nor the other inhabitants of this remote region know that the World Bank has invested millions of euros in various agricultural projects in Moldova - for example, to boost the country’s competitiveness. Timur has heard something about this, but where is the money? He has no idea. Probably in other parts of Moldova. It certainly has not come here.

Nor has he heard that in 2022, the EU has temporarily liberalised trade in seven Moldovan agricultural products: tomatoes, garlic, grapes, apples, cherries, plums, and grape juice. These products were allowed to enter the EU market in larger quantities and with no customs duties. There are dozens of other EU projects and NGOs supporting Moldovan civil society and agriculture, but their echoes do not reach very far here, in the region between Ukraine and Romania.

Sugar and men’s suits at half-price

Timur will vote, but refuses to say who. Besides cabbage, he sells apples, a kilo for 0.50 euros. When he finds out that we are a Czechoslovak team, we get three apples for free. He served in our country in the 1980s, he announces with a smile. He spent two years in the 152nd Engineer Battalion in Zdechovice. He says he liked it there.

‘They say Stoianoglo wants us to be with Russia. But I’m not really sure about that. I have to ask you this. You know what? I’m going to vote, but no matter what the result is, I’m still going to stand here and sell. Sandu is supposed to lead us towards the EU. Stoianoglo towards Russia. You don’t want us in Europe, but Russia would accept us. I don’t think anything will change in my lifetime. For the worse, maybe.’

At home, Timur speaks Romanian, but his Russian is perfectly clear, without any traces of an accent. ‘I switch between languages as I please,’ he says.

The enterprising farmer manages to make a living not only as a ploughman and market seller. Every week he travels to the neighbouring country, Ukraine, to the city of Chernivtsi, for a big shopping trip. ‘It definitely pays off. Because a kilo of apples costs 10 hryvnia there, 10 lei here. But if you buy euros here and then exchange them for hryvnias there, it’s half as cheap as in Moldova,’ he says.

‘In Moldova, you buy a kilo of sugar for 20 lei; in Ukraine, when you re-count the money, convert it and exchange it, it’s 10. I buy what I need, bring what the customs allow me to bring, and sell it cheaply at home. And I can even dress myself well there. A suit here costs half as much as it does in Ukraine. And don’t even get me started on gas! Compared to us, the Ukrainians pay kopeks. But you can’t take gas with you. But these are all small things. What matters is that there is no war.’

The money for a funeral is saved for decades

Timur is one of the few who does not complain significantly or live from hand to mouth.

Vladimir died at the blessed age of 80. That’s quite an achievement by local standards. He had been on sick leave for the last three years, so more money was put aside for the funeral. His wife has survived a stroke and for the past twenty years, she has been thinking about how they will both say their final goodbyes to their fellow villagers. She has been saving money and now, her efforts have finally resulted in a nice, not too flashy, but not too modest funeral.

We are in the westernmost Moldovan village of Criva. It lies in the valley of the Prut River and is one of those villages where the old and the young live in a forced symbiosis. Productive adults have gone abroad to work, both to the West and to the East, to Europe or to Russia. Ideology played very little part in their decision-making. What mattered the most was who knew whom, who they bumped into, who helped them find a job.

‘My friend went there, so I went there as well,’ is the most common answer from Moldovans at the tip of the region gripped from above by Ukraine and from below by Romania.

The late Yuri’s daughter lives in Canada. This time, she sent more money than usual to help give her father a decent funeral feast. He deserved it. He drove a tractor in an agricultural county where the soil is the right colour and consistency. He supposedly did his job better than anyone else. He lived to see the collapse of collective farms and the decline of one of the most fertile parts of Europe, according to his relatives who also worked in agriculture. But the collectives collapsed with the fall of the Soviet Union, the borders with Russia remain closed, and nobody wants their apples, cabbages, nuts, potatoes, garlic, onions, or watermelons anymore.

A funeral is the worst kind of nightmare for Moldovans, and not only because it is a sad event associated with the death of a loved one. It also eats up a large part of the family’s savings. The final farewell here has its iron rules: the deceased’s shoes must be put on, and they must be dressed in new clothes, including underwear. This costs 3,000 lei. A car to take the open coffin with the body to the cemetery costs 2,000 lei. This, of course, is in addition to the payment for the priest’s services. If the body has been previously deposited in a morgue, one has to pay another 2,800 lei.

A new gravestone and the work involved in digging the grave and placing the coffin in it cost another few thousand lei. The most modest table in a restaurant costs around 6,000 lei. This is another trauma for the family, if we stop thinking for a moment about the death of a loved one - such a modest feast is considered a disgrace. In short, for less than 20,000 lei, you cannot secure a ‘decent’ funeral.

And a wedding? Unless you invite at least a hundred people, it is not a Moldovan wedding. In that case, you need to prepare at least 80,000 lei.

Victoria is saving money for a dance with her great-grandson

Campaigning for the election is not exactly a big affair here. There are only a few posters of Alexandr Stoianoglo, the challenger to the current Moldovan president Maia Sandu, in Lipcani and the surrounding villages. Lipcani is, for a change, the northernmost town in Moldova. From here, it is close to Ukraine as well as to Romania.

Alongside the posters, we finally come across a live campaign in the form of a woman in a stall holding a newspaper with Stoianoglo’s picture on the front cover. The volunteer’s name is Victoria. She has two grown-up children: a son who works in Russia, and a seriously ill daughter whom she looks after. Her daughter, Victoria’s granddaughter, also lives in Russia. Victoria worked all her productive life in the food distribution department of the local agricultural trade union. When the Soviet Union collapsed, so did the union.

‘How can you abolish agriculture in an agricultural country?’ she asks angrily, hoping that Mr Stoianoglo will steer the country in the right direction. ‘This president [Sandu] is leading us to ruin,’ she warns the few people who pass her by. The town, like all the surrounding villages, does not give a lively impression. The most active part of the population is somewhere in Europe or Russia.

Victoria has her reasons to complain. She has to work very hard to get something to eat. Not only does she hand out newspapers with Stoianoglo’s face on them, but she is also rewarded in kind. She refuses to reveal with what or how much.

‘I worked for thirty-eight years. In one place! And now, my pension is 2,770 lei (142 euros - ed.). My granddaughter used to help us from Russia, but then they closed the banks! We haven’t been able to receive anything from her in months! Tell me, is it my fault what is happening, and that because of this, the Russian banks are closed and I will starve to death here?’

Victoria lives in an old house that has never had gas. That seems to be an advantage now that prices have risen sharply again in the last year. Russian gas prices have been perfectly mirroring the deteriorating relations between Russia and Moldova over the last few years. As a result, raw materials are becoming more expensive. After Chișinău joined the anti-Russian coalition condemning Russia’s aggression against Ukraine, Moldova had to give up cheap Russian raw materials for good. Many Moldovans take this personally, blaming both President Sandu and the EU.

‘We use wood for heating. Imagine, a cubic metre of wood cost 700 lei a few years ago. Now I had to buy a cubic metre for 1,400 lei. But if I wanted to heat my house, I wouldn’t have enough money to pay for electricity. I also have to pay for the internet. How else can I keep in touch with my granddaughter?’

A disability pension for her daughter could not be arranged. She is not the first person to tell us that it ‘does not work so easily here’. Mostly, she complains, it costs money. ‘To get the pension, you have to pay the official. And I don’t have the money for that right now.’

The granddaughter - now a geography and maths teacher with Russian citizenship living in distant Omsk - found herself literally on the other side of the front line as a result of Russia’s aggression against Ukraine. Without her financial help, both Victoria’s and her daughter’s situation has worsened dramatically. Victoria is genuinely upset about the sanctions; she says the war in Ukraine, literally just a few kilometres away, is none of her business. And the European Union? It has caused all of this.

‘I am going to vote because if Stoianoglo wins, maybe he will help me hug my great-grandson one day,’ explains Victoria.

Daniel is in sixth grade. ‘They send us pictures of themselves in the park, at the cinema, playing sports. They live like royalty! And how he does ballroom dances, in a tuxedo and with a little girl, they both look like something out of a fairy tale. When I manage to save a few kopeks here and there, I send it to him so he can buy something for himself. You know why? To remind him of his grandmother and great-grandmother. So he knows he has us still.’

Victoria has seen Daniel twice - as a baby and when he was four years old. That was when her granddaughter could still come to visit her family in Moldova. But then came the COVID and the war.

‘Why, I am not afraid that the Russians will attack us. They’re like that, you know, if you leave them alone and don’t provoke them, they’ll leave you alone as well. We have to get along with them somehow,’ Victoria declares, adding: ‘I was born in the USSR, I went to school and worked all my life in the USSR. I learned everything in the USSR. I had everything I needed then. And now I live like a pauper. But I still want to do one thing - dance at Daniel’s wedding.’

Why should an Italian baker be any better?

Sitting by a half-empty box of tiny garlic heads, she is annoyed. Her name is Lelia. She worked as a saleswoman all her productive life and even managed to work her way up to a restaurant manager. ‘One euro buys two loaves of bread. That’s what we ended up with,’ she laughs bitterly.

Lelia celebrated her 83rd birthday on October 4. In 1996, she decided that her life was not over yet and went to Italy to look after a feeble Italian man with a pension of over 2,000 euros. ‘His family paid me 1,200 euros a month. The grandpa was ninety, he was good to me. He worked all his life as a baker, and look at what a nice pension he had.’

With this statement, any praise for Europe ends. ‘And I brought up six children, worked for thirty-eight years, and got what? A pension of 1,800 lei. 93 euros! What makes that baker better than me? Did he have eleven grandchildren and eleven great-grandchildren like me? Go to hell with your EU!’ she shouts at us, as though we were to blame for her misery and need.

‘Russia is rich. You have nothing. No real natural resources. So no need to quarrel with the Russians,’ she concludes. ‘And yet you and Sandu want to drag us into a war.’

Her daughter, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren live in Russia. She will never have that kind of money. One of her younger grandchildren, however, works in France. ‘He graduated from two universities and got a job here in Moldova for a stupid 300 euros. How can you start a family on that? So he went to Paris to work as a taxi driver. With a degree in economics. If you believe in God, may He protect you,’ she ends the conversation with us because she says it leads nowhere. She is probably right.

It is all the fault of ‘those at the top’

The lady at the next stall has a pension of 1,900 lei (98 euros - ed.). Lora can count very well, she is an engineer. ‘Last year we uprooted twelve hectares of cherries. Oh, no! No disease! We grew them with love, but the real drudgery was picking them, and then we had to throw it all away three years in a row! Throw it away, you understand? We tried to sell a kilo of cherries here for 10 lei (0.50 euros - ed.), but nobody wanted to buy them. People are more likely to buy sugar or bread, but cherries? So we uprooted them. These twelve hectares are now a salt pan because I shed all the tears I had left there.’

Nothing grows on the land where the cherries, once a luxury item on Moscow’s markets, once grew on their trees. Thistles and weeds have taken over. Lora has kept two cows and is trying to sell her own cheese. Not a single person has come to her stall in the hour we have been talking to her.

‘We used to export everything to Russia before, but now? Not even a potato. Not even a litre of wine. Everything is closed, blocked, you can’t transfer any money, and you can’t get the goods across the border. So we sit here in the square with our goods like fools, waiting to see how the elections turn out. And what will they change? Nothing. And you in Europe are going to let us in with our apples? You have yours,’ Lora concludes.

When Lora’s Soviet collective farm disappeared, she fell from the pedestal of a chief economist to a job as a cleaner at a petrol station. But even that recently closed. She is left with two cows, which she says eat more than they earn.

Even Lora, the spokeswoman for the highly educated market workers, does not know what needs to change to make life better for Moldovans. She says the elections are useless. After a long silence, she shrugs her shoulders and finally reveals the secret of Moldova’s crisis: ‘What to do? You have to ask those at the top.’

[to-the-stars8]

Affairs and Letters

Jason Todd x Female!Reader Regency AU! AO3 Chapters A/N; totally not gonna lie but I did not read over this so I am sorry for any mistakes lol

Part VI

You had been in a battle with yourself since your last meeting with Mr. Todd. There was scarce a night where you did not berate yourself for thinking of him in such tempting ways; like the way his eyes sparkled when they looked at you, or when his lips curled into that disgustingly beautiful smirk. A man so uniquely squared into mystery and aloof nature, you believed, was hardly a person to be thought of in such a way. There was still the fact that he seemed genuinely interested in you, even going as far as to promise all truth in his words—To which you believed was not totally true in itself. Still, something compelled you to believe it. Something like his handsomeness. 

Perhaps, if he was not so handsome it all would be considerably less difficult to not think of him. 

When you relayed your answer of refusal to attend the party to Lady Kent she was especially cross. She reprimanded you for a good few hours on the responsibilities of guests before you finally buckled under her pressure. It seemed the end of the battle had been decided for you, though you could hardly think it a win. 

Luckily, you found some solace finally when you heard from Barbara that Mr. Todd was not to be in attendance at the party as he was going away on business for his father. She said this with great disappointment, too as it meant Mr. Grayson would be gone as well. 

“Do not worry, Barbara,” You said. “I cannot believe Mr. Grayson would stay away from you very long.”

“I do hope it is true,” said she. “But what if he is to be gone the rest of the season? My chances for his affections would considerably decrease.”

“Is it his affections you are after, or his money?” You asked, giggling. 

“Do not say such things,” She chided. 

You only pointed out that that was her concern not some few weeks ago, and she only rebuffed your remark with a repetition of her previous words. That was when you decided to say no more on the matter. 

When the day of the party came the usual wet autumn weather had returned greeted than it had before, and even Sir Kent was on the verge of canceling the trip. Unfortunately for both you and him, Lady Kent was adamant she would go even if hell froze over, and therefore the journey would be continued. 

