#if I was looking for a better work life balance this year this ain’t it 🙈

[thatsouthernstate]

January 20, 2023

Her hair is Harlow gold

Her lips sweet surprise

Her hands are never cold

She's got Bette Davis eyes

She'll turn her music on you

You won't have to think twice

She's pure as New York snow

She got Bette Davis eyes

And she'll tease you

She'll unease you

All the better just to please you

She's precocious and she knows just

What it takes to make a pro blush

She got Greta Garbo stand off sighs

She's got Bette Davis eyes

She'll let you take her home

It whets her appetite

She'll lay you on her throne

She got Bette Davis eyes

She'll take a tumble on you

Roll you like you were dice

Until you come up blue

She's got Bette Davis eyes

She'll expose you

When she snows you

Off your feet with the crumbs she throws you

She's ferocious and she knows just

What it takes to make a pro blush

All the boys think she's a spy

She's got Bette Davis eyes

And she'll tease you

She'll unease you

All the better just to please you

She's precocious and she knows just

What it takes to make a pro blush

All the boys think she's a spy

She's got Bette Davis eyes

She'll tease you

She'll unease you

Just to please ya

She's got Bette Davis eyes

She'll expose you

When she snows you

She knows ya

She's got Bette Davis eyes

[shybluebirdninja]

Claws of the Heart

Summary: In a world where mutants are nearly extinct, James Logan Howlett, better known as Wolverine, has lived a long and tortured life. Now in his 200s, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, he unexpectedly finds a glimmer of light in the form of a young woman in her 30s who lives next door. Their connection is undeniable, but when a man her age starts vying for her attention, Logan's primal instincts kick in. Fueled by jealousy, he does everything he can to win her heart, even if it means battling the demons of his past.

Pairing: Oldman!James Logan Howlett x Neighbor!Fem-human reader Genre: Fluff, Angst

Logan’s boots scuffed against the gravel as he walked down the dusty road toward the small, secluded town he’d been hiding out in for the last few months. His joints ached more than usual—just another reminder that he was no longer the young, invincible Wolverine. Time had done a number on him, but he wasn’t dead yet.

He glanced up at the sound of laughter drifting from the open window of the house next door. He knew that laugh—soft, light, and it stirred something in him he hadn’t felt in years. A pang of something unfamiliar—hope, maybe? But he’d learned long ago that hope was a dangerous thing.

His gaze landed on you, the woman who’d moved in next door about six months back. You were in your early thirties, full of life, and every time you smiled at him, it knocked him off balance. Not that he’d let you know it.

He grunted to himself as he watched you chat with the guy from two houses down—Tom, or Tim, something like that. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the way he leaned in too close, how you laughed at whatever lame joke he was telling. Logan’s grip tightened on the grocery bag he was carrying. His claws itched to come out, but he pushed down the urge.

Instead, he turned and walked back to his cabin. He wasn’t going to be some lovesick puppy pining over a woman. But damn, it was hard to ignore the jealousy that flared in his chest every time he saw you with that guy.

He tossed the groceries on the counter and opened a beer, taking a long swig as he leaned against the counter, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him. You were just a woman, just a neighbor—no reason to get worked up. He tried to convince himself of that, but deep down, he knew it was a lie.

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Later that evening, Logan found himself sitting on his porch, the sunset casting long shadows across the yard. He heard your door creak open, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw you step outside, your gaze landing on him.

“Hey, Logan,” you called out, that sweet smile on your lips as you walked over.

“Evenin’,” Logan replied, trying to sound casual, but his heart was thudding in his chest like he’d just been in a fight.

“Whatcha doin’ out here all alone?” you asked, leaning against the porch railing, too close and not close enough at the same time.

Logan shrugged. “Just enjoyin’ the quiet.”

You smiled and sat down next to him, your leg brushing against his. He stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away. Instead, he took another swig of his beer, trying to focus on anything other than how close you were.

“So, you never really talk about yourself, Logan. What’s your story?” you asked, turning to face him.

Logan glanced at you, those big, curious eyes of yours looking right through him. He grunted, not sure how to respond. “Ain’t much to tell,” he muttered.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I don’t believe that for a second. Everyone’s got a story.”

“Not mine,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. But you didn’t flinch, just kept looking at him with that soft, patient expression that made him feel like he could actually tell you—if he wasn’t so damn scared of what you’d think.

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The next few weeks were torture for Logan. Every time he saw you with that guy, the jealousy gnawed at him like a dog with a bone. He started finding excuses to be outside more often, hoping to catch you alone, to steal just a few moments where it was just the two of you. But it seemed like every time he was about to make his move, there was that damn neighbor again, laughing with you, making you smile.

Logan’s patience snapped one afternoon when he saw you sitting on your porch, and that guy—Ted or whatever—leaned in to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. Logan was across the yard before he realized what he was doing.

“Hey,” he barked, his voice rougher than usual.

You and the guy looked up, surprised. Logan felt a grim satisfaction when he saw a flash of discomfort in the guy’s eyes.

“Logan, what’s up?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, that concerned expression making his heart squeeze.

“Just thought you might wanna come check out somethin’ I’m workin’ on,” Logan said, forcing his voice to sound casual, though the tension in his muscles betrayed him.

You glanced between the two men, then smiled. “Sure, Logan. I’ll be right there.”

The guy opened his mouth to protest, but Logan shot him a look that could’ve cut steel. Without another word, the guy mumbled something about needing to go and quickly made his exit.

Logan turned back to you, his heart still pounding, but he played it cool. “Sorry ’bout that. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You chuckled. “It’s fine, Logan. Ted was just leaving anyway.”

“Yeah, Ted. Good riddance,” Logan muttered under his breath, feeling a surge of triumph that he’d gotten rid of the guy, at least for now.

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As the days went by, Logan found himself spending more and more time with you. He showed you how to fix things around the house, taught you how to defend yourself—just in case, he said, though he’d be damned if he ever let anything happen to you. And slowly, bit by bit, he started opening up, sharing bits of his past, letting you see the man behind the claws.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you were sitting on the porch steps, Logan beside you. You had just finished telling him about your day, and there was a comfortable silence between you two.

“You know,” you began, glancing over at him, “I’ve never met anyone like you, Logan.”

He grunted in response, not sure what to say. Compliments weren’t something he was used to.

“I mean it,” you continued, turning to face him fully. “You’re… different. In a good way.”

Logan felt his chest tighten, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he could trust his voice. “You ain’t so bad yourself, kid,” he finally said, the words coming out softer than he intended.

You laughed, the sound sending warmth through him. “I’m not a kid, you know. I’m thirty-four.”

“Still a kid to me,” Logan said with a smirk, but there was no bite to his words.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade. “And here I was thinking you might actually ask me out sometime.”

Logan blinked, caught off guard. “You want that?”

“Maybe I do,” you said, leaning in closer, your face inches from his.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. He’d faced down some of the most dangerous foes in the world, but the thought of leaning in, of kissing you right here and now, terrified him in a way he hadn’t felt in years. But it also felt right. So he took the plunge.

He leaned in, closing the distance, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, but as you responded, it deepened, becoming something more. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, and Logan could barely believe what had just happened.

“I… uh,” Logan started, but you cut him off with another kiss, and this time, he didn’t hold back.

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After that night, Logan and you were inseparable. But Ted wasn’t done. He kept showing up, trying to win your attention back, and each time, Logan’s jealousy flared hotter. He wasn’t used to fighting for someone like this—most of the time, people just got out of his way. But you were worth it.

One day, Logan found Ted waiting by your front door, holding a bouquet of flowers. Logan’s jaw clenched as he approached, his boots heavy on the gravel. The sight of Ted standing there, grinning like an idiot, made his blood boil.

"Hey, man," Ted greeted, acting casual, like he wasn’t trying to worm his way into your life.

Logan stopped a few feet away, his eyes narrowing. "What’re you doin’ here?"

Ted shrugged, holding up the flowers. "Just thought I’d surprise her. She’s been working hard, figured she could use a little pick-me-up."

Logan felt his claws itching to pop out, but he kept them in check. He wasn’t going to lose his cool—not in front of you, not over some wannabe Romeo.

“She don’t need your flowers,” Logan growled, taking a step closer. “She’s got all the pick-me-ups she needs.”

Ted laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it. "Come on, Logan. You’re a good guy and all, but she’s not yours. You can’t just scare off every guy who shows interest."

Logan’s eyes flashed with something dark, a reminder that he wasn’t just some regular guy. "You’d be smart to back off, Ted. This ain’t a game."

Before Ted could respond, your front door opened, and you stepped out, your eyes widening when you saw the two men facing off. "Logan? Ted? What’s going on?"

Logan forced himself to relax, stepping back to give you space. "Just havin’ a chat with Ted here."

Ted quickly handed you the flowers, a sheepish grin on his face. "Hey, I just wanted to bring these by. Thought they might brighten your day."

You smiled politely, taking the flowers, but your eyes darted to Logan, who was still standing there, tense as a coiled spring. "Thanks, Ted. That’s sweet of you."

Ted beamed, but his smile faltered when he saw the way you looked at Logan. "Well, I should get going. I’ll see you around."

You nodded, and as Ted walked away, you turned to Logan, who was still glaring after him. "Logan, what was that about?"

Logan grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Nothin’. Just don’t like the way he’s always hangin’ around."

You sighed, stepping closer to him, and placing a hand on his arm. "Logan, you don’t have to worry about Ted. I’m not interested in him like that."

Logan’s eyes softened slightly as he looked at you, the tension in his shoulders easing. "You sure about that? ‘Cause it looks like he’s gonna keep tryin’."

You smiled, squeezing his arm. "I’m sure. You’re the one I want to be with."

Logan’s heart skipped a beat at your words. He wasn’t used to this—this feeling of being wanted, of being chosen. It was new and terrifying, but he couldn’t deny that it made him feel something he hadn’t in a long time.

He nodded, his voice gruff but sincere. "I’ll keep that in mind."

You leaned in, kissing him softly on the cheek, and Logan felt his resolve strengthen. He wasn’t going to let some punk like Ted get between you two. He’d fight for you, tooth and claw, if he had to.

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As the weeks passed, the tension between Logan and Ted simmered just below the surface. Ted still tried to worm his way into your life, showing up at odd hours, bringing little gifts, and always flashing that charming smile. But every time, Logan was there, watching, waiting, his jealousy growing stronger by the day.

You could sense the turmoil in Logan, even if he tried to hide it. He was rough around the edges, but you knew there was more to him than the gruff exterior he showed the world. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you—it was all so careful, so deliberate, like he was afraid you might disappear if he wasn’t careful.

One evening, as a summer storm raged outside, you found Logan sitting on your porch, his eyes lost in the rain. You stepped outside, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders, and sat down beside him.

"Babe," you said softly, placing a hand on his knee. "What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?"

Logan didn’t look at you right away. He stared out into the storm, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. "Just thinkin’," he finally muttered, his voice barely audible over the rain.

"About Ted?" you asked, knowing the answer.

Logan grunted in response, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "’Bout a lot of things."

You moved closer, resting your head on his shoulder. "Talk to me, babe. I can’t help if you keep everything bottled up."

Logan sighed, his rough exterior cracking just a bit. "I don’t like him hangin’ around you, okay? Every time I see him, it’s like this… this beast inside me just wants to tear him apart."

You blinked, surprised by the raw honesty in his words. "Logan…"

He turned to look at you, his eyes dark and intense. "I’ve done a lotta things in my life I ain’t proud of. Seen things, lost people… I don’t want to lose you, too. But every time I see you with him, it’s like… I dunno, like I’m gonna lose somethin’ important. And it scares the hell outta me."

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his stubbled cheeks. "You’re not gonna lose me, babe. I’m here, and I’m not goin’ anywhere. But you gotta trust me, okay? Trust that I know what I want."

Logan swallowed hard, nodding slightly. "I trust you, darlin’. It’s me I don’t trust."

You smiled softly, leaning in to kiss him, and Logan melted into the touch, the storm outside forgotten as he wrapped his arms around you. For the first time in years, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

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The next day, Logan was out back, chopping wood to burn off some of the restless energy that had been plaguing him. The sound of the axe hitting the wood was rhythmic, almost meditative, but his thoughts were anything but calm.

Ted showed up again, this time strolling right into Logan’s yard like he owned the place. Logan didn’t stop what he was doing, but he didn’t have to—Ted came right up to him, hands shoved in his pockets, a cocky smirk on his face.