Jon and Connor were more cheerful on the way to Wayne Manor, both looking forward to seeing their friends, and even more so to finally see the place. You had heard of it, meaning Wayne Manor, before. Barbara told you it was absolutely lovely. She said there wasn’t a room more immaculately set or clean. Not only that, but it was only due to the smaller size of the place (in this sense she had added that by small it was one of the largest houses in the county) could it not be declared a palace. You had some hopes of seeing the library when she exposed the declaration of greatness to you. 

“The library,” Barbara had said. “Was amazingly huge, dear friend! Wall-to-wall shelves, with two stories worth of books. I could scarcely imagine it, much less believe it when I saw it with my own eyes!”

And, upon seeing Wayne Manor, large and looming, with your own eyes, you were amazed. It was not some ten miles from the Kent House and you had never seen it before in your life. You were sure it had to be because of the tree lining surrounding the house, for you had walked everywhere in town and had nearly seen everything. 

Lady Kent seemed just as impressed with it as well, bolstering about the greatness of the acquaintance, especially when Mr. Wayne could be seen standing outside in the wet weather to greet you. Despite the damp disposition, the master of the household seemed in just as cheery of a mood as he had the day he met you. 

The inside of Wayne Manor was elegant, decored with red and gold, and staffed with plenty of servants. No doubt there for the numerous children he had scampering about with smiles. Before Sir Kent had even dismissed him, Jon went off with the other children, Connor in tow. You had started to set off with them, but Mr. Wayne stopped you. 

“I will not have a guest work in my home,” He declared. “Come, dear, join us in the parlor. I will take all the guests that I have, for many have canceled on me in this rain.”

“If you wish, sir,” You said, and obediently followed. 

“I do, I do,” He said, leading the rest of you away. 

Mr. Wayne was right, as it seemed that only the Kents had appeared at the party but that did not seem to sway any excitement or cause embarrassment for either group. For most of the evening, the four of you talked almost as equals on all matters. You found it odd that you managed to speak with such easy freeness as Mr. Wayne often acquired for your unfiltered opinion—An opportunity not often given to you. You tried to remember your place, so most of the opinions you shared were not entirely your own, but rather your master’s. 

What you enjoyed most about the conversation were the stories he and Sir Kent shared as both men had been to many places and experienced many things. As much as you loved reading, you enjoyed hearing stories just as much. Especially from the two most interesting characters, you had the privilege of knowing. Eventually, you found yourself thankful for Lady Kent’s reprimands as it was all turning out lovely. You could enjoy the Wayne family much more without the distraction of one of the sons.  

And would have been an absolutely fantastic visit if, by the time it had gotten dark with heavy rain, a soaking-wet Mr. Grayson and Mr. Todd burst in. Upon seeing them everyone stood up shocked then rushed to get them warm. 

“Come over here by the fire,” Mr. Wayne said. “What were you thinking going out in this weather? The two of you will catch a cold!”

Mr. Grayson only laughed and told his father he worried far too much for his benefit. Fetching a blanket, you draped it over the shoulders of both young men, so attuned with your duties to Jon that it seemed a little different in this situation. 

“Miss,” Mr. Todd mumbled. “How are you enjoying the party?”

“It is very well,” You said. “Thank you.”

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Grayson said cheerfully. “I am glad to see you Sir Kent, Lady Kent. I hope this weather has not been too harsh on you as it has been on us?”

It was amazing to see a man have such easiness with people when his opposite was so plainly close. In his brother’s light, Mr. Todd seemed to shrink, and you could see why Barbara had such a tender spot for him. You knew she would be upset with herself and her father when you informed her of Mr. Grayson’s return to the party. 

It was not long after the young men’s return did the six of you split away from one another. Mr. Wayne was adamant about getting his sons to a warm place, and the Kents would not stand in his way to do so. 

“This weather,” Mr. Wayne said before he ushered his sons off. “I will not allow your family to go out into it, Clark. You must stay the night. I insist.” Sir Kent agreed. “Very good. I will have Alfred here show you to your rooms and send a man for your clothes the moment the rain allows.”

You hardly spared the circumstance of staying somewhere foreign another thought as it had happened before with the Kents, but with less distraction. After Mr. Pennyworth had shown you your room, you quickly returned to Jon’s side, acquainting yourself with the rest of the Wayne children before they were all eventually shuffled off to bed. It was then you found yourself alone in a very large house. Quietly, you took a candle and went searching for the legendary library. 

Most of the corridors were dark and every door looked similar, so you were careful to listen as well as observe. You found yourself, after some time, starting to believe that the place was truly a myth when every door turned up an empty, dark room or belonged to someone. Until you came upon two red-wood doors standing proud at the end of one of the main halls. 

After you had approached it, you pressed your ear to the wood to listen for any voices or footsteps. When there was none, you quietly slid in.

Barbara was right, the room was amazing. Every wall, where there was no door, fireplace, or window, was a top-to-bottom bookshelf, and the ones closest to the ceiling had balconies to reach. Golden accents and Wayne crests were carved into the wood railings of the spiral staircases leading up.

“Miss,” A voice said, making you jump. 

You turned to see Mr. Todd sitting by the fire, a blanket still on his shoulders with a letter in his lap. “Mr. Todd.” You gasped. “Forgive me, I hadn’t—I mean—”

“Do not worry,” He said, standing. “I am not one usually for formalities.”

“Yes, ah,” You tried to think of what to say. “Please, excuse me.”

“Wait,” He said. You did as he commanded. “Take this.”

You looked down at the letter in your hand, your name written beautifully on the front of it. “Mr. Todd—”

“You may call me Jason,” Mr. Todd said with nervous hesitation. “As I said…I am not one usually for formalities.”

“If you wish, sir,” You said. 

“Only if you wish, dear,” said he. “Read my letter, if you wish, too. You need not reply.”

You looked up to meet his eyes, and suddenly it was a summer day once again. “Of course, Jason.” With a shy smile, Mr. Todd stepped away, pleased. 

You hurried back to your room, only having a little difficulty finding it before throwing yourself onto the bed. You berated yourself once again, feeling like such a little fool.  After some time, you sighed, resigning a bit more to the idea of him. 

Looking at the letter in your hand, you finally gathered enough reason to open it. By the end of his words and your better judgment,  you found yourself smitten. 

[astromaki]

part 4 of second choice — ceo!shoto todoroki x gn!reader (x ceo!katsuki bakugo) (1170 words)

part 1. part 2. part 3. (previous)

tw ; minors dni angst, toxic family, low self-esteem, mention of divorce, mention of alcohol

extra info; all the characters are aged up (they are 30)

10 minutes after the confrontation. your mother called you that night, a few minutes after you left your home.

it was exactly what you didn't need at the time. that endless lecture, one of the thousands she had been giving you since you were little. those words full of venom had lost their importance to you over the years.

all the time the same slanders, the same insults, the same belittling. but it was all your fault, right ?

you were disappointing your family to get your way. how selfish were you?

thanks to your rich parents, you had married a wealthy and influential man in this society. just go to the gala with him, smile at the reporters. be presentable.

and yet that's what you tried to do. for months, for years. you wanted to be perfect for him, for this man. but did he even acknowledge the fact that you were living in the same fucking house ? of course no. so, divorce you from shoto todoroki ? do it, do it and you will be disinherited.

is that what you really want ? to please your family, stay unhappy with this todoroki.

it's the least you can do. you were a spoiled brat, no better than your father said you mother. why didn't you take a cue from your older sister and brother ? they seemed to have made it in life, unlike you.

so don't complain, you had only one purpose in life. just one, it's not too much to ask. to marry a rich young man from high society to raise his children and continue the y/l/n dynasty.

instead you went to law school, studied instead of slutting around with the bourgeois sons of your family friends.

you succeeded, you created your own name, not the name of your maiden or your future husband. you created this image of an influential person. confident, arrogant, the men were at your feet. but then shoto came.

you knew him from afar, a friend of a friend of your father's apparently. the young man was polite at every event, gala. well-bred, intelligent, charismatic, eloquent.

how could you not fall in love with him ?

then you were married to him. and he only needed that haughty look to destroy all those years of work.

he made you feel like a kid by his side, a spoiled, naive and reckless child. that ridicule and shame he made you feel when you had done something you were proud of.

this feeling of inferiority that you had managed to escape from your family, you had found it again with this frightening man. you had become the clown in your own house, the servants must have laughed at your domestic scenes.

he had succeeded in making you forget your wedding anniversary, savoring the pleasures that a man can give you with a simple compliment, or even a small sign of affection. the todoroki had always been a respected, even feared name. because of the father, now because of the son.

so, you were a fool to develop ever stronger feelings for him. ever bigger.

but it wasn't your fault, your parents didn't show you any love, any gesture of affection, you didn't talk that much except for business and inheritance.

their love was cold. reserved, distant. you knew they loved you, and that was enough for you.

you were used to that kind of affection, that was your definition of love.

that's why you were so easily attracted to those who didn't deserve you. those who so easily played on your true love. so easily in love with shoto todoroki and his cold love. that's what you knew well. you felt protected with that, and in danger when they gave you too much. too bad it wasn't reciprocated.

too bad you couldn't see that green jealousy tinting katsuki's cheeks. oh let's talk about katsuki.

that poor idiot who had made this rivalry in his head between him and shoto. he hated him for treating you so badly, neglecting such an extraordinary person as you. what did he see in momo that he didn't see in you ?

this asshole must have had very few neurons to miss the treasure that you were.

but he hated you too. how could you fall in love with him ? when katsuki was standing right in front of you ?

bakugou started from nothing, created this company, built a flourishing empire. and now he's playing with billions of dollars so he can approach you and your family with dignity at the most coveted galas of the moment in all of east asia. fuck, for you, y/n, he even became the enemy of shoto todoroki !

and all you did was complain that shoto didn't compliment your outfit or your new hairstyle. you were brainwashed. he knew that you would always return to shoto like a dog to his master. that all shoto had to do was whistle for you to come back and beg him to let you love him, again and again.

he love you sincerely, it's so pure, so loyal. and itd be the most genuine passion you would ever meet again. but his desire to destroy the todoroki son far exceeded his love for you, y/n.

what a pathetic fate. even in the eyes of your soulmate, between you and revenge, you would be the second choice.

todoroki was standing outside his window with a glass of scotch in his hand. he saw you leaving in the arms of your charming knight, now fleeing him like the plague.

katsuki was waiting for you in his luxury car, ready to take you to your so-called business meeting. seeing you walk away from him, from your home, to throw yourself into the lion's den.

he wasn't jealous, he wasn't happy either. he did not feel lighter or heavier. it's strange, it can't be explained. shoto finally got what he wanted for years. to see you go. and yet.

he turned his head slowly as he saw the car leave the property. his gaze fell on the bed, he foolishly expected to see you in your nightie on the bed, asleep on the edge of the bed. a tired sigh escaped from his lips. the same sentence ran round and round in his head.

you hadn't learned anything from your mistakes. you were always running to rich men who didn't care about you. like him, like bakugou katsuki.

he was almost tempted to look back you. it's true, even though, you had always been a pain in the ass for him.

what did he owe you now ?

"a couple of jerks, what a great pair. tell me you're going to win all her money in the divorce." sighs momo at his side.

shoto had his back to her, now following with his eyes the tiny point of light that was bakugou's car.

"i don't know. but at least we're free of that pain in the ass. she's gone." he says, almost whispering.

the young man put the pen on the desk, close to the sheet of paper that now contained your two signatures.

go check 5000$ if you want more toxic shoto <3

🔖 tag list ; @nveusii @angelofthorr @missmolliemoo @jazzylove @loki-an-idiot @deepestranchgoopdeputy @mhasimp666 @shotorozu @chscklvr @devilsbooksworld @beigeunburdened @marshmallow12345 (those in bold cannot be tagged!)

[schneesisterss]

Do you have any head cannons for the other Dimitrescu sisters? I loved your takes on Cassandra!

thank you! <3 and Of Course I have headcannons for the other two. (though not as extensive as the ones I have for Cassandra bc you know... brain rot) BUT HERE:

Daniela:

ADD/ADHD representation

stims include, but not limited to: jumping, hard blinking, leg bouncing, word/phrase/noise repetition, and fidgeting with her clothing

and i’m also CONVINCED she gets the zoomies at random times of the day

Alcina, hearing loud and fast footsteps up and down her hallway at 3am: *sigh* “Daniela! Take it outside!”

followed by a loud THUMP and painful groan (she definitely ran into a wall)

hates loud noises but simultaneously has no volume control

especially when she gets excited

Cassandra has to constantly remind her to lower her voice

“AND THEN I TOOK MY KNIFE AND STABBED THE LYCAN IN THE NECK AND IT WAS SO COOL—”

“Dani, i’m standing right here, why are you yelling?”

she loves play-fighting with her sisters

Cassandra is more willing to entertain her than Bela but the both of them like to see their sister happy. so whenever they recognize Daniela getting antsy they’ll wrestle with her a bit

(Cassandra gets way to into it sometimes and makes Bela be the referee lol. Cass always ends up pinning her younger sister with a proud, competitive smile on her face. Bela let’s Dani win, but we don’t tell her that)

has the keenest senses of the three which makes her the best at stalking/killing pray

and since she can hear the best out of all of them, she unintentionally eves drops on conversations

so Daniela, bless her, has all the tea

tactile learner

will just. touch things

“Life hard, Mothers gown soft”

can get trapped in her own head and doesn’t know how to express to her family what’s bothering her

this can make her very reserved at times and she’ll distance herself for days on end

her mother is really the only person who knows how to get her out of that state. Alcina walks up the long flight of stairs to the highest point of her castle. her youngest daughter likes to come here sometimes when she needs the quiet. “Daniela? Are you up here?”

“Hello, Mother.” Alcina looks up to see her daughter lounging on a banister high up on the ceiling.

“What are you doing up there, my love?” Daniela rubs the fabric of her dress between her fingers. “Cassandra and Bela were arguing again. I don’t like when Cassandra yells.”