"Hey, Logan," Ted said, his tone too casual for Logan’s liking. "We need to talk."

Logan paused mid-swing, the axe hovering in the air. "’Bout what?"

"About her," Ted replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Look, man, I get it. You’ve got this whole rough, mysterious vibe going on, but let’s be real—how long do you think you can keep her interested? She’s young, full of life. You… well, you’re not exactly a spring chicken, are you?"

Logan’s grip tightened on the axe handle, his knuckles turning white. He lowered the axe slowly, turning to face Ted fully. "You tryin’ to start somethin’, kid?"

Ted held up his hands in mock surrender. "Not at all. I’m just sayin’, maybe it’s time you stepped aside. Let her have a shot at something real, something that’s not tied down by… whatever you got goin’ on."

Logan’s claws itched to come out, but he held them back, forcing himself to stay calm. "You don’t know a damn thing about me, or what she wants."

"Maybe not," Ted admitted, his smirk widening. "But I know what I see. And what I see is a man who’s past his prime, holding onto something he can’t keep."

Logan took a step forward, his eyes darkening with barely controlled rage. "You keep pushin’, and you’ll see just how much fight I got left in me."

Ted’s smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. "Look, I’m not here to fight. I’m here to give you a choice—step aside, or I’ll make sure you regret not doing it."

Logan’s lips curled into a snarl, his claws itching to break free, but he knew better. As much as he wanted to tear Ted apart, he knew that wasn’t the answer. Instead, he took a deep breath, forcing the rage back down. "You ever come near her again, I won’t be responsible for what happens next."

Ted’s eyes flashed with something—fear, maybe—but he quickly masked it with a cocky grin. "We’ll see about that, old man."

With that, Ted turned and walked away, leaving Logan standing there, his heart pounding with anger and frustration. He knew he had to do something, but the question was, how far was he willing to go to keep you safe?

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That evening, Logan found you sitting on your porch, the soft glow of the setting sun casting a warm light over your face. You smiled when you saw him, but your smile faltered slightly when you noticed the tension in his eyes. Logan sat down beside you, his usual stoic expression replaced by something deeper, more troubled. You could tell he had something on his mind.

"Babe," you began softly, reaching for his hand. "What’s wrong? You’ve been distant all day."

Logan took a deep breath, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. He wasn’t sure how to start, but he knew he couldn’t keep this from you any longer. "Ted came by earlier," he said, his voice low.

You frowned, concern knitting your brows together. "What did he want?"

Logan’s jaw tightened as he recalled the conversation. "He thinks I should step aside. That I’m not what you need."

You blinked in surprise, not expecting that. "Step aside? Babe, that’s ridiculous. What did you say?"

Logan looked away, staring out at the horizon. "I told him to back off. But… part of me wonders if he’s right."

You were taken aback by his words. "Babe, how can you even think that? You’re everything I need. You’re strong, caring, and… you make me feel safe."

Logan shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping him. "Safe, huh? I’m anything but safe. I got a past full of blood and regret. I’m not the kind of guy who’s good for someone like you."

You squeezed his hand tighter, not willing to let him pull away. "I don’t care about your past, Logan. I care about who you are now, and who you are to me. Ted doesn’t know you—he doesn’t know us. And I’m not going to let him or anyone else decide what’s right for me."

Logan turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. But all he saw was the sincerity in your gaze, the unwavering belief that he was worth fighting for. It stirred something deep within him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time—hope.

"But what if he’s right?" Logan asked, his voice barely a whisper. "What if I’m just foolin’ myself, thinking I can have somethin’ good without it all fallin’ apart?"

You leaned in closer, your other hand coming up to cradle his face. "Logan, life isn’t about being perfect or having all the answers. It’s about making choices, and I’ve chosen you. I want to be with you, and I’m not afraid of what that means. We’ll figure it out together, no matter what."

Logan’s breath hitched as he felt the weight of your words. It wasn’t just about Ted, or his past, or the fears that haunted him. It was about trust—trusting you, trusting himself, and trusting that maybe, just maybe, he could have something good for once in his life.

He nodded slowly, his eyes softening as he leaned his forehead against yours. "I don’t deserve you, but I’m not gonna let you go."

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Good. Because I’m not going anywhere."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in twilight, Logan felt a sense of peace wash over him. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t just surviving—he was living.

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The next day, you decided it was time to put an end to Ted’s advances once and for all. You couldn’t let him continue to disrupt the peace you and Logan had fought so hard to build. You called Ted, asking him to meet you at a local café, a public place where you could have a conversation without the threat of things getting out of hand.

Ted arrived, all smiles, clearly thinking that you’d finally come to your senses. But when he saw the serious expression on your face, his grin faltered.

“Hey,” he greeted, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

You didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “Ted, we need to talk about this… whatever this is.”

Ted sat down across from you, his expression growing more serious. “Okay, I’m listening.”

You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. “I appreciate the attention, I do. But this has to stop. I’m with Logan, and that’s not going to change.”

Ted’s eyes darkened slightly, but he kept his tone light. “You don’t have to be. You deserve better, someone who can give you a normal life. Logan… he’s dangerous.”

You shook your head, not letting his words shake you. “Logan isn’t dangerous to me. He’s been through a lot, but that doesn’t change who he is—who he is to me. I care about him, Ted. This isn’t something you can just talk me out of.”

Ted leaned forward, a desperate edge creeping into his voice. “But why him? You could have anyone, someone who can give you a future, a family…”

You sighed, feeling a pang of pity for Ted. He didn’t understand—he couldn’t. “Ted, you’re a good guy, but you’re not the one I want. I’m sorry if that hurts, but it’s the truth.”

Ted’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. “So that’s it? You’re just going to throw away a chance at something real for a guy like him?”

You stood up, your decision firm. “I’ve already got something real, Ted. And I’m not going to throw it away.”

Ted watched as you turned to leave, a storm of emotions playing across his face. But you didn’t look back. You had made your choice, and there was no room for doubt.

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When you returned home, Logan was waiting for you, a mix of anxiety and hope in his eyes. “How’d it go?”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him. “It’s over. I told him I’m with you, and that’s not going to change.”

Logan exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief flooding through him. “You sure he got the message?”

You nodded, resting your head against his chest. “Yeah, I’m sure. He won’t bother us again.”