Alcina shakes her head. Those two were always going at it. She’ll speak to Bela about it later. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.” Daniela then grabs a fist full of her dress and tugs at it, blinking hard. “Come down for a moment. Talk to me, baby.”

and Daniela simply rolls herself off the banister and into free fall. Alcina, already prepared, catches her with ease and holds her bridal style against her chest. Daniela runs her hands over the sleeve of her mother’s dress.

Alcina gave her youngest child time to gather her thoughts, knowing it sometimes takes longer for her to be able to understand them herself. Daniela finally spoke up: “It’s been very loud recently. Around the castle. Small things, like footsteps or glasses clicking, they sound so loud in my head.” She covers her ears with her hands. “Even now I can still hear Cassandras voice through the castle, it’s pushing in my ears. My head hurts, Mother.”

Alcina gave her daughter a quick squeeze before setting her down. “Follow me baby, I want to show you something.” Daniela followed her Mother through the twists and turns of the castle until they ended up at a door that was just like all the others. It blended in and maybe that’s why Daniela has never noticed it before. “In here.” her mother guided.

Inside was a small library and lounge room. A fire place tucked in the corner and, of course, a wall a wine next to it. Daniela looked at her Mother questioningly.

“Listen.” her mother said, and Daniela did. She heard... nothing. Nothing outside of the quiet cracking of the fire place. “This room is sound proofed. Come here whenever you feel overwhelmed.” She leaned down to stroke her daughters head. “Just don’t tell your sisters I showed you my secret getaway room.” and with a wink, the tall woman exited the room and shut the door behind her.

The next day Daniela was at breakfast like nothing had changed. She didn’t even mind when Cassandra yelled at a maiden for breaking a plate, it only made her laugh.

(if you get overstimulated you KNOW what i’m talking about)

personal space? never heard of her.

loves to cling to Belas arm and Bela let’s her bc she thinks it’s just. so cute.

will also sometimes just crawl into her mothers lap and fall asleep. then Alcinas like: “well.. i guess i’m not moving for three hours”

Daniela: “if I run an jump at Cassandra, she’ll most certainly catch me.” *takes off in a full blown sprint*

Cassandra: “NO IM HOLDING HOT TEA—” *drops tea to catch Daniela* *proceeds to cuss her younger sister out, all while Dani is wrapped around her like a koala*

(this happens a lot. Dani will just... climb on Cassandra. piggy back rides, getting on her shoulders, wrapping her hands around her neck from behind and letting her feet drag on the floor, etc. Cassandra complains adamantly but never once moves to get her off)

Cassandra: “hey Dani, I dare you too—”

Bela: “Mother said Daniela isn’t allowed to accept dares anymore.”

Daniela: “apparently I have ‘no regard for my personal safety.’”

it takes a lot for Daniela to get genuinely angry, but when she does, it’s.... bad.

Very Very Scary when mad

turns into a completely different person that you Do NOT want to fuck with

dangerous and violent

much more dark and sadistic as compared to her normal personality

came home one night covered in blood and laughing hysterically. it scared the shit out of her sisters bc if they would try and get close, she’d slash at them with her weapon.

(this was one of the only times Bela had seen Cassandra genuinely worried and afraid for their sister)

when Alcina came to see what was wrong, Daniela, still laughing madly, swung at her too. Cassandra quickly shot out her arm and grabbed Belas elbow to stop her from getting involved. Bela whipped around with a growl but Cassandras glare and squeezing nails told her to back down. Mother can handle it.

Insane Laugh™️

thinks it’s funny to intimidate the maidens by showing her fangs and snapping her jaw

she often likes to find Bela when she’s reading a book to convince her to read to her (Bela almost always complies)

that’s it for Daniela. just a hyperactive baby with a murder streak <3 ONTO THE FINAL SISTER

Bela:

Mama’s (and I cannot stress this enough) Girl

needs constant reassurance that’s she’s doing a good job and yes this reassurance can ONLY come from her mother

INSOMNIAC

this girl never sleeps, pls baby you need some rest

she spends the time she should be sleeping reading books or running errands for her mother (whether Alcina asked her to or not)

she has read almost every single book in their giant library

Cassandra doesn’t understand this at all

“Why are you always cooped up in here?” Bela glanced up over the pages of her book at her younger sister. “This is the library Cassandra. Take a wild guess.” her voice was completely level and had no inflection. Cassandra gritted her teeth, “You think your so much better than me.” Bela sighed and closed her book. She didn’t want to do this again. “No. I don’t.” she said seriously. Cassandra eyed her for a moment then looked away, Bela saw the guilt on her face before she turned on her heal. “You’re so boring.”

because she reads so much, she is incredibly smart and just knows facts about random things

Daniela, daydreaming: “I wonder why grass is green.”

Bela, immediately: “the pigment that most grasses produce, Chlorophyll, absorbs almost all blue and red light and reflects green light which is why we see green. so I mean, technically grass is every single color EXCEPT for green.

Dani, confused as fuck: ....

Cass: “Bitch, how do you even know that?”

Bela’s sisters just end up using her as Google

“Hey Bela, how far away is the moon?” “238,900 miles.”

“Hey Bela, how many different climates are there?” “Twelve”

“Hey Bela, what’s the worlds deadliest poison?” “Botulinum... why?” “No reason.” “Dani. WHY?”

“Hey Bela, how much can I sell a human skull on the black market for?” Bela, concerned: “Cassandra why would—” “HOW MUCH?” “Well... are all the teeth still in tact?” “...No.” “Than only about $500.” “FUCK.”

“Hey Bela, I have this weird rash on my back and—” “Daniela. Do not finish that sentence. Go ask Mother.”

she is so quiet

and not just because she doesn’t talk very loud or even much at all. she’s just So. Silent. when she moves

just pops up in random places without anyone hearing her approach

even Daniela can’t hear her coming, which is saying something

Cassandra, minding her own business, drinking blood tea: .....

Bela, suddenly right next to her: “Hey I was wondering if— stop screaming, it’s me— have you seen Mothers lipstick? It’s missing.”

refuses any type of help with anything or else she feels like she failed that task

Never asks for help, Never asks for favors, and Never Ever will burden her Mother with any of her problems. Ever.

(Alcina thinks this is ridiculous. her eldest daughter pushes herself too hard.)

Anxiety™️

sometimes when her anxiety becomes too much she shuts down and becomes very indifferent to things around her. this has caused many fights between herself and Cassandra because Cass will get really fired up when all Bela does is respond with a monotone voice and blank stare.

overthinks literally everything and is a perfectionist

this makes her prone to panic attacks :(

when this happens she shuts herself in her room, not wanting to bother her Mother or sisters

Bela closes her bedroom door behind her and stumbles to her knees. she can’t seem to get air into her lungs no matter how hard she tried. she had failed. Mother asked her to bring her the head of that stupid man-thing, but somehow he knew their weakness.

how could he know? are Cassandra and Daniela ok? where are they? where is Mother?

Belas breathing was shallow and short, her chest burns as she presses her forehead into the ground. She claws the skin of her chest raw, leaving angry, red marks behind, desperately trying to open her lungs.

she stays as quiet as she can, only gasping few and far between. she will not be a burden. she should deal with the consequences of her failure. alone.

a sudden knock on her door makes her scramble backwards on her bottom till her back hits the opposite wall. then Belas worst nightmare, her Mothers voice.

“Bela?! Bela, is that you?” Alcinas words were rushes and worried. the door handle jiggled. “Bela, baby the door is locked, please let me in.” Bela covered her mouth and cried silently while her Mother begged to be let in.

the sound of snapping wood had Belas eyes flying open, her Mother had broken down the door. Bela shrunk into herself. She’s going to be so mad. I’m a failure. the ringing in her ears became so intense she couldn’t hear anything else.

large, soft hands cup her cheeks and a muffled voice through the air: “Bela, my love, you’re alright thank god. Are you hurt anywhere? Let me see.”

Bela pushed weakly at her Mothers arms and said between sobs, “I-I’m sorry, M-Mother.”

Alcina looked at her eldest daughter with confusion, she had no physical wounds, but the look on her face was heartbreaking. “What are you sorry for, my love?” this only made Belas breathing spend up even more, her face red from the lack of oxygen. Alcina quickly pulled her in close.

“Now Bela, listen to the sound of my voice,” she said it gently but just hard enough to grab her daughters attention. “I need you to copy my breath. Do it now, love, listen to me. Do what i’m telling you to.” Alcina took exaggerated breaths and noticed that instantly after her command, Bela had tried to follow, but the smaller girls breath was still choppy and small. Alcina rubbed a thumb across Belas cheek. “You’re doing so well baby. Keep going just like that. Good girl.” a smaller hand was placed on her arm and grabbed at her sleeve. “Good baby, use me to ground yourself. Keep breathing now, you’re doing so good.” Alcina kept whispering soft encouragements and praises until her daughters breathing was back to normal and she was laying limp on her chest.

Alcina moved the hair away from Belas face. “What a good girl, you did so well.” Bela squeezed her eyes shut and pushed into her Mother until her face was hidden. “I’m sorry Mother.” came a muffled apology, though her voice was much more steadier than before. “I failed you, I couldn’t stop the man-thing. He shot at the windows! He knows our weakness, Mother. What are we going to do? Where’s Daniela and Cassandra, are they ok? I should have stopped him for you I’m so sorry I—”

“Quiet.” Bela immediately seals her lips and looks away, already extracting herself from her Mother’s arms. She probably hates her. Alcina simple tugs her back and forces Bela to look in her eyes with a quick tap to the forehead. “Bela, I need you to listen to me very carefully.” Her daughters eyes go wide and she nods. “You have nothing to apologize for. This is not you’re fault and I will not allow you to think that way. Plus, the man-thing won’t bother us any longer, I took care of it.”

“But—” Alcina raises an eyebrow and Bela gives in, nodding hesitantly. “Good girl.” Bela exhales through her nose at the phrase and squeezes her Mother’s sleeve again. They sit like that for a few more moments, calming down.

Bela suddenly shoots up. “Daniela, Cassandra, are they—” “They’re fine my dear, Daniela got a little banged up, but Cassandra was already patching her up before I could even get close. We didn’t know where you were, that’s why I was so worried.” Bela relaxed and again nuzzled her nose into her Mother’s chest, took one more deep breath, then stood. “I’m going to go check on them.”

She steps through the now empty door frame and pauses. She spoke without turning around: “I won’t fail you again, Mother.” and shifts into a cloud of flies and disappears.

(am I projecting again? idk help)

can play the piano

no like you don’t understand, she is so good at piano

this girl has mastered songs by composers like Liszt, Beethoven, and Ravel

she’ll play for hours on end, if she starts a new piece she Will Not get up until she can play it through perfectly

she pretends not to notice Cassandra secretly listening to her play, hidden behind a nearby bookshelf

while her younger sisters always jump head first into a fight, Bela takes a more calculating approach. learning her enemies movements from afar before advancing and ending it in like 3 quick moves.

“Well Bela, if Mother asked you to jump off a bridge, would you?”

Bela, already climbing over the railing: “Hm?”

and there you go for Bela! my sweet child.. please learn self-care.

*ahem* I went overboard again didn’t I? WELP. I regret nothing. Give me more headcannons.

[redphlox]

Dabi's fear of feelings and connections

Dabi is a walking contradiction; he says he doesn't care about anyone, but his flames, which are linked to his emotions, demonstrate otherwise when Twice is killed. Dabi brushes off the news that Natsuo could have died because of him but still refers to him affectionately as Natsu-kun. Touya went around calling Endeavor out for neglecting his children but still trained to regain his approval and attention anyway. He lashed out at baby Shouto, admitted Shouto had done nothing wrong, and then attacked him again years later. He cries blood while thinking about his family but doesn't go home to them or change his actions which hurt them even more. Dabi wants to destroy hero society for a better future but it's obvious he doesn't plan to live long enough to see that future.

The gaps between his actions and his words are a result of dissociation and repression. It's not that Dabi is emotionless. Actually, he feels too much and he's afraid of his feelings because they've done nothing but hurt him emotionally and physically. He literally almost burned to death the one time he had a burst of emotion on Sekoto Peak and in order to prevent a repeat of that, he operates under the flawed notion that safety lies in repressing his feelings and pushing people away. He lies to himself and others and therefore cannot reconcile with his true self and can’t trust others.

In this meta I'll discuss how Dabi deals with his unprocessed feelings of betrayal and neglect by denying himself connections with both his inner wounded child and those around him. I'll also address a few misconceptions surrounding Dabi because dismantling them is key to understanding him. Contrary to popular belief, he does not want to kill his father, he never wanted to be a hero for his own sake, and he doesn't hate Shouto or his family. At its core, Touya's hurt stems from discovering that his relationship with his father wasn't based on unconditional love. This realization destroyed his sense of self so much it caused him to start fearing his own feelings and being close to others because of the link between his emotions and his self-destructive quirk.

To understand Dabi we have to understand Touya. In 291 we see through Endeavor's flashback that Touya was eager to train under him and carry his legacy. It's implied by the fact they’re working on ultimate moves that not only is Touya a willing, eager participant but that the two have been training together for quite some time. In 301 we learn that after Touya's quirk started hurting him Endeavor not only abandoned the training regime but also abandoned Touya both emotionally and physically. Instead of using the time he spent training Touya to help Touya find a new hobby or purpose in life, or just hanging out with his kid, Endeavor chooses to remove himself from Touya’s life. When Touya confronts him about the change of routine, Endeavor is seen putting on his jacket and leaving the home, his body turned away from his son.

Maybe Endeavor had errands to run, but my point is that he was in Touya’s life one minute and then gone the next. Touya says so himself: why did Endeavor change his mind all of a sudden? The abrupt change in attitude was jarring for a 4-5 year old to handle. To Touya, training = love, so he felt compelled to keep training and demonstrate his worthiness despite the fact that his quirk was hurting him. To Touya, the pain was worth it if it meant hanging out with his dad again.