Logan’s arms tightened around you, holding you close. “Thank you, darlin’. For choosing me.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I didn’t just choose you, Logan. I chose us. And I’m not letting go.”

Logan leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow, tender, and full of all the things he couldn’t put into words. In that moment, all the doubts, the fears, the what-ifs—they all melted away, leaving only the two of you and the life you were building together.

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Years passed, and the love between you and Logan only grew stronger. You faced challenges together, fought battles side by side, and through it all, you never wavered in your commitment to one another. Logan learned to let go of the guilt and pain that had haunted him for so long, finding peace in the life you shared.

And as you sat together on your porch, watching the sunset, you knew that this was where you were meant to be. With Logan by your side, you felt complete, knowing that no matter what the future held, you would face it together.

Because in the end, love wasn’t about finding someone who was perfect. It was about finding someone who made you feel like you were worth fighting for—someone who made you feel alive. And that was exactly what you had found in Logan. You leaned into Logan’s embrace, feeling his warmth surround you. And in that moment, you knew that you had found a love that would endure, a love that would last a lifetime.

[punkpandapatrixk]

🧝🏻‍♀️Camera Ready ☆ Timeless Tarot Guidance

Elements/Signs in this reading are calibrated to all aenergetic placements. Feel free to read as many Elements/Signs as you feel called to at this point in your spiritual evolution♡

♦︎Mystical Glow-Up Secrets PAC♦︎

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Title of this Tarot Guidance is a bit misleading, gals LOL This isn’t a reading for helping you become more photogenic—I ain’t got that kinda knowledge XD It’s not about helping you know better how to pose in front of the camera but we’re going to look into the aenergy of your glow-up chances within the year of your finding this~😊

So many of us within this collective have been hard at work bettering our mindsets and healing from past traumas. Starting 2024, the Universal Mandate will have us all reap the benefits of our dedicated spiritual work. So much that’s been taken away is going to return more gloriously. So much that’s been derailed is going to align and make sense again. So much material blessing that’s been withheld from you is going to pour in fast like the wine barrel has exploded LOL

Whatever year you’re reading this, you’re gaining—or regaining—vitality and glow and physical beauty is yours to take by Divine Order. If you resonate, trust that this process is gonna happen very organically and pleasantly—like it’s divinely ordained—whether or not your glow-up involves some ‘work’, you know what I mean?✂️🩹🩺

How ever you’re glowing up, it won’t have you feeling like you have to sacrifice a lot of anything. It’s because your glow-up is a cosmic reward! Everybody’s physical health is also gonna transform majorly, especially if you’ve been feeling poisoned by the terrible food, water or air in your city/country. All in all, your Quality of Life is gonna have a major glow-up and this will have a direct impact on both your physical and mental health😉

You’re gonna shine from the inside and be always Camera Ready! \`★_★`/

‘Front cameras are so scary. The way they make you look ugly. I'm not Keira Knightley, but I know for sure the mirror says I'm not ugly.’ – my mindset LOL

deck-bottom: XXI The World, Gold Magus (Johannes Faustus), Priestess of Rebirth

[PAG Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

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Camera Ready for 🐞Fire Signs – Silver Astronomer (Galileo Galilei)

Knight of Cups, Ace of Pentacles Rx, Page of Cups

Fire Signs have been hard at work at bettering their mentality and spirituality, right? Like I’m seeing you’ve learnt a great deal to temper your fiery emotions and how those affect your perception of where you stand vs your environment, as well as the people surrounding you. You’ve learnt to temper a lot of your anger that was often the result of being disappointed in people—and unfair situations. A quote that suits you the most right now is: ‘They will never know the violence it took to be this gentle.’

By now, I’m sure you’ve begun to feel a lot lighter. Like, you’ve become so sure that quite nothing can irk you the way you were easily irritated before. I’m seeing that your focus right now is in bettering your physical health and how you ‘rest your face’. Many of you have been under so much stress that either you’ve developed a permanent frown or you’ve gained or lost a lot of weight due to erratic eating behaviour caused by said stress.

You’re now either losing some extra weight or gaining strength and vitality again because you’ve become clear as to how deserving you are to feel good in your own existence no matter what you do. So yes, this goes beyond just ‘feeling good in your body’; you’re really focusing on having a pleasant existence with whatever you’ve chosen to do with your Life. And right now, your focus is in your health, your work-life balance (especially resonant if you have your own business or make your own schedule), as well as the kinds of nutrition that you consume on a regular basis.

Rest assured that none of these efforts will go to waste. You’re literally on the right trajectory towards a massive glow-up that’s super deserved!! You will see within the next couple of months (whenever you’re seeing this) that your face looks cheerier, there’s more colour there and that physical exercises and breathing itself become more easy to do~ I’m also seeing the way you walk will get more charismatic and enchanting ^_☆~

Oracle Guidance for Fire Signs🔻❤️

🐏Aries – Priestess of Luck

🦁Leo – Priestess of Contemplation

🎠Sagittarius – Priestess of Shine

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Camera Ready for 🐍Earth Signs – Silver Magus (Merlin)

9 of Pentacles, II The High Priestess, 4 of Pentacles Rx

Wow, I’m really seeing glamour and charisma for you, Earth Signs. There’s this sense that you’ve gained a lot of confidence through the cultivation of inner strength. It’s something to do with your mindset. I don’t know what kinds of things had caused you to struggle with insecurity before, but you’ve triumphed over most of those self-doubting voices. You’ve found your footing in the world and you no longer think that there’s so much wrong in your personality or your life choices.

This was not an easy feat to achieve all by yourself. For the most part, you were completely all alone in your head; battling all kinds of demons and negative self-image; learning to distinguish between the voices of your Guides and Ancestors guiding you from the voices of your haters installed in your brain since childhood. For many of you, the ‘haters’ were literally ‘family’ members. Little bitches who didn’t want to see you succeed because your achievements and happiness would be a direct insult to their failure as a human being.

You’re done, babe. You’re not giving Life to those opinions anymore. You’re not giving attention to those seeds of failure they wished would grow in you. You know your worth and it doesn’t matter if none of them understands your path. You live for yourself now, maybe your pet fish, and you know you’re always gonna have your Ancestors to back you up. And one day, when all’s said and done, you’re going to be surrounded by Soulmates who are gonna love and admire all that you’ve done to follow your heart.

You now hold all of the power in the world to create your own ideal Life. Up until now your opposition had had power only because you gave it attention. Without your attention, without your guilt and shame, they have ZERO power to stop you! Now stand tall and stomp forward!~★

Oracle Guidance for Earth Signs🔻💚

🐂Taurus – Priestess of Purity

🧘🏻‍♀️Virgo – Priestess of Ambition

🐐Capricorn – Priestess of Strength

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Camera Ready for ⛲Air Signs – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

8 of Wands, 4 of Cups Rx, 7 of Wands Rx

Gosh, communication and bridge-building are very strong in your aenergy, Air Signs. I know this reading is supposed to talk about your personal glow-up but I’m really getting this aenergy like you’re about to build bridges with other nations and brainstorm the living shit out of your brains and make the world a better place and then everybody becomes pretty? \`★_★`/

So, the kinda glow-up that you’re meant to go through this year is one on a mental level, and once you arrive at this heightened level of awareness about the evil workings of the world, you’re gonna help everybody you know (or those who know you, basically) overcome the barriers of society—even the Matrix—and achieve an unreal level of physical manifestation of all the things you’ve ever wanted to have in your lives.

You’re gonna carry everyone with you and not just yourself. In that sense, I feel a very strong Hero aenergy about your glow-up. If you have an audience, you can directly impact their lives by just being you and telling your Story. You’re like this blueprint or this Prototype of a futuristic kind of existence. That it’s possible for all people to do what you’ve done to elevate yourself out of a lack mindset and even sorrow.

Even if you didn’t necessarily have an ‘audience’ in that sense, you could still have this effect on your family and friends <3 Overall, you’re giving a Paris Hilton kinda vibe. Girlie lives weirdly for herself but in all that she does, she’s so iconic that she becomes a trend-setter. You’re like this trend-setter that sets the standards higher when it comes to what people could expect from themselves whilst living in society. Does that make sense?? XD

Oracle Guidance for Air Signs🔻💙

👯Gemini – Priestess of Innocence

⚖️Libra – Priestess of Illumination

🏺Aquarius – Priestess of Protection

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Camera Ready for 🐝Water Signs – Red Historian (John Dee)

6 of Pentacles Rx, 10 of Wands, 9 of Wands

O. Mai. Gut. How’s your gut doing, babes? LMAO So, the first thing I’m getting is that your gut health is very important to your real physical glow-up. Hear me out. Gut health is DIRECTLY linked to mental health, and I think most of us already know this to varying degrees? Our vitamin intake also affects hormones and those hormones affect our moods, which affect mental health, which then affects physical radiance?

Yup, that applies to everybody but more so to you if your physical attributes are highly Water-based—such as Sun, Ascendant, Moon, IC and MC, and also to some extent your Venus, and to a lesser extent your Saturn. If these placements are Water-based or they are located in a Water House, everything going on inside your body, which is like 97% fluid…water and blood and all that…your physical appearance is highly linked to how healthy your ‘inner world’ is doing. So, it’s a good idea to pay more attention to the insides of your body before you make all of these efforts that pay heed to only the outer skin.

Am I making any sense? T_T I don’t know the technical terms for these things LOL

But anyway, the year you’re reading this, Water Signs, you’re being encouraged to take better care of your gut health as well as the kinds of ‘water’ that you consume regularly to help with proper hydration. I’ve read that coconut water is incredibly beneficial for daily consumption so maybe that could help. This year, you’re super supported in learning from different professional takes on health and how that affects physical appearances!

Know that health tips and tricks can vary in benefits based on gender, race and ethnic backgrounds; so that’s also a very interesting component in your studies. If you take the time to study what makes you UNIQUE based on your genetics, ancestral origins, or even the geographical location you grew up in, you can more easily decide what practical routines to apply for yourself to achieve the easiest glow-up that makes sense! <3 Good luck~

Oracle Guidance for Water Signs🔻💛

🦀Cancer – Priestess of Healing

🦂Scorpio – Priestess of Divination

🎏Pisces – Priestess of Intellect

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAG Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[waitmyturtles]

I was supposed to finally have a quiet moment this week, my first of 2024, to catch up on all the dramas I’m behind on, but alas — real life has gotten in the way, and it’ll still be a little bit before I have time to write big meta again. I’m way behind on thoughts for last week’s episodes of Playboyy, Last Twilight, and Cherry Magic Thailand, but I do very much want to write about them, so some quick notes on these three as follows:

1) I owe @poetry-protest-pornography and @chaos0pikachu my thoughts on camp and Playboyy. I intended to pen this post last week after last week’s episode, but said life (ha) has gotten in the way. Friends, please note that I still SO want to write this, because I think deconstructing why camp as a style works in art will be a wonderful conversation, regardless of the narrative success (or not) of Playboyy.

So, speaking of the narrative success of Playboyy — and the upcoming debate (maybe?) about a balance of style and storytelling in dramas, I watched last week’s episode of Playboyy with this post about The Sign in mind, because I think this post gets at a thing that I want to write more about re: Playboyy, which is, like — what makes a story/narrative contextually coherent, and what responsibilities do the artists behind a show have to viewers to make a story coherent?

I think one thing we were coming to in the conversation on camp at the end of last year was whether or not Playboyy could be considered a good, a successful, or maybe even a complete story by way of its various elements. At least for now, leaving camp aside, I still don’t think this show is working narratively at all. That Captain/Keen storyline had my head spinning — uh, your coach gave you one difficult practice, and you revenge on him by filming a sex tape without consent? How…..did we get there? Porsche now has feelings for Jump? I’m still not grabbing the whole Aob/Puen feelings debacle? The Nant/Nuth storyline has gotten momentum, but not enough to fill the majority of an episode, which is a shame, because it’s the only storyline element giving this show any context at the moment. And as @lurkingshan noted, the only real compelling moment in this episode was between Teena and Zouey about how they’d transcend reality to love better versions of each other. It was lovely to watch! But I’m still not sure why we’re watching all of these storylines and if, ever, they’ll come together in a coherent arc.

So, yeah man. I was so intrigued by the premise of this show. It ain’t workin’. I’ll have more to think on this regarding style. But the stories aren’t coming together — and I TRULY think that’s a shame, considering the important themes of the show.