But why? Well, Touya was Endeavor's #1 fan, genuinely so. His admiration and fondness for his father was genuine, and he didn't question the triumphant look on Endeavor's face when Touya said he wanted to learn the ultimate move. Before his quirk started burning him, Touya had no idea he was born for his father's ulterior motives. He had no reason to question his father's attention. Touya lived under the impression his bond with his dad was genuine and special, and he probably felt lucky that his father was willing to share something so important to him (heroism). Even after the training stops and Endeavor stops paying attention to Touya, Touya still wears his merch and vies for his attention. Most kids see their parents as larger than life and Touya was no exception. Keigo Takami admired Endeavor the hero, and Touya Todoroki admired his father who just so happened to be the hero Endeavor. Since being a hero was such a big deal for Endeavor, it was a big deal for Touya.

But that's where Touya's story becomes tragic. His father is a flawed, flawed man with many insecurities and fallacies that he pushes onto his family. I’ll get to those in a moment, but as intelligent and observant Touya is to catch on that Endeavor never set out to marry to become a father, he is too young to separate himself from his father’s expectations. Touya realizes he was born for a purpose and Touya will be damned if he doesn't fulfill that purpose even if he knows it's wrong. His father's ‘love’ meant that much to him. For Touya, it's not about becoming a hero for the glory. It was about his relationship with his father because, as I mentioned earlier, Touya was his #1 fan in the sense that he loved Enji just for being his dad. There were no conditions tied to that. “You are my dad, and I love you.”

But that wasn’t a sentiment that Touya felt in return, and that hurt Touya. He internalized he wasn't good enough, that something about him was inherently wrong. But more than that, his world came tumbling down - he felt betrayed and lied to: his father didn't love him like Touya needed him to, and this truth destroyed him. Their relationship was a lie, a farce, and it hurt so much Touya became obsessed with not hurting anymore because he couldn’t get away from it.

Touya’s motivation to become a hero didn't rise from being inspired by All Might like Shouto. Touya’s thought process wasn’t "I want to be a hero to help others or be like All Might" like Deku. No, Touya only wanted to be a hero because he wanted his father to be proud of him for surpassing All Might. Notice that Touya's obsession with beating All Might slowly diminishes from “I can surpass All Might” to “I can surpass All Might like Shouto, too” to just “look at me, Endeavor.” It was never about being a hero per say, but about his relationship with his father. Touya realized that Endeavor isn't his father first, but a hero, and he understands that he has to be a hero too to fit into his father's world. Even upon realizing that his father was using him, Touya still wanted to be part of his life, still wanted that bond. Touya, in his desperation to be loved and accepted again, could look past his father's selfishness as long as he regained that approval. Touya could pretend the relationship was real as long as he stopped feeling so unlovable.

This is unhealthy thinking, of course. Even if Touya somehow managed to regain Endeavor's approval, the relationship would still be one-sided and dissatisfying because he wouldn't be able to ignore the truth. But, this is how he rationalized his insistence to keep training in his 4-5 year old mind and this line of thought stuck with him as he grew up just as those feelings of inadequacy never left him.

This is precisely why Natsuo's drowsy "can't you go talk to our sister?" hurt so much. Touya was already emotionally fragile, and hearing that felt like being rejected all over again when it was actually Natsuo just trying to sleep. Touya was hypersensitive to any words or actions that could be interpreted as dismissive. His trauma wouldn't listen to logic that Natsuo was 8 and too young to understand, that he was tired - no, Touya's brain said, you're being rejected again! This is also why he also stormed away crying from Fuyumi after she expressed her concern for him.

In Touya’s mind, why couldn't anyone just agree with him that he was good enough? He heard "your dad's right and you're not good enough so why try" not "I care about you, your father is wrong, and I don't want you to keep getting hurt" whenever Rei tried to get him to stop training because that's the message he got from his father, too. Nevermind that it infuriated Touya that his mother could stand there and preach to him when, from his perspective, she couldn’t take her own advice. All Endeavor ever did was teach him to turn up the heat, so why should it matter that doing just so hurts him? Touya didn't understand NOT training his quirk because he had been taught that raising his firepower was ideal in all situations. Those two statements didn't make sense to a 4-5 year old, a 13 year old, and it still doesn’t make sense as a 24 year old.

To take Endeavor's lack of self awareness a step further, because it's important to understand Endeavor to fully understand Dabi, Endeavor has yet to realize his own inherent worth. He doesn't have to prove anything to his family, especially his kids. They love him unconditionally, without special reason aside from the fact that he's theirs and he's himself. However, Endeavor is so obsessed with proving himself that he doesn't realize he never had to, and he projects this onto his children. They must prove themselves by winning the genetic lottery, by being useful to his plans, by surpassing All Might.

The irony that to be a great father he doesn't have to be a hero at all is ugly because Endeavor has no identity outside of being a hero. Endeavor has said before he wants to be a good hero and father to make Shouto proud, but he fails to realize he already had this in Touya all those years ago and it still left him unsatisfied. The issue isn’t his role as a hero, it’s his inner self. In 301 Endeavor literally reaches out to Touya to talk him out of training and hurting himself, and Touya allows his father to touch his shoulders because he wants a bond with his father - any bond. Shouto, on the other hand, wouldn't allow Endeavor to touch him in 167 and slaps his hand away because he doesn’t want Endeavor’s approval. Endeavor doesn't realize Natsuo carries deep abandonment and neglect issues because he wanted to be accepted by his father too (light novel #5) but was ignored. Endeavor doesn't realize he was always good enough by default and that by projecting onto his kids and trying to be the top hero he’s doing the opposite of what he wants. He just keeps pushing away his family.

It’s important to point out Endeavor’s illogical thinking because Touya learned some of these same ideas. Touya repeatedly tries to prove himself without realizing that he was always good enough by default. The problem wasn’t his quirk or his body, but his father’s flawed thinking and self-worth issues. Now as an adult, Dabi is selfish because he's Endeavor's son and emobidies his most negative characteristics. Dabi thinks of his flames as Endeavor's, and he thinks of himself as an extension of Endeavor because that's how Endeavor set him up for life. Touya has no identity to fall back on after his father casts him aside. He was supposed to be Endeavor 2.0, but now that title is Shouto’s. Dabi doesn’t hate Shouto as a person, but he has tricked himself into believing Shouto is their father’s puppet. Shouto is a doll being used by their father with no self agency, and Dabi is going to break all of Endeavor’s toys. It’s nothing personal against Shouto, it’s just Shouto’s bad luck that he happens to be Endeavor’s masterpiece. This is why Dabi doesn’t hurt Shouto when they first meet at the training camp, and why Dabi stops attacking Shouto after Endeavor passes out - it’s not about Shouto. It’s about Endeavor, and breaking Endeavor. Touya is still there trying to be part of his father’s world, only this time not as a hero but as a villain who will end his own suffering. He doesn't want Endeavor to die, he just wants him to suffer, to ruin his dreams. Dabi thinks of it as justice.

But because Touya is still there, there is still that goodness in him, too. His connection to Fuyumi and Natsuo is still there, repressed and compartmentalized. It’s why he calls them affectionately as Fuyumi-chan and Natsu-kun. Touya’s pain is so great he has decided he’d rather end it than to carry on and look elsewhere. He's stuck, rightfully so. He recognizes his mother is a flawed person and ultimately doesn’t blame her for being a victim - she could have done more for her son, but he still sees her and his other siblings, even Shouto, as people who fell victim to Endeavor’s abuse who don't challenge their situation. Dabi sees himself as someone who does stand up to the abuse but doesn’t realize he still wants his father’s attention. He's always wanted it. That's why he went around at 13 condemning his father's treatment of his children but still trained to prove himself. This is part of the reason he became a villain.

Not to mention that Dabi literally can't cry. He has no way to release those emotions, so instead of trying to let them out, he pushes them down. But that doesn't work and is detrimental in the long run. In 290-294 we saw Dabi's flames burn so hot during his confrontation with Endeavor and revealing himself as Touya that his burns have spread. Dabi is afraid of his feelings because of their connection to his flames, but he also uses his feelings to his advantage. He wants to go out in an inferno along with Shouto just to hurt Endeavor and put an end to his own suffering and Endeavor's career. This is why Dabi doesn't bother calming himself down or denying that he never forgot how he was treated when he lived at home. Dabi became emotional in that battlefield, smiling maniacally instead of crying because he physically can't cry. In his mind, if his feelings are going to destroy him, he might as well use them to prove a point. After all, he has experience being used. It's why he was born.

I'm not saying any of these actions or thoughts are healthy or correct or condoned, by the way. Trauma responses don't make logical sense and usually aren't healthy. Knowing how the mind responds to trauma, it's understandable that Touya still wanted his father's attention even if it was abusive. In fact, this is how children often respond to abuse. Their caretaker/parent is all they know and they cling to these figures. Often times when authorities try to remove a child from their abusive parents, the child doesn't want to go because this parent is all they know and they do feel like they love their parent/caretaker. I’m not saying the authorities got involved in this case, because obviously they didn’t, but this same mentality of abused children can be applied to Touya. Touya, in his four year old mind, probably convinced himself that if he was good enough everything would go back to how it used to be.

So, to sum up Dabi’s character, of course he doesn't make any sense. He’s still that hurt 4-5 year old who is trying to protect himself from ever getting hurt like that again while still wanting his father’s validation. Of course he doesn’t want to get close to anyone, not even the League. He doesn't want to be vulnerable or let people in or form connections because the last time that happened he was let down, forsaken, and it hurt so much it literally made him lose control of his quirk to the point he almost died. When Twice is killed, Dabi consoles himself by saying he didn't care anyway, all to prevent another emotional fire. Dabi is a master of compartmentalizing and boxing away his feelings - this is probably why, 310 chapters into BNHA, we have yet to have a few chapters in his POV or his backstory. He's disconnected from himself. He knows his plot to get justice will hurt his siblings and mother and to live with himself and move forward he represses those feelings.

Because of his father not showing up on Sekoto peak, Dabi has to live with physical disabilities due to his scars and memories of burning alive. He doesn't want to go through that again so he lies to himself that he doesn't care about anyone or anything. He denies that he's still in pain while simultaneously seeking validation of his pain. He acts like he doesn't care about his family but still calls them affectionate names. He acts like he hates Endeavor and calls him by his name but still wants his attention. He decided long ago that he would die destroying Endeavor's career because that was the thing Endeavor cares about most of all in this life. It's a "you hurt me so I'll hurt you" mentality. He has tricked himself into thinking this is justice, failing to realize this won't make him feel better if he doesn't die by his own hand along the way.

Dabi is full of resentment and spite, both of which take root from feelings of abandonment, betrayal, and the loss of a purpose and the realization that he wasn't born to be loved for who he was but as a tool for his father. The first betrayal he suffered was in the form of realizing his father didn't love him genuinely, and this was identity-breaking for him. He never recovered from it. The second betrayal, the reinforcer, was his father not showing up to Sekoto Peak. Since then, Dabi is reliving his trauma over and over again the more he uses his quirk and the more he faces Endeavor. To be saved, Dabi needs to accept that he is loved unconditionally and needs to be validated that he was right to feel thrown aside and used.

[el-moscorrofio-y-el-mercachifle]

Calderón AU— Part 5

Same warnings as ever! You can find all the ptevious parts by clickling the "Calderón AU" tag!💕

((Good lord i hate me cuz i have finally found the draft for the Calderon AU i did like three months ago and I missed A BIG STEP. I hate me for this. Imma pretend I did it on purpose and add it here lol))

“En realidad, Betty, usted me gusta mucho,” says Mr. Mario, still standing at the other side of her desk, in the dim light of the her desklamp. There is a slight, soft smile on his face, but his eyes are dark under the little light of the suffocating room.

Needless to say, Betty is speechless.

It is quiet obvious, when she thinks about it later that day, because what other reason would a man have to keep bringing her gifts like these?

In any case, right now, Betty is shocked in silence. Mr. Mario chuckles lightly, in a way that any other woman would have found charming, before speaking again.

He says he can see she’s surprised, and he gets it; it was a shock for him too when he first realized. It was strange to imagine a man like him being actually in love.

It probably didn’t help, either, that he actively made efforts to hide his feelings, he says. He just… didn’t know what to do or how to act, he says to Betty.

Truth is, the “i didn’t know how to handle my long-held feelings so I hid them” is actually a good excuse Mario has used a few times when suddenly he got interested in a specific woman that before didn’t catch his attention enough. Play it off as a “i was just repressing my feelings, that’s why you didn’t notice. I was actively trying to hide them”

This is a tricky technique, 50 50 chances of working… but due to Betty’s (presumed) inexperience, Mario thinks it will work.

He’s not totally wrong, but also, not right, either. Betty’s just confused.

He can see that, so he continues: “perdóneme, Betty, si la tomé por sorpresa, es sólo que… no quería sefuir ocultándoselo. De verdad, usted me gusta mucho.”

Betty at this point realises that she probably needs to say something, and so, she lets out a nervous laugh, and stops looking at him as she answers. Yeah, she’s surprised, she says. She would have neber guessed and…

And… what? Calderón realizes Betty doesn’t know what to say. Clear indication it is not reciprocrated. Okay, then. Let’s go smoother.

“Yo entiendo que esto fue muy repentino, Betty pero… por favor, déjeme demostrarle que le digo la verdad. Permítame llevarla a su casa.”

Betty immediately rejects the idea, but Calderón takes it as a sign of absolutely bothersome modesty, because this a-hole of a man cannot comprehend the idea that a an ugly woman truthfully rejects his advances.

He is quickly coming to realize just how annoying her stubborness is, but his annoyance is well hidden under his prince charming's facade. It's not the first time he's dealt with way too modest women, after all.

Truth is, obviously, that Betty isn't being modest. She genuinely doesn't want mr Mario to drive her home.

Somehow, he ends up winning at the end. Betty's only request is that they wait a little before going out together because, apparently, she still has stuff to do. Mario assumes this is because of Armando, and he's right about it, but pretends he doesn't know and agrees

It's better for him that way. He trully doesn't want to be seen with murcielaguín.