2) From the little ability I had to poke around Tumblr last week after the last Last Twilight episode, I think (I think!) a general feeling was that the episode wasn’t as depth-y as it could have been for the MANY heavy moments of parental interventions that took place. I believe that’s right. I think there were too many gaps in the contextual flow of the show that left Day’s mom looking more like an enemy (like, even on Pran’s mom’s level) that could have been addressed with a touch more context coming from her.

Let me explain. When I see single moms in Aof Noppharnach shows, I first go to He’s Coming To Me. HCTM has the best BL mom ever — a single mom absolutely ready to embrace her son as he’s coming out.

We know Aof loves depicting moms; he wrote as much about it last year after Moonlight Chicken aired. He’s got some legendary moms — of course, Pran’s mom; Tian’s controlling mom (who I posit is actually a front for patriarchy in A Tale of Thousand Stars); Pat’s passive mom, who is actually way more down with reality than Pat’s dad; Kao’s mom that Kao is so fearful of by way of disappointment. (Special shout-out to Pete’s dad in Dark Blue Kiss as the best BL dad.)

In other words, we know Aof has the goods when it comes to commentary on parenting. We know from episode 9 that Day’s mom (Mhon) went through tremendous hardship to raise her boys, including begging for food. She’s a famous and successful chef by the time we meet her, a workaholic. She’s a single mom, a working single mom, and Porjai is about to be on the same cusp. Night happens to be the bridge to those two.

Mhon’s willingness to keep Day in his room….her ignoring Night to start the Christmas dinner. The taking away of Day’s phone, oof. Saying that Mhok crossed a line — all while she was aware that Day previously had a crush on August. These small points create quite the enemy storyline on Mhon.

This is unfortunate, because I actually felt, watching the episode, that there was a lot about Asian parenting that was being left on the table. Valuing work and the safety of one’s kids OVER their happiness is quite the social phenomenon in Asian parenting. A good bit of Day’s mom’s actions could actually be seen as appropriate by certain-minded parents in Asia.

Yet, to have Day’s mom then ignore Night during the dinner, to have Day’s mom take Day’s phone away without explaining why he can’t be in a relationship — even for an Asian viewer like myself, well used to a particular amount of conditional brutality in Asian parenting — those storytelling decisions seemed a little harsh without more context as to how Day’s mom was driven to be the way she is now.

We had plenty of context into Dissaya in episode 10 of Bad Buddy. That moment opened doors for us to get what the hell was going on. I would love to have a similar contextual moment for Mhon, words by her about her story, that tell us how she got to where she is by way of raising her boys and becoming successful. Despite her behavior to her sons — we know she worked damn hard to provide for them. A badass lies within, and I know a successful Aof show would show us that. I hope we get it.

3) Cherry Magic Thailand, episode 5! I LOVE what’s happening with Rock/Min against the Rokkaku/Minato storyline — I love this expansion, and how Rock is less clueless and much more emotionally vulnerable than Rokkaku. I love feisty Pai. I LOVE Junior’s Jinta! I have to continue covering my mouth as I cackle.

As compared to Adachi at this point in the storyline — I wonder if CMT is offering Achi a bit more of the clueless hand than he deserves. I love the embellishments to the jealousy storyline between Karan and Kurosawa — Achi and Rock pushing off in the boat alone was particularly poignant — but Achi is well aware of Karan’s heart now, and I’m a little surprised that he seems a dash clueless that his interactions with others would make Karan jealous.

This is a minor quibble, though. Achi and Adachi are two dudes unfamiliar with love. But I wonder slightly if this vibe I’m feeling is perhaps a result of the original Cherry Magic Japan story being literally doubled in time in Thailand.

Again — MINOR quibble. This show is a refreshing delight. And I LOVE LOVE LOVE the next part of the storyline. I love that they found a similar place in Thailand to shoot Karan’s drunk flashback scene as Kurosawa’s in Japan. Will Achi offer us Thailand’s version of a classic JBL run? I sure damn hope so!

That’s it! I think I’ll be able to catch up on all of this week’s shows in real time, bless up!

[malibuhabits]

hiiii, this is a snippet from my new (and first!!) fic on ao3 (chevymalibu.)

Chapters 1 & 2 are up now!

Dead Asleep (Dreaming Away Your Life)

In the Rutherford Bench area of Napa Valley, California, the February sky is clear and sunny despite the rainy season, and Nancy Wheeler has been offered an outdoor tasting and vineyard tour on Eddie Munson’s secluded grounds where he lives tucked away from prying eyes.

The 53-year-old musician purchased his $20.3 million Mediterranean-style estate surrounded by budding vines and vibrant green hillsides a few years back. Behind a sturdy gate hides a six-bedroom, nine-bathroom abode that underwent extensive renovations by the current owner, including giving it a rustic ’plucked straight from the south’ décor. Available only to those within Eddie’s inner circle, the property contains a hush-hush storage unit that holds approximately 500 of the rocker’s favorite sips—some being produced and fermented by his own personal team of specialists.

A bottle is opened. Eddie fills a glass with the burgundy nectar and hands it to Nancy, but does not pour one for himself. ”Dr. Erica Sinclair would be kickin’ up a fuss if she heard I was drinking before noon,” he explains, “supposed to be doin’ this shitty thing called ‘Drynuary’. Ever heard of it?”

“The challenge where people abstain from drinking alcohol during January?” Nancy asks, eyeing him curiously.

“And February,” Eddie answers but it’s comical how quickly his eyes widen, “just January, ain’t it?” he waits for a confirmative nod before cursing under his breath, “Dr. S is one sneaky lady, fuckin’ Christ,” he laughs.

Still, he seems to be content to remain without a drink. Nancy wonders if perhaps his latest visit to rehab had finally given better results—how badly the previous attempts had failed are only one Google search away. But as Eddie tells her, he is far from perfect, has made mistakes and is “slowly becoming a person he likes.”

They are soaking up the sun in a brick-laden backyard bordered by hedges and trees that provide ample privacy. The stone patio wraps around a glowing swimming pool that complements the surrounding landscape and reminiscences of Old Hollywood glamour.

Nancy places a digital tape recorder between them on the poolside. Eddie splashes water around with his foot like a child. Pulls his other knee up and presses his cheek against it. Hums a melody vaguely familiar.