By the time they leave, Armando (and the rest of the ppl, but Armando is the only one who actually matters to betty, Mario thinks) has already left Ecomoda.

The car ride is awkward for Betty, starting with how Mr. Mario opened the door for her. It is a nice gesture, very gentlemanly, but she can't stop thinking how she wishes it were Mr. Armando who did it.

During the ride, Mr. Mario tries to make conversation and eventually gets Betty to talk more than in simple short sentences.

For Mario this is all very annoying. It's not hard or awkward, just boring. There is no fun in the chase if you don't really want to catch the prey.

It's all the standard questions: how did your day go, what do you think about X, do you like Y. No real chemistry anywhere, but Betty wants to think, eventually, that it's at least a sort of naturallly flowing convo. He even let her choose the music, she thinks to herself trying to be positive in a very uncomfortable situation.

Once they reach Betty's house, Mario stops in front of her house and turns to look at her. He asks for forgiveness if he's pressuring her, and says that he can feel her uncomfort. He asks if they can be friends.

Betty reluctantly agrees

Mario smiles as softly as he can and tells her that, if she doesn't mind, he could continue to drive her home at night

"Yo sé que usted es una persona muy privada, Betty, y no me gustaría incomodarla poniendo su vida privada al aire. Si gusta, podemos repetir lo de hoy y esperar a que se vaya la gente para salir," suggests Mario, praying that she accepts. He doesn't wanna be seen with Mostrichátala and scare away all the beautiful models or ruin his record. "Se lo digo para evitar rumores o malos entendidos con otras personas, Betty, nada más."

Betty of course, agrees. She doesn't rwally want to be driven home, but Mr. Mario looks so insistent, and she knows he's her boss's best friend, and on top of that, the Vice President. She feels obligated to say yes, so that's what she does. She tries to tell herself that keeping him as a friend is not a compromise.

Don Mario once again tries to open the door, but Betty refuses, fearing that her father can see them.

"No, don Mario, no se moleste," she says, "es que mi papá podría estar viendo y no quisiera que lo malinterpretara."

Mario insists (and good lord, he's so fucking tired of begging this woman for everything), saying that there is nothing wrong with this, but Betty, this time, doesn't concede. When it comes to her dad and his image of her, Betty is much more adamant. Mario notices this, and saves this knowledge for later

Mario waits until she goes inside before driving off.

Now, this whole thing may sound very similar to how it was with Armando in the show, but it's not really. Armando was evidently tense, awkward, and just internally screaming that he didn't want to be there. The car rides were filled with tense silences. Mario is none of this things, and the car ride was filled with falsely enthusiastic conversation and soft jazz music. He is lying completely, but he's not awkward or tense about it. Anyone who saw him would absolutelt believe he's fine, calm, happy, and mote importantly, genuinely interested in Betty.

He knows Betty is smart and he needs to put up an absoljtely perfect show, or otherwise, she'll notice something's off.

Good Lord, how exhausting. No wonder Armado didn't want to do it!

Sooo! Here it is! Finally part 5! Sorry it took so long haha what do you think about this part and the developments it's taking?? Please comment and share🥰🥰

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 314: ...Or You Live Long Enough to See Yourself Become the Villain

Previously on BnHA: Some random assholes were all “let’s throw exploding spears at All Might and see if it activates his Conqueror’s Haki” and SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKERS, IT DID!! Elsewhere, Lady Nagant confusingly tried to capture Deku alive by shooting him in the stomach, but to be fair I guess that’s what happens when you send an assassin to do a bounty hunter’s job, so yeah. Deku was all “ouch”, and then because this is a shounen he basically just straight up forgot about it, and did a big fancy Smokescreen thing, and then activated his mildly incomprehensible new ki-blasting quirk which he got from the Third. En and the Third were all “hey Deku maybe let’s not just impulsively activate all this shit in the heat of battle when you don’t know how to use it yet and you’re already injured,” and Deku was all “thanks for the quirks guys but I’ll take it from here” and snuck up on Nagant and grabbed her arm and so now what’s going to happen I wonder.

Today on BnHA: Nagant is all “[shoots Deku again]” because of course she is lol. Deku is all “tell me about AFO!” and Nagant is all “why would I tell you anything?” and then proceeds to tell him her entire life story which is FILLED WITH SO MUCH MURDER, YOU GUYS. Holy shit. So basically she was an assassin for the HPSC, which we already knew, but somehow it’s one thing to know that, and another to actually see her running around capping dudes in the forehead and being covered in more blood than the elevator from The Shining. Anyway, so you’ll never believe it, but all that murder had a negative impact on her psychologically, and eventually led her to question everything she believed about hero society, and so she killed her creepy boss and was promptly sent to Tartarus. This extremely fun chapter ends with Overhaul showing up all “HI, HELLO, I’M STILL HERE”, because for some reason he is still here. Why are you still here, Overhaul.

“the beautiful Lady Nagant” oh you know your audience don’t you Horikoshi

well all right then! so I’m guessing this means that she is not, in fact, going to roll over and die just because Deku’s out here all “GOT YA!” like they’re playing a game or tag or something. ffff may the manga gods have mercy on our young suicidal protagonist

lmao so Deku is all “GOD I’M SO SMART, WHAT A GOOD STRATEGY I HAD, CAPITOL JOB THERE OL’ CHAP, CAPITOL” and lol, okay. I mean, it was a good plan though. but I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop here

“I’ll make you give me information on All for One” well there you go, lol. Deku Angst arc still fully engaged. still no light in his eyes either of course. just a lil chaotic ball of sleep deprivation and rage

lol, fucking THANK YOU though

oh my god what the hell did she do to him lol

did she shoot him with her elbow??? fucking look at this?? THIS IS WHY WE LISTEN TO HAWKS oh my god Deku are you dead

WHAT’S HAPPENING, IS THIS GOOD OR BAD, WHO’S WINNING

things that I wish I could tell from this panel which I unfortunately cannot tell

did she stab him or shoot him?? can you imagine if it was the former lol. why does Horikoshi keep stabbing all my kids. look Kacchan now the two of you can match

did she actually hit him or did he get away??

or did she hit him and then he jumped away?? just, what

well anyway, so now Deku is asking her why she sided with AFO, but he seems a lot more pissed off than when he was interrogating Muscular, though. probably because she shot him three times. fair enough

oh my god

does Lady have a blog here on tumblr dot com?? -- does Horikoshi have a blog here on tumblr motherfucking dot com?? why do I suddenly feel like this man is out here sneakily reading up on all our discourse

oh my god Deku it’s almost like getting up close and personal with someone who can shoot custom bullets from any distance and any position with deadly accuracy was a terrible fucking idea

IF ONLY SOMEONE HAD WARNED YOU NOT TO ENGAGE WITH HER AT ALL COSTS. IF ONLY SOMEONE HAD HAD THE FORESIGHT TO DO THAT sob. can you imagine how much shorter this series would be if characters actually listened to Hawks. Hawks, and Momo. why do we even let anyone else run the show ever

OH MY GOD

DEKU, RUN

OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING

this looks a lot like what happens to me whenever I play One’s Justice. those fucking combo attacks that you can’t fucking escape from and so your character just has to stand there getting their ass whalloped repeatedly while you wonder why you paid $40 for this

but anyways though. so Lady who did you kill?? I bet they deserved it, don’t worry I forgive you

(ETA: ANYWAY SO FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT LADY NAGANT DID NOTHING WRONG EVER IN HER ENTIRE LIFE. aside from murdering all those innocent people and shit. but there were CIRCUMSTANCES, and THEY WERE EXTENUATING, OKAY.)

-- holy shit

looks like the HPSC arc is back on the menu boys

so are we about to learn that the HPSC was going full Hydra on people’s asses? secretly dispatching anyone they deemed a threat to society?? “taken care of” as in you fucking shot them??

so then was the “hero” she killed actually one of the guys who was giving or carrying out these orders?? holy shit Lady, up until now I’ve mainly just been stanning you for your flawless eyebrow game and metal af quirk, but this shit could actually get real very quickly, and I am prepared to genuinely and sincerely love the shit out of you depending on what we learn next about your backstory

oh my god?!?

so wait, hold up. am I reading this right?? basically the HPSC started murdering vigilantes because they were worried they were gaining too much of the public’s favor?? holy fucking shit???

oh my GOD oh my god

“it’s been a while since I scarred you all with the dead dog and the graphic slaughter of an entire innocent family, huh,” Horikoshi says thoughtfully. “anyway so what do you all think of my new creation, the Spaghetti Bullet.” well, Horikoshi, so you know that squished-up face that Kermit the Frog makes sometimes? yeah. that’s what I think, if you must know lol

holy hell the juxtaposition

I’m actually kind of surprised to learn she had a lot of fans? what with her M.O., I was expecting her to have been an underground hero like Aizawa, but apparently not? then again I still have absolutely no idea how any of that works. I really need to read Vigilantes already

oh snap

nothing like a sweet dose of assassin trauma to finally round out our BnHA Trauma Bingo!! well done guys, we finally collected all of the traumas! hooray!

noooo Ladyyyyyyy

holy shit what a fucking chapter. like, this man promised us an assassin, and went and fucking delivered. I was not expecting it to be this dark, lol, but holy shit I am here for it

you know, at some point you have to start questioning the logistics of this, though

I mean, how do I put this... her quirk isn’t exactly subtle. that murder scene from a few pages back looked like the first season of Dexter for fuck’s sake, that’s not exactly “disappearing” people now is it?? and I mean, her bullets are literally made from her own fucking hair; it seems like it would be impossible not to leave any evidence behind. did no one start to wonder who the fuck was going around murdering all these people? or did the people who asked too many questions wind up getting conveniently “disappeared” themselves??

and hey, speaking of asking too many questions

holy shit is he blackmailing her??!? or no, wait -- what the hell is he reaching for in his pocket boy you better not

(ETA: what exactly was this man expecting fdslkjd. “uh oh my unstoppable hair trigger assassin who is literally always armed is asking questions, better announce that I am going to shoot her and then reach into my pocket veeeeeery slowly while she stands there all of two feet away.” how did this guy ever function as the head of a shadow government with these decision-making skills, I’m genuinely baffled.)

OH MY GOD LADY YES

this. right here. is why “run the fuck away” was damn good solid fucking advice. oh shit. but my god did this dude have it coming

so wait lol has she just been narrating all of this out loud to Deku this entire time

okay but can we just stop for a moment and appreciate the fact that they’re having this deep conversation about the dark secrets of hero society right in the middle of their intense mid-air sniper free-for-all lol

holy shit you guys, Nagant’s the one that should have made the tell-all video. I mean, no offense to you, Dabi, I’m sure you worked very hard on your video and did a ton of crunches every day so that you would look good with your shirt off while you told the world all about how your dad was a jerk. but seriously...

this is already like 100x more convincing than what he put out. also, gasp, is it another flashback

yes it is oh my gosh

so the HPSC Chairladyperson whom ReDestro killed used to be this guy’s direct subordinate, huh? I wonder if she kept the whole assassin program going after she took over. can’t say I was feeling any particular kind of grieving way about her death before, but certainly not now lol

but unfortunately Nagant has finally lost me at the same place where all of the villains inevitably do, which is to say when they somehow make the dubious mental leap from “society sucks and is bad” to “let’s just be openly fucking evil lol, worth a shot.” because when heroes murder innocent people and cover it up, that’s obviously bad (and I mean, it absolutely fucking is lol, don’t get me wrong); but when villains murder innocent people straight up out in the open without giving a fuck, they’re righteous revolutionaries? just -- is there really no non-murdery middle ground here?? I guess that’s what Deku and co. are for, hopefully

anyways oh shit Deku seems to have spotted something?? and he’s doing something weird with Blackwhip what

oh, he spotted her, I guess

lmaooooo

new favorite Deku panel right here. a masterpiece

oh my god you guys our little boy is starting to grow up before our eyes

you love to see it. and you can tell with those elipses that he’s gearing up to say something really cool and determined and badass like the shounen protag he is, yes please, Deku ilu so much please do your thing

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

IS THAT A TEENY TINY LIL EYE SPARKLE THERE OMG. still not anywhere close to his usual standard, but that’s some clear resolve there in his eyes there at long last! it always shines the most clearly when he’s being true to himself and his ideals, so I love that it finally shows up again here, when he’s reaffirming his resolve to help others no matter what

uh oh so what’s Lady going to do now

is it time for a trump card?? kinda sounding like it’s time for a trump card

???

I lied btw, this is my new favorite Deku panel. but anyways what is she up to now lol

ohhhhhh, lol

why does she seem shocked, lol. here I thought this was part of her plan, but apparently she forgot all about ol’ “Look Ma, No Hands” back up there

and so I guess that’s it for this week! so we’ve learned basically everything now about Lady and her quirk and her history with the HPSC and why she agreed to work for AFO. pretty much the only question that still remains is why the hell she decided to drag this asshole along for the ride! because I still cannot figure that out dsklkjlkf

(ETA: actually now I’m kind of wondering if they maybe have some past connection we don’t know about yet. when exactly was Nagant sent to Tartarus? is it possible she was ordered to track down and kill Overhaul at some point before that, but never got around to it? or something else along those lines? idk but now I’m curious.)

anyways Deku, I know that your empathy has no bounds and that you’re on a “saving villains” kick right now, and good on you... but also, if you decide to just like, skip all of that shit just this once, absolutely no one will hold it against you, I’m just saying. just, all I’m asking here is maybe let’s think twice before we start trying to reform guys who imprison and torture little girls for profit. I think maybe that’s a good place to draw the line. next week is going to be a very interesting chapter lol

[wiypt-writes]

Guilty As Charged

Guilty As Charged: Bucky Barnes One Shot

Summary: Defence Attorney James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the absolute bane of your life…

Pairing: Lawyer AU Bucky Barnes x Reader (Frenemies!)

Warnings: Bad language words.

Word Count- Under 2k

A/N:  This was originally posted on my old blog ages ago, but I’ve just given it a little polish and thought, seeing as I’m on the Bucky Train at the moment, I’d bring it back. Also, my knowledge on US Criminal Law is sketchy at best, so humour me…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist // Main Masterlist

*******

In God We Trust, the words set about the Judge’s podium were fixed in your vision, motes of dust moving freely in the rays of sunlight which were streaming through the large, ornate windows of the court room and you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, concentrating on expelling the nerves you were feeling with the air that left your mouth and lungs.

No matter how many times you were in this position, the reading of the verdict still got to you. Your gaze turned to the jury, as the judge did the same, that all important question ringing across the room, the air stiflingly tense.

“On the charge of murder in the first degree, do you find the defendant or not guilty"

“Not guilty.”

Fuck.

Cheers from the defendants family drowned out your loud groan as you rubbed at your temple. Looking over at your colleague, Sam, you shook your head in utter disbelief.

The judge continued through the remaining charges, second-degree murder and voluntary manslaughter, and your despair grew as the same verdict was returned for each.

You’d lost. And it stung, not merely because of your near perfect conviction rate, but for the family of the victim you were one-hundred percent convinced the accused.

"Y/N this wasn't your fault.” Sam stated in a low voice but you simply sighed again and shrugged.

"I was sure they'd see through his lies,” you glanced over to your right where the defence team, headed up by James Buchanan Barnes of Barnes and Rogers Law firm were shaking hand with each other and their defendant. Barnes' face was arranged in the usual smug look that you always had the urge to slap right off it. His partner, Steve, glanced over at you and gave you a genuine, sympathetic smile.

He’s always the most courteous out of the two, the one you actually didn’t mind dealing with when it came to cases.

"He fucking did it Y/N," Sam's voice was almost a growl, "I know he did."

"Well in the eyes of the law he didn’t." You stated, standing up.

The commotion continued behind you, as the defendant was told he was free to go. Making sure to keep your head down, you hastily shuffled your papers back into their respective files and packed your briefcase up. Picking up your jacket, you shrugged it on, smoothing down pencil skirt before you head to leave the courtroom before Barnes can pipe up with his usual smart ass quips. But you're not quite fast enough. "Commiserations Miss Y/LN, can't win em all." The familiar Brooklyn drawl hit your ears.

"Buck," Steve sighed "c'mon pal..."

You grit your teeth. You know you shouldn't rise to it, but you just can’t help it. The man is an utter jack ass in the courtroom. Spinning to face him, you shot him your best contemptuous glare, the one you always reserve for those people you really cannot stand, and looked at him like he was something you'd just trodden in.

"You know Barnes, there is such a thing as being gracious in victory as well as defeat." "Defeat?” He asked, looking at Steve with a puzzled expression on his face, “no, not sure what that is." "Eat shit.” You mumbled before turning to Sam who was stood behind you, watching the exchange. You nod to him and the two of you continued up the aisle towards the exit. The victim's family were congregated outside and all at once the start barraging you with questions.

"How did that happen?"

"You said it was a cert he would go down!”

"What about a private prosecution?”

You sighed and turn to look at them, you were exhausted. "I'm sorry.” You shook your head. “That new evidence that his attorney submitted, it was just threw too much of a doubt into the juries mind..." you held your hand up to gently silence them. “If you're serious about a private prosecution then I can meet you next week to discuss and put you in touch with a few people but I’m sorry, as far as the State’s involvement goes…I can’t do anymore."

Escaping as quickly as you could, you and Sam headed back to your office. After a short meeting with your boss, the District Attorney, who was as pissed as you were that the prosecution had failed, you emerged feeling twice as tired and battered as you had when you’d left the courtroom.

As Sam stated, there was only one thing left you could do. Drink alcohol. A lot of alcohol.

It was a short walk to your preferred bar, having decided to abandon your car and collect it in the morning. You were going to get drunk. Really drunk. "Hey Y/N, hey Sam." Clint, the bar tender greeted you. “I hear it wasn't a great day.” You looked up and saw he was pointing to the TV behind the bar. It was on a news channel, focussing on a report from earlier that afternoon which wasn’t surprising. The case had thrown up huge public interest ever since the body of the teenage girl has been found in the alleyway in Queens. The defendant confessed but somehow, the new evidence submitted was an alleged recording that the defence had gotten their hands on as proof the confession was taken under duress. If you were being totally honest, you had to admit that it didn't sound great, the officer did seem to be leaning heavily on the defendant, but the other evidence was, no, IS overwhelming.

But all it needed was that little seed of doubt, which the defence sowed expertly, and the jury couldn't convict. And now, thanks to Barnes and Rogers, specifically Barnes, in your mind a dangerous killer was walking free. As you stared at the television, you saw Barnes on the screen with the defendant, all smiles and Steve at his side. Barnes greeted the press with a raised hand. "Clint turn it over man." Sam almost pleaded and Clint shot you both a sympathetic look, before he pointed the remote at and flicked the report over to a mundane, late afternoon game show. You ordered 2 beers, and then settled at the bar on one of the tall chairs, crossing your bare, heeled legs as you and Sam began to dissect the case. You couldn’t help it, you always did this, analyse where you went wrong or right.

The pair of you got that enthralled in your discussions, that before you know it, it was an hour lager and you're now four beers deep... and Sam was fielding an angry phone call from his wife, Natasha. "I gotta go, boss." He sighed, apologetically, “it’s my little girl’s dance recital at six and if I miss this one, Nat’s gonna hang me out to dry!” You waved his explanation off. “Its fine, Sam. Oh, and take the morning tomorrow. That case has had us working all hours and I don’t intend on being there till lunch. Clint, gimme a bourbon please?" "Don't let Barnes get to you.” Sam sighed. “You know what he is like" "Smug, arrogant and annoyingly self-righteous.” You nodded. “Yup, I got it.” Sam smiled and dropped a friendly kiss to your cheek. "See you later." Clint slid the glass of bourbon over to you and you smiled before pulling out your phone to check a few emails and your social media. You were just reading through an article about a Billionaire in Manhattan who had designed some kind of metal suit that allowed him to fly (because that's gonna end well), when a familiar voice broke your concentration. "Can I buy you a drink?" You rolled your eyes and looked up at Bucky Barnes as he leaned on the bar, still in his suit, although he had dispensed of his black and white tie, and opened his top button. This was another thing you hated about him. He is utterly gorgeous. Like GQ cover gorgeous, especially in his sharp suits and silk ties.

And he fucking knows it, too. "Depends." You shrugged, throwing back the remainder of your bourbon. "Does it come with a side helping of irritating smugness?" He chuckled. "I'm off duty, Doll so no."

"In that case I'll have another Monkey Shoulder." You slid the empty glass back to Clint. "Take it you're not driving home?" Barnes asked, his azure eyes running over your bare legs. "Well if I do and I get caught, I'm sure you can get me off any charges.” You replied sharply, shooting him a look that made it clear you caught him eyeing you up. And it isn't the first time either. That's another reason you clash so much in the courtroom. Sexual tension. Fucking jerk. He barked out a laugh "You're really not happy with me are you?" "Not particularly." You shook your head, thanking Clint as he pushed the now full glass back to you, with a small wink. It's a double, you noticed. That should set Barnes back a bit. Bucky reached for his beer and after a pull he looked directly at you. "Come work for me." He said and you groaned.

Not this again. "I'm a prosecutor." You rolled your eyes. "Not a defence attorney. I told you that last time you asked. And the time before, and the time before that." "I'm nothing if not persistent." He winked, turning in his stool so he was facing you. "Besides, I can teach you the ways of the dark side." "You’d love that wouldn't you?" You snort. "Oh, Sweetheart you have no idea." He leaned forward slightly, his elbow on the bar and this time he is blatantly staring at the flash of skin that was showing above the buttons on your blouse. "My face is up here, ass hole." With a smirk he raised his deep, blue eyes and they locked onto yours. Despite yourself, you feel your breath hitch slightly. Dammed him and his sex appeal. "Why are you always this insufferable?" You eventually tore your gaze away from his and picked up your drink, glancing up at the TV as an excuse not to look at him. "Ah come on Y/N, don’t be like that." He reached out to squeeze your hand which was resting on the back of the tall chair you were sat in. "We could make a great team..." You raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Professionally.” He added, his eyes not leaving yours as he took another large drink of his beer, and you pulled your hand away from under his. "I'd kill you within five minutes of us being in the same office." You glared at him as you took another sip from your drink. He chuckled and eyed you again, “to be fair I'm not sure Stevie would be able to function with a beautiful dame such as yourself in close proximity. He still flusters around any woman that isn’t his Peggy.” "That's because Steve is a happily married man." "So am I." He shot back. Ah yes, Mrs Barnes… "Your wife deserves a medal. She must have the patience of a fucking saint to put up with you." You said into your glass. "I have other hidden qualities which mean she's prepared to overlook my slightly less favourable personality traits." He quipped, and you looked back to see that lopsided grin on his face that flips your stomach. Behave Y/N. "They must be very hidden." You mused, and he let out another loud laugh.   "You're killing me, Doll.” "Good." You drained your glass. The liquid burnt your throat and you could feel the effects of the alcohol from the last few hours as your brain started to hum. You looked at Barnes who was watching you, his eyes shining with all the cheekiness of a teenage boy and you know you need to leave before you do something stupid.

Like snogging his dumb, handsome face off. "I think it's time I got going." You said simply, standing up. Barnes gave a nod, draining his bottle. “Yeah I should be making tracks too. Wife to see to, you know how it is.” You stood and he did the same, and you realised he was holding up your jacket, ready for you to slide your arms into. Narrowing your eyes slightly at his sudden chivalry, you couldn’t help the small smile that flickered across your face as you turned and allowed him to help you into it. His hands dropped to your shoulders and he span you round gently and smiled with those perfect teeth, a smile that lit up his beautiful face, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "Lead the way Mrs Barnes.” He instructed softly, dropping a tender kiss to your lips. "You know it's a good job I love you,” you smiled, sliding your arms up round his neck. "Yeah, I know." "Although right now I'm struggling to remember why." "Well, when we get home I'll just have to show you some of those hidden qualities I was talking about, see if they help jog your memory.” You bit your lip slightly at the dark flash of desire that flit across his eyes, and you leant up to brush your lips across his stubbled jawline. "Unanimous verdict,” your voice drops slightly as you pull back and he smirked again, “guilty as charged.” You tossed Clint a good bye, linked your hand into your husband’s and he walked you outside into the brisk wind, his arm pulling you close, his lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Yeah, James Buchanan Barnes might be an insufferable, arrogant ass hole in the courtroom, but outside it he's simply your Bucky.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

shelter me from winter’s bite

Everyone’s doing a hypothermia fic so I figured I may as well contribute. It’s one of my favorite tropes.

title taken from Brian Czyzyk’s poem “Hoarfrost” (he’s my favorite young queer poet and you should check him out).

tw: hypothermia, angst with a happy ending, whump with a happy ending

---

“Do you always have to be so damnably loud?” Geralt growls, glaring at Jaskier from across the small room. 

“My apologies for existing,” the bard snaps back. He’d only been rearranging his pack, looking for something reasonably clean to sleep in while his clothes were laundered by the innkeeper’s lovely wife. “I’ll try to do so more quietly from now on, good sir.”

Geralt huffs out a breath in passive-aggressive annoyance and Jaskier bristles. 

“Oh well, then. C’mon witcher, I know you want to say it!”

“Say what?” Geralt asks. His voice is low and threatening. He’s ready to play the game and by god he’s going to win this time.  

“It’s practically your motto at this point,” the bard hisses through his teeth, angry and bitter and tired. Geralt sees victory. Sees some peace and quiet on the horizon. “Say it!”

Geralt does as he’s told, like any good witcher would: “Fuck off, bard.”

“There it is!” Jaskier laughs joylessly, throwing up his hands. He pulls on his doublet and boots and heads for the door. “If you want me gone so badly, Geralt, then I will go. I’ll get out of your lovely white hair and leave you to mope in peace.”

“Fucking finally,” the witcher snarls, turning away. He doesn’t see the genuine hurt in Jaskier’s blue eyes as the bard quietly closes the door rather than slamming it. He doesn’t hear the quiet sob that rips its way out of Jaskier’s throat as he stands very still, shocked and suddenly exhausted all the way to his bones. He doesn’t smell the salt of his bard’s tears as he slips silently down the hallway and out into the late autumn night. He doesn’t notice the snow starting to pile up on the windowsill ahead of season.

He’s too busy being a self-flagellating moron to notice any of that.

---

Geralt is woken in the middle of the night by a commotion downstairs. He can hear several loud, panicked heartbeats and one very quiet, very slow heartbeat beneath all of those; it’s achingly familiar but the half-asleep witcher can’t quite call its source to mind. Geralt listens as the innkeeper barks out a series of sharp orders: “Meredith, you get to the kitchen and make some strong black tea! Florence, fetch a pail of warm water and two or three towels from the laundry. Josiah you lazy lout, get into the attic and fetch some blankets! The poor lad has gone blue all over!”

The witcher peers into the hallway and catches the skinny stable hand, Josiah, racing for the attic staircase. “What’s going on?”

“A farmer from the next town over was on his way over to help a friend’s sow give calf and he found-” the lad pauses to suck in a great gulp of air and launches off again “-and he found that friend of yours lying in a snowbank, muttering nonsense and shivering like a leaf. The poor fool didn’t have a cloak on him or anything, just a doublet and walking boots! He’s near-dead!”

Geralt curses and makes for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reaches the main floor. There are voices coming from the kitchen and he follows them as if in a dream, his feet moving without aid of his conscious mind. “Jaskier? Is it the bard, Jaskier?”

“Are you the great brute what kicked him out?” the innkeeper’s wife asks, crossing her arms over her ample chest and narrowing her eyes. Geralt falters. 

“No, he- he left on his own, in a huff.”

“Wonder who could have started the huff,” the woman rolls her eyes. This isn’t about his status as a witcher, Geralt knows; this eye roll was made by a woman who knows a lovers’ quarrel when she sees one. Except that this stupid little spat might have cost Jaskier his life.