He looks healthy. Very different from the scrawny, vampire looking guy who might just drink your blood—in a romantic way, of course. Now he looks more mellowed and balanced, has a corny sense of humor and good (or at least better than before) manners. He’s still ostensibly dark and charismatic, though.

“Where do you want to start?”

Eddie gives a conspiratorial grin, “don’t think that’s my call, o’ great interrogator.”

“Okay,” agrees Nancy, “let’s start with the Callahan ‘93 campaign.”

“Straight to the commercial, huh?”

“Well, that is how you first met Steve Harrington, right?”

Eddie’s grin changes, turns into something softer, something sadder, his eyes gaining a distant, faraway look. “That’s right.”

“Then that’s where we start,” Nancy musters up a smile she hopes looks like an encouraging hand pat. “Are you ready, Eddie?”

Eddie nods, all his piercings flickering sunlight, his mane of curls swaying, “yup, but I bet you aren’t.”

[radamazard]

Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

Day 6 - Entropy

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

Krook House QueerPlatonic Polycule - Modern Human AU

(Okay, so I was super stuck on this for a whileeeee. For the life of me I just couldn't think of anything for entropy… except for the MLP fan song for Discord. Soooo you're getting that. The song’s a bop anyway~

Also, I've decided now that any Modern Human AU I write for this is just a prototype for the biiiig Bells Hells / Crown Keepers Modern Human AU that I wanna write. It's good practice to get used to writing them all human and outta the canon universe~

Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!)

“You tried so hard to make a hero outta me, but there are some rules I don't obey… and I just wanna cause a little chaos and entropy~♪”

Fuck, now it was gonna be stuck in his head for WEEKS. Everyone knew that when you started singing the damn song absentmindedly, that it meant you were bound to have it bore into your brain and hibernate there for the next fortnight and a half at LEAST.

Which was gonna be hellish, but hey, it could have been worse. Anni could have heard hi-

“Fuckin’ knew it was you!”

Speak of the devil. Or in this case one of his ‘beloved’ partners, who right now seemed to be screaming to be thrown out a window. Defenestrated, if they wanted to get fancy and earn a few brownie points from Letters. ‘Learning is always important!’ after all.

“Do we gotta do this shi-”

“dO wE gOtTa DO tHiS sHiT~? Fuck yes we gotta, I heard your ass singing pony shit, and it's my duty and right to tease the ever loving fuck outta ya!” Anni grinned, the edges of it taking on just a hint of malice, yet only a teasing way. As much as the two bickered and bitched about one another, there was a lotta love there, and neither of them actually wished any harm on the other… nor would they wanna cause it.

Teasing and being a casual dick though? That was fair game.

“When a track slaps, it slaps. I don't control the rate at which shit slaps, An,” Ashton argued in turn, and ignored the pointed eye roll he received in turn. Hey, if she wanted to fight them on this then she'd have to do all the heavy lifting.

“Maybe, but you DO have enough of a brain left in there to still have good taste, right?”

“Low blow,”

“No lower than your shit taste in music.”

“Least it ain't as low as your taste bud count. Lemon juice on spaghetti o’s? What the actual fuck?”

“Fuck you! You’ve just got the taste buds of a five year old!”

“Better the taste buds than the IQ.”

“You callin’ me a dumb bitch?”

“Never a bitch! I'm a fuckin’ gentleman, Anni, you think I'd stoop that low? Am calling you dumb though.”

“Get fucked you sparkle horse loving cu-”

“What are you two fighting about this time?”

Both Anni and Ashton froze, already feeling the disapproving gazes of their partners upon them. Getting the look from just one of them was bad enough, but having both Letters and Milo stare at you like that had a certain silencing effect.

Especially when it was mixed with Milo’s rare ‘what the fuck is pulling me from my work’ tone of voice.

“Anni’s calling me a loser for liking pony songs, like the elitist prick musician she is.”

“Get stuffed!”

“With you? Nah. Gross.”

“I'd be offended if that feeling wasn't fully shared. Cause yeah. Gross.”

“... Is there something wrong with liking My Little Pony?”

Never had Anni gone from being a smug ass bitch to horrifically regretful so fast. The woman may have claimed to the world that nothing would ever make her take back anything she said, but one sad look from Letters… Man, the guilt had rarely kicked in so fast.

“Fuck. No… I was just-” Anni cringed, looking between Milo and Ashton for support. The former raised a brow at her from behind their coke bottle glasses, a hand now balanced upon their hip in a way that just screamed ‘You dug your own grave, find a way out.’

The latter brushed past her, coming to kneel beside Fresh Cut Grass’ wheelchair with only a slight wince of pain. He laid a hand over FCG’s own and offered it a reassuringly squeeze.

“Nah. The ponies are fine by me. And hey, Anni likes The Batchelor, so maybe she should shut the fuck up.”

“The Batchelor is a god damned mas- Right, fuck. Apologies.”

Anni had the decency to look guilty at least, kicking her heels as she gnawed at her lip anxiously. Apologies had never been her strong suit. Nor had any kind of intimacy. But for her partners she was willing to try. They deserved at least that.

“... Sorry. I was bein’ an ass. Just wanted to rile Ash up and didn't think shit through. You're free to like whatever the fuck you like. Cringe is dead and Ash and I personally shanked that bitch! It's flne for ya to like the pastel horses. But you ain't ever getting me to watch it, okay? I’d rather choke to death on actual horse cock,”

“Stunning visuals there as always, Anni.” Milo sighed.

“What can I say? I live to displease~”

“... Thanks, Anni. And Ashton,” FCG uttered quietly, smiling a little as they watched Anni’s cheeks burn and cough into her hand awkwardly. “Oh! What was the song you were singing, by the way? Let me guess!! Smile? No… I'm thinking it was a fan song, right? Oh! I know! Is it the one I showed you last night? Entropy?”

“Damn right it was Entropy! The fuckin’ thing is STILL in my head!”

Letters laughed, the sound as brightly infectious as ever. There was a round of chuckles and snickers, and by the time they all wandered off to do their own things each and every one of them was wearing a smile.

Damn was their good mood contagious.

Just like that dang song.

[delirious-donna]

Donna!! ♥️ if you want to could you tell me how a couple (or however many you feel comfortable with talking about) of your self ships proposed to you? i would love to hear !