“Where is he? May I see him, goodwife?”

The woman points to a table in the corner, which has been cleared of cooking implements and cushioned with a heavy bearskin. Jaskier lies atop the brown fur, his skin frighteningly pale, his lips and fingers tinted a slight blue. Geralt rushes to his side and takes one of the bard’s stiff hands in his own. He brushes a stray lock of brown hair from Jaskier’s forehead and nearly recoils in shock from the temperature of his skin. Even colder than his hands, which are already dangerously frigid. If Jaskier cannot play his lute-

Geralt doesn’t even allow himself to finish the thought. Instead he works on rubbing small, careful circles onto the back of the bard’s hands with his thumbs, warming the skin in tiny increments: “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

The bard remains unmoving, heartbeat fluttering weakly, lungs barely drawing breath; Geralt fights back an overwhelming sense of panic, trying to recall whatever training he’d received at Kaer Morhen concerning freezing humans. 

“Do you mind if I take him upstairs and tend to him myself?” the witcher asks.

“Can you take care of him?” the innkeeper’s wife replies. 

Geralt bows his head, shame licking like flames up and down his bent spine, and nods. “Yes, Ma’am. I have dry clothes for him in our room and I was trained extensively for emergency situations such as this, all witchers are.”

“Alright,” she narrows her eyes. “But he’d best be alive come morning.”

“I’ll happily turn myself over to the village elders to be dealt with accordingly should the bard come to any harm,” he vows. Her eyes widen minutely and he can read the surprise in her body language, but she remains relatively calm. 

“Any further harm, rather. Alright, then. I’ll have my husband and the girls bring those supplies up to your room for him. We’ll be glad to go back to sleep.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Geralt bows formally. She blushes despite her irritation with him and waves him away. 

“Take your bard and go, witcher, before I change my mind and spend all night caring for him myself out of motherly pity. Go.”

Geralt hefts Jaskier into his arms, heavy bearskin blanket and all, and hurries up the stairs to his room. He will not let Jaskier come to any further harm. Not by his hand. Not by his word. Never again. 

---

Back in their room, Geralt quickly undresses the shivering human, peeling away what few damp layers there are with growing disappointment. Jaskier hadn’t been prepared for a walk in the snow at all! Although, to be fair, it hadn’t seemed that cold earlier in the evening and the snow had been sudden and heavy. 

He wipes Jaskier down with a warm cloth and slips one of his own clean shirts over the bard’s head. He tries not to let his gaze linger on the way Jaskier’s shoulders don’t quite fill out the dark material. Or on the way his dark, wiry chest hair peeks out through the open laces at his throat. The witcher quickly shuffles him into clean smallclothes and wraps him in a thick wool blanket. 

They sit curled before the fire and Geralt holds Jaskier against his chest. He hums with his voice like gravel, grating out one note after the other in some attempt to soothe the bard’s aching body. Jaskier shivers and shakes violently in the witcher’s strong embrace, his eyes clenched shut with the cramps that wrack his frame as his muscles return to their normal temperature. Geralt feels like he’s holding a porcelain doll and keeps his grip deliberately loose, tight enough to comfort but not restrain.

“G-Geralt,” he groans. “Hold me, please.”

The witcher squeezes his arms more confidently around the bard’s middle, burying his face in Jaskier’s soft hair and breathing deeply. The warmth that usually emanates from his busy human body is gone and his chamomile-honey scent is buried beneath a layer of damp cold; it feels wrong. Terribly wrong. Geralt murmurs against his temple, begging the younger man’s forgiveness: “I’m so sorry, Jaskier. Gods, I’m so sorry. Will you ever be able to forgive me? I’m a fool, you know. I’m a fool witcher who never says anything important until it’s too late. I’m so incredibly sorry, my love.”

“This is a very good dream,” the bard sighs, smiling despite the pain. His eyes open, bleary and addled. “Like I was having in the woods, but better.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow and Jaskier seems to understand the unspoken question, even in his current sorry state.

“The real Geralt would never be so gentle with me, dear heart. You must be a dream, sent to me on my deathbed to ease my passage into the afterlife. There’s no other explanation for your sudden displays of tenderness.”

“It’s... It’s really me,” Geralt affirms. He runs his hand up and down the length of Jaskier’s spine, “I’m here, Jaskier. Can you ever forgive me for being so stupid?”

“I forgive you for being stupid ever other day, dear witcher. It is of no consequence to me.”

“It almost was,” Geralt frowns. “I nearly- I almost-” 

Jaskier’s arm raises weakly and his too-chilly hand presses to Geralt’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have stormed off like an idiot. I shouldn’t have kept picking the fight. We both fucked up, alright? What matters is our second chance. We got to have one, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

“Am I wearing your shirt?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Yours were all being laundered and this one was clean and it had been in my pack near the fire so it was already warm and-”

“Did you take care of me all night?”

“Hmm.” Geralt sighs after his hum and glances away for a moment. “What did you mean about... about the dream in the woods?”

“Oh. Well, when I was very cold and things were hazy and slow, I dreamed that you were there with me. Everything got very fuzzy and warm for a little bit, and when it was warm you were holding me like this and giving me little kisses. It was... nice. Even though I knew I was dying because you were being so soft, so considerate; saying things to me you’d never say out loud in real life.”

“I love you, Jaskier. I will try my best not to lose my temper needlessly,” the witcher swears. “You don’t deserve it.”

“Can we still cuddle like this?” Jaskier asks, leaning his weigth against Geralt’s firm chest. “It’s so nice to be held.”

“Of course. Anything you want. I’m not going to waste my second chance by treating you poorly. Not for another second, my beloved bard.”

“B-beloved?”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, well then I’m definitely still dreaming.”

Geralt lifts Jaskier into his arms and carries him over to the bed, which is piled high with their extra blankets. He tucks Jaskier into the nest against the wall and lays along the outside of the mattress. He presses his lips to the bard’s, reveling in Jaskier’s returning warmth, and smiles. “I’ll prove it’s not a dream. Every day.”

“Sounds nice,” Jaskier yawns, snuggling into the witcher’s arms and settling down to sleep. 

“It will be.”

[infinitecrime]

Just a quick statement in case anyone was wondering where I have been/will be. I've been taking, and will continue to take, a short Tumblr break until the SCU (Sebastian Cancellation Universe) wears itself out and goes on hiatus. I deleted Tumblr off my phone a few days ago and realised immediately that all this vicious, misinformed discourse pretty much solely exists on here and twitter, and if I want to avoid it, I can simply remove myself from the space.

I'm certainly not going to be gone forever - the head Canceller has made it quite clear that her sole intention was to "bully Sebastian off the internet", and presumably his fans too, while using POC and social issues as pawns/collateral damage. To quit the fandom feels like letting them win, but taking a break feels necessary at this point.

I like to listen to others who have different perspectives and value their opinions - but at the end of the day, I form my own and do my own research. And so far, I have seen absolutely nothing to change my opinion that Sebastian is a kind and well meaning man who sometimes doesn't think through every conceivable perspective before his does something - in other words, a flawed human. I'm not going to call for the end of a man's career and/or life, or withdraw my support of him, because 4 years ago he (accidentally, for all we know) liked a video of a man being called out for rapping the N-word and being told to censor himself, or because he smiled weird next to a statue while playing a Buddhist character. We can criticise him for his own actions, but these are willfully disingenuous interpretations specifically designed to harm not just him, but also POC fans who look up to him. I won't let myself be lied to, gaslighted, or dragged into a herd mentality. A disturbing number of people are not actually angry at him, but are simply scared of being harassed if they dare to question what they're being told or form their own opinions, so join the herd. The pursuit of the moral highground is addictive but futile, and you lose it as soon as you stoop to bullying, abuse, harassment, stalking and running dedicated, deranged hate accounts.

I'm not going to cancel him for a handful of bad jokes or mistakes made years ago that have been profusely apologised for and learnt from, either, and I'm not going to cancel him because of the years old actions of people he is associated with that he had nothing to do with. This isn't fair, proportional or helpful, at all. It's not activism, and it's not social justice - in fact, the constant malicious attempts to cancel him are only making it harder for him to see legitimate criticism or respond without setting a precedent that death threats will get his attention and a grovelling apology for things he didn't say and views he doesn't hold.

If your whole life was on tape and available to comb through with the worst intentions, and you weren't hiding behind anonymous accounts, I could construct equally terrible narratives from every bad joke, misspoken word, ill thought out comment, accidental like, dubious friend, mistake, genuinely hurtful moment or show of ignorance that you have ever made, but apologised for, grew from and forgot about instantly. You have that right: but you don't grant it to him, because he isn't truly a human being to you. So many of the blatantly and demonstrably false accusations I have been seeing would have been dispelled through the most basic level of fact checking and critical thinking, but through herd mentality and what I can only describe as moral bloodlust, they've gained serious, dangerous traction.

For someone who was raised in a deeply insular, conservative, traditional, orthodox environment, he has done a genuinely excellent job of freeing himself from that cycle of ignorance and using his platform in a positive way, as well as responding when he genuinely has misstepped. He will likely never be on the same level of educated/woke as a ~25 year old American who was literally raised knee deep in social justice twitter discourse, because he didn't have that privilege, but we are all on a journey and progress is not linear or with a clearly defined end.

The ironic thing is: the current state of the fandom is a direct result of how nice and willing to listen and learn Seb has been! The level to which he used to engage with fans and respond to criticism and feedback has created an expectation that he will ask how high whenever he is told to jump, and if he doesn't respond to every little thing, this means he doesn't care or hates us. His willingness to own up to mistakes, apologise and grow publically has created the strange idea that if he's not doing something publically, it's not happening, as if he only exists while we can see him, like social media peekaboo. His openness and willingness to act on criticism of those in his social and professional circles has led to the belief that we can demand he cut anyone we dislike out of his life immediately instead of helping and supporting them in making amends and learning, if only we can dig up some old dirt on them. It's entitled, parasocial nonsense. This is a total stranger who owes us nothing, is not actually accountable to us, does not have to ever respond to us or meet our demands, and has a complex and private inner life that we ultimately know nothing about.

I feel immensely sorry for the fans, especially POC, who have been wrongly led to believe that Seb hates or is discriminatory towards them on the basis of lies, hyperbole and some serious reaching. I feel deeply sorry for Seb's friends and family, who have been subject to an enormous amount of abuse and harassment (much of which has been racist, sexist, bodyshaming, xenophobic and cruel in nature - all in the name of social justice?) merely for being friends with him, and who recently had to see #RIPSebastianStan trending. Mostly, I feel immensely sorry for Sebastian, who has not been allowed the same basic rights everyone else in the world gets: the right to learn and grow, the right to forgiveness and freedom from harassment, and the right to be judged on things that *you* actually *did* rather than fictional narratives.

I cannot imagine the mental toll thousands of people calling for your death must take. I cannot imagine how it feels to have hate accounts dedicated to abusing you and critiquing your every move, and that of everyone you love. I cannot imagine the impact of obsessive doxxing, stalking and harassment. I cannot imagine all of this happening when you have been quite open about your mental health issues and serious struggles. There are truly only so many messages telling you to kill yourself that you can take, and I just hope he has people in his corner to remind him who he truly is and what he truly stands for.

[morgana-ren]

if you'd be so inclined my dear, what are your thoughts on how Tomura's character has developed over the series' timeline? -☼

So, I think Horikoshi did an excellent job at character development- especially considering that he's a villain (not the focal point of the series) and he really didn't have to do that. He easily could have kept Tomura an impudent little man-child, but he didn't, and I truly appreciate that.

So, in season one, we get his debut as USJ, and it became quickly apparent that he was... disorganized. Intelligent and dangerous, clearly, but not quite there yet. He essentially threw money at a pack of sell-sword villains, had a basic plan for how he wanted things to go, and relied on his Nomu to do the majority of his work for him. He didn't even consider variables and other things he couldn't have foreseen- he took Master at his word and just went for it.

He makes a multitude of mistakes during this attack, and it's part of why he fails so hard. Underestimates the kids simply because they're young, not factoring in that these are to be the nations top heroes. Even young, each one is sporting a power that puts them at the top of the class and above the rest of the nation. He basically goes "Fuck it, just scatter them and have these no-name villains kill them. No way that could go wrong." not considering that these children have been learning from the best of the best and are clearly already intelligent of their own accord.

He doesn't take into account that these heroes actually care for these kids and that feeling responsible for them works in their favor as opposed to being a detriment. They fight harder and take more abuse to keep them protected (Aizawa getting absolutely demolished but still persisting to defend the children even as he bleeds to death with a broken body.)

The intel wasn't wrong, per se, but he took it at face value, not even bothering to consider that All Might would push far past his limit to keep these kids safe. For someone as obsessed with felling All Might, he certainly didn't really know a thing about him. His genuine goodness and character would not allow him to fail when their lives were on the line. And then there's the matter of Midoriya, and while Tomura had no way of knowing that he's inherited All Might's power, he should have been able to account for wild cards like that from valiant children dedicated to heroism.

More under the cut because I’m just rambling.

I think this defeat humbles him. For most of his life, things have gone his way because of who is backing him and because he is extremely dangerous with a powerful quirk- this teaches him that raw strength and basic strategy won't be enough.

He watches Stain take the country by storm, and he can't understand it. Doesn't get what the big deal is- he believes he and Stain are mostly cut from the same cloth because of their penchant for violence and murdering heroes, totally blind to the convictions behind Stain's actions. He's incapable of thinking outside of his own view points, and it cripples him. These are his first few steps outside of his own comfort zone and where he begins to grow.

He's forced to consider not what he wants, but why. He resists this every step of the way, but ultimately realizes that paying off little bastard villains to work in his name isn't enough. He needs players under his command that will fight for more than money- and sell swords are loyal to nothing but that. He needs to find a conviction (even as he ends up stealing the mask of one and using it as a facade at first) that others can relate to and be passionate about.

So he does.

He steals Stain's ideology for his own and uses it to recruit some of his top members- even if he is a right little bastard about it at first. While he throws a tizzy fit because they aren't "perfect" (his standards are very high despite the fact that he's arguably not a very effective leader) but eventually ends up utilizing them regardless.

It's around here that he starts sharpening his instincts and learns what it is to be a true leader. He learns he cannot casually throw around his pawns because ultimately, he cannot win this war by himself. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' and while he isn't as enchanted with Stain's entire gimmick as his comrades are, he still wields it effectively.

He's still learning, however, as we learn when he takes Bakugo. Had he gone to the effort to get to know a single thing about him, he would have learned very quickly that trying to recruit him would come up completely pointless. He just saw untamed anger and unrestrained violence bordering on unhinged and thought "Ah yes, he's powerful and very much like me- he'll do nicely" and put together a whole plan to kidnap him. I think the vanguard's success in capturing him shows Tomura just how useful it is to have clever little birds under your command, and that sticks with him.

Losing his Master, like AFO says, forces him to become his own man. He loses the cushy abode he'd had for most of his life, loses many of the benefits afforded to him by being AFO's protege. He and his ragtag team of villains live in squalor, almost entirely destitute, and are forced to survive- but they stay loyal, and that means something to him. I think it’s around here where he actually begins to care about them. 

We see how he reacts to Magne’s death. I don’t think for one second he aided in destroying Overhaul simply because he was a threat. If that was the case, he would have stopped once he was arrested. He risks everything to get vengeance. Cuts his limbs off and renders him completely helpless as payment for what he did to Compress and to avenge Magne’s wrongful death. 

Over the course of everything, he’s become more patient, more cunning, more dangerous. He’s learning quickly from his mistakes, how to command his ranks in a respectful, effective way, and how to keep them safe. He learns their strengths and weaknesses, and while he’s still a bit thorny, it’s very apparent he does care for them. He’s on his own now, and knows he needs greater power, greater numbers to achieve his goals. He is ruthlessly ambitious, willing to endure ungodly amounts of pain to meet his ends. 

So now we have this season (which I haven’t actually watched, as I’m just waiting for disappointment because I fucking know Bones won’t do him justice) and he’s seeking out both Gigantomachia, a former ally, and the PLF. Both things that could be of great value to him. His leadership skills and ability to command will be put to the test, but so will his endurance, his willpower, and everything else. This is the beginning of him as a truly devastating threat. 

He’s growing into the villain I think he deserves to be. He’s facing down the very bones that comprise him and learning why he is the way he is. What his convictions really are and how far he’s willing to go to achieve his goals. HIs past, his life as he knows it, what needs to be done to put a pretty little ribbon on everything. He is, in a way, shedding like a snake- ridding himself of weaknesses, growing into his strengths, and evolving into a more capable predator. 

If you ask me, realistically, I think Shigaraki would actually win. When it’s all said and done, I think his arc is far more compelling than any of the heroes or their children. I think he has more drive, more wit, more raw power and more reasons to keep fighting. A lot of the kids, while cute and the main characters, are quite hollow. But over the course of all these seasons, we get to watch Tomura’s metamorphosis and his evolution into a purer, undiluted evil. He transforms into something truly sinister- a literal manifestation of all of the flaws and pitfalls of society and hero culture as it exists. He is undeniable proof of the toxicity and that the way things are cannot be allowed to stand, and the fact that so many people resonate with him and follow him loyally should be the ultimate clue-in. 

I think if the heroes weren’t blinded, they would look at Shigaraki and his league and consider it. Wonder if, just for a moment, there was something there that they should pay attention to. A cry that they should hear rather than be willing deaf to. But they don’t. 

Gran Torino is a prime example of this. So are all the other so called ‘heroes’. Calling him evil. Underestimating him. Considering him someone who just woke up one day and decided ‘I don’t like this so I’m going to kill a lot of people’. You’d think that they’d recognize that a drive like his does not come from nothing. If they sat down, shut the fuck up and listened for ten seconds, maybe they wouldn’t be dying by the dozens. 

I’m not saying that they should allow him to continue to trample the world and kill at will. But what I am saying is that part of how they’re fighting him and how they’re viewing this in terms of black and white and good versus evil is exactly the fucking problem, and it’s that kind of bullshit that birthed the villain we know as Tomura Shigaraki to begin with. 

[loserchildhotpants]

Another destiel prompt from Twitter; say they’re dancing together, still trying to hide their feelings for each other, and because of that, avoiding eye-contract, the best the can, to ensure that the other character doesn’t notice how attracted they are to them (from this prompt list)

“Did you just turn her down?” Dean asks incredulously; Sam is busy sipping champagne next to him, but his eyebrows convey that he would also like clarification on whatever social interaction it is that Cas just had.

They’re all dressed to the nines, stuck at a posh wedding service until they solve this rogue Cupid case; it’s a low-risk case, but a case is a case, and they’ve got it well in hand.

Dean’s not been this dressed up since Bela stuffed him in a monkey suit, and he’d wager the same applies to Sam, but this is certainly the first either of them have ever seen Cas in anything other than his cubicle-life uniform.

Cas’ suit is sharp, pressed, striking, and he’s wearing a cerulean blue tie that has everyone meeting eyes with him coming up short. Predictably, he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, so he mostly apologizes awkwardly for those he seems to startle and thanks the handsy old ladies that liken him to long dead husbands.

With two flutes of bubbly meant for Dean and himself, Cas crossed the great hall, seemed to be stopped by a gorgeous young woman with dark hair, in a low-cut dress and a very promising smirk, but whatever exchange happened left her dejected.

“She asked me to dance,” Castiel tells Dean, passing him his flute, “I regretfully informed her that I don’t know how.”

“You can’t manage a simple little box-step for that hot piece? She was practically drooling, lookin’ at you!”

“We’re on a case,” he says, as though it’s a valid excuse.

“Nuh-unh,” Dean answers, shaking his head and putting his drink down on a nearby table, “That’s - that was a travesty, what I just witnessed. Babes are fuckin’ wasted on you, Cas.”

“She’s a fully grown woman, Dean,” Castiel corrects him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he brings his glass to his lips, “Besides, I’d only be wasting her time. I cannot dance, and I’d not be amenable to having relations with her, so it’s better I -”

“Not amenable?” Dean chokes out disbelievingly, “Who the fuck are you holdin’ out for?! Angelina Jolie?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“It’s a shame you don’t know how to dance, though,” Sam interjects, seeing by the vein throbbing in his forehead that Dean is about to start shouting about beautiful women and Cas’ ineptitudes, “I could teach you, if you want.”

Castiel slants his mouth at Sam, and Sam smiles gently back at him, “I know it doesn’t sound like fun, but, honestly? It’s a good skill to have, and worst case scenario is that you brighten someone’s evening.”

Appealing to his kind nature is the right call; Cas can’t argue that point, so he puts his champagne down and walks up to Sam.

“Very well. Where do we begin?”

“Oh - we’ll probably wanna go somewhere more private, so we can move a little more freely.”

At Sam’s behest, Dean and Cas follow him across the great hall, out onto a spacious balcony, out of the way of most everyone. Double glass doors lead out to it, and flowers line stone railing; no moon is visible from where they are in the mansion, but the sky is bright with stars, and that’s light enough.

While Sam does a fine job of teaching Castiel, and Castiel is a very quick study, they struggle with their height difference while Dean tells them about their height difference, unhelpfully and repeatedly.

Eventually, Sam turns to Dean, and says, “you should step in, man.”

“What? I’m not short,” Dean pouts grumpily.

“No, but you’re at least shorter than me - it’ll make leading a little easier for him.”

Rolling his eyes as though he’s actually put out, Dean peels himself from the French window he’d been leaning on, and takes Sam’s place.

Even and paced, Castiel and Dean take a few turns around the balcony, and Sam is impressed, informing Castiel that it took him a full week of practice to stop tripping over his own feet.

“To be fair, you were still growing into them at the time” Dean jokes.

In a rare moment of familial levity between them, Sam laughs, and Dean smiles at him - all of that makes Cas smile too, and then Sam’s phone rings.

“Oh - it’s Natalie,” Sam lets them know, “She wants eyes on the dance floor for a minute - I’ll take care of it - Cas, you’re doing great, don’t stop practicing!”

To both Dean and Cas’ surprise and humor, Sam appears genuinely bereft to leave the lesson. They both seem inclined to respect Sam’s wishes, though, so they take another turn.

“You gotta stop glancing down,” Dean commands.

Flashing his eyes back up at Dean, Cas mutters, “it’s reflexive. I apologize.”

“Nah, it’s fine, man. You’ve got it,” Dean assures him, “Now that you know how to, you gonna ask that girl to dance?”

“Perhaps,” Cas tries to shrug, determinedly keeping his eyes up, “I feel certain she has moved on in her pursuits, but if I pass her again, I will offer a dance.”

“You know how?”

“Now, yes.”

“No, I mean do you know how to ask a girl to dance?”

“Is there a particular ritual involved?”

Exhaling a laugh, Dean brings them to a stop, and explains, “okay - I’m gonna show you how it’s done, alright? Then I’ll lead.”

“Understood,” Cas tells him with serious conviction, studious and militant.

Dean steps back and away, and they wait for the band’s dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight to end before proceeding.

As The Book of Love begins, the live orchestra swells from inside the hall, Dean bows just a little at the waist, with his right arm crossing his chest, but his head up, and he inquires politely, “Castiel, may I have this dance?”

Tilting his head curiously, Castiel needlessly replies, “yes, Dean, of course.”

Smiling his most winning smile, Dean straightens up, offers his hand, and nods approvingly when Castiel all but glides into step with him.

He keeps the tempo slow, but incorporates making circles, turning them ‘round and ‘round the stone and marble balcony, up and down it’s length; Cas follows him easily, trusting Dean’s direction, and always operating on a similar wavelength - Dean thinks that maybe they dance together well because they fight together well.

“This is nice, Dean,” Castiel remarks softly.

A dusting of rosiness rises up in Dean’s face; he pulls Cas a little closer to better obscure his face from scrutiny, clears his throat and makes some noncommittal noise that could be agreement or indifference.

“You’re the one who taught Sam to waltz,” Castiel surmises conversationally.

“Yeah,” Dean answers.

“How is it that you came to learn it?”

“Eh, you’d be surprised what you learn on the job,” Dean replies easily, pulling away enough to spin Cas, and then move close in again.

“... you just spun me.”

“Yeah, I was there,” Dean jokes, smirking proudly down at Cas; “Don’t worry, when you get to be a seasoned pro like me, you can snazzy up your waltz too. Maybe next you can learn to salsa or tango.”

In a moment of silence between them, Dean follows Cas’ eyes to their clasped hands; Dean’s not sure what Cas is seeing, but whatever it is, it’s making Dean nervous.

“See now what that lovely lady wanted? Feel bad yet?” Dean prompts.

Castiel’s electric eyes refocus on him, startling him with their intensity just as they had the wedding guests that were strangers to Cas, “I do understand now. However, perhaps it’s the soldier in me, but I find I much prefer following than leading.”

“Ah, that’s just ‘cause I’m a great lead,” Dean teases playfully.

“Yes, you are,” Castiel reinforces, eyes flickering between Dean’s, “You do know I would follow your lead anywhere, don’t you?”

“Christ, Cas,” Dean swears, trying to politely move his too-warm face out of view.

“Really, Dean,” Castiel adds, squeezing Dean’s hand where they’re clasped; when that doesn’t work immediately, he takes advantage of a circling turn to near their faces - their noses almost bump, and Dean has no choice but to look into Castiel’s eyes, “I want you to know. You do know, don’t you?”

Swallowing roughly, feeling possibly feverish, Dean down, then away, “... you gotta stop saying shit like that, Cas.”

“Why?” he wonders, “It’s only the truth.”

Clearing his throat again - a nervous tic he didn’t realize he had until right then - he mumbles back, “yeah, well… I talk big, but I’m flyin’ blind, so maybe don’t follow me everywhere.”

“I’m a soldier, Dean. A Commander, actually. When I delivered you to the convent where Sam and Ruby were against the wishes of Heaven, I chose you. I pledged my allegiance to an Earthly King over an absent God, and I knew what I was doing when I did,” their steps slow down as Dean takes that in, “All I knew was that… I had faith in you.”

At that, Dean stops moving altogether, his hand slides down from Cas’ shoulder blade to the cinch of his waist, and he allows their joined hands to wilt a bit lower, but he doesn’t let go.

It seems then that Cas is the one having trouble keeping Dean’s gaze.

He looks to some faraway place over Dean’s shoulder, and rasps, “I still do. So, yes, Dean. I will follow you everywhere you lead, for however long you allow me to. I don’t mind flying blind if I’m flying with you.”

“Cas…”

With difficulty, Castiel looks back into Dean’s eyes, and Dean feels his heart thud in his ears. He wonders to himself if Cas can hear it, or feel it, but all Cas does is stare intently back at him, maybe waiting for Dean to confirm or deny something.

“Guys!”

Dean practically jumps away from Cas, frightened as if he’s been caught doing something untoward, but Cas is unbothered.

“I think I found our guy,” Sam announces, none the wiser, “And I think he brought a friend.”

“Yeah,” Dean affirms gruffly, “Got it.”

Sam turns back around first, through the glass doors, back into the busy hall, and Dean starts after him, a hand already twitching toward his holster, sparing Cas a look from over his shoulder.

The Angel is standing there alone, unmistakably ethereal with a backdrop of twinkling stars and lazy fireflies illuminating him; he’s examining his hand as though Dean may have left a mark or a message on him somehow.

“You comin’, Swayze?”

Cas’ eyes snap to attention again, and his forehead wrinkles, “... I don’t understand that reference,” but he follows after Dean anyway.

He doesn’t seem to notice how Dean clenches and unclenches his corresponding hand, but Dean wouldn’t be able to explain it if he did.