Ah Gray! This is so cute, I’ll cry. 😭

I'm gonna put this under a cut cause it got loooong! 😅

Kakashi - the man was a nervous wreck. His poor friends heard nothing other than is completely unfounded worries prior to his proposal. He was convinced I'd say no, thinking himself not worthy and that couldn't be further from the truth.

It happened a little differently from how he planned it in his head. The plan was to take me to dinner, then for a walk under the stars and ending with him dropping to one knee as we gazed at the moon.

In the end, he couldn't wait, didn't think he could sit through a meal with a ring practically burning a hole in his pocket. He stopped me on a little wooded path near where I used to live before I moved in with him, it's the exact spot where he first took my hand a few years back and we became more than friends.

I cried (a lot) and he didn't like that. They were happy tears but Kakashi can be a bit of a worrier. Obviously, I said yes and the rest is history. Oh, and we didn't make the dinner... I got a little too flirty on the way and he ended up carrying me back home to do other things.

Nanami - organisation is one of his strong points and he had planned the whole thing out like a military operation. Not a soul knew what he intended to do, even nosy Gojo hadn't been able to sniff out what was coming.

He took the entire week off work, had to get special permission from the higher ups but he vowed he’d work whatever was required on his return.

I returned from work to find him waiting on me with two suitcases by the door, this was quite alarming but I was over the moon when he told me we were taking a vacation. Man swept me off my damn feet, took care of literally everything and ensured I had a glass of bubbly in my hand at all times.

The actual proposal happened on the beach, it was not long after the sunset and the air was still warm. We were looking at the beach houses near where were staying when he tugged on my wrist to stop me and asked me to marry him on the spot. Kento told me that he wanted us to live here, away from his work and somewhere we could have a happy little family.

I said yes, might have been a bit over enthusiastic as I knocked him to the sand but all ended well. I got a beautiful ring and some lovely memories of intimacy under the stars. Now we are just saving up to move.

Mitsuya - hmm, not one I’m super proud of but very pleased with how it ended. The proposal was not planned, he didn’t have a ring but that meant we could choose one together.

Sooooo, it might have followed an argument. Nothing super serious, but I was finding it hard how much of himself he was pouring into his work. I’d never felt neglected or unwanted in our relationship but for some reason he got really obsessed with this one show he was collaborating on.

It came to a head when he refused dinner for like the third time that week. I snapped, told him he was being selfish and that he couldn’t just waste away because there were people that needed him like his sisters and me.

It was enough for him to finally realise that he couldn’t just live through work and that there were other things more important. He cried, it was really hard to see and I definitely cried to. He asked me to marry him as we sat on the floor of his studio clinging to each other and sobbing. But we’re more than happy now and Takashi has a far better work life balance.

Hanma - oh hell no… we ain’t married or engaged. Maybe one day but Shuji is a hard one to bring around to the idea of family. I still love him but we’ll see what the future brings.

[wanderinglotus7]

WHAT A YEAR….

Crazy crazy crazy. Man, I can’t believe we are 6 months deep in 2023. Where did time go? First of all happy anniversary to me lol. It’s been a full year and I’m still working for Adelante (BIDMC). No lie, I’m kind of surprised I haven’t exited out of the door haha. Last week during my supervision, I went over my One year Performance Review with my supervisor. This review involves me sharing my responses to two questions and the first question is “What are you most proud of from this year?”. I wrote down four accomplishments, but my number one answer is that I made it a year. I had my supervisor complex. I was straight up. The team is lucky that I didn’t leave already. Since I started last June, I’ve seen so many social workers, especially BIPOC SWs, leave (deuces). Seeing people come & go at a rapid pace doesn’t instill a sense of confidence or security as a new social worker in this field. Sometimes I felt like I made the wrong decision in saying “Yes”. Yet, I know deep down this is the path God called me to walk down, but again, I didn’t envision myself working in a big medical system like BIDMC.

I do my best to reframe the situation because those that have left were called towards greater. They are making moves they believe are in their best interest. I would do the same thing. I don’t want to stay somewhere I feel like instead of flourishing I feel like I’m unsupported or feeling unfulfilled. I say BURNOUT!!!!! I say MISERY!! I might even say DEFEATED! As for me, I don’t have serious plans of leaving Adelante anytime soon. In reality, if I wanted to leave I don’t have a clear picture of where I would want to go next. Second, my current position is providing me the financial stability that I need right now. Third, I want to my LICSW before I leave because that would be the next career changer I need to be able to live the comfortable life I desire for myself and my future family. I feel like I enlisted into the military hahaha. Accepting this position, I promised at least three years of my professional life to BIDMC. Or the better organization would be the Center for Violence Prevention & Recovery.

Talking about CVPR the program received a 10% budget cut. So we have enough money to maintain current staff as well as hire one person for the “Oncall/Acute Response” social worker. However, we continue to dance in circles and trying to figure out what CVPR services/program is gonna look like moving forward. I silently roll my eyes. I continue to say what I need to say…not sure if people are actually listening or not. Either way, no job is gonna kill my joy and no job ain’t gonna drain my spirit. THATS FACTS!!!! Saying all this is why I’m temporarily giving CVPR two of my work days (I’m not giving up my remote day). Plus, I can’t keep neglecting my primary role which is being a social worker-clinician for my Adelante clients. FYI; Adelante ain’t got no money (tragic), but we are still kicking. By the grace of God we are still kicking.

In the other areas of my life I feel like they are somewhat balanced. I placed a pause on the whole dating because I’m encountering nothing but trash. I’m not a garbage collector. I want the best for me. And I deserve exactly that. So far I have no ill words to say about my new therapist. I do find myself sometimes holding back a bit even though I’m a total open book. IDK. I guess I don’t want to feel like I’m getting trapped in a vicious cycle of bitterness. What my new therapist has done for me so far is confirm that in the past months I’ve been grieving. More grieving the “What Ifs” of my life along with the grief of my Grandma Shirley (R.I.P.). I really do miss my grandma. She really was my heart & soul. And it saddens me that my future children will never get to meet her and experience the same love she gave to me while she was here on Earth. That’s why we have memories right. They will get to know her because I will always keep her spirit, her light, her legacy through my memories. Me sharing her story with others.

This leads me to my true calling which is being a storyteller. Last weekend, I had the blessed opportunity to focus on my writing. I was dripping in creativity and inspiration. I didn’t quite wrote anything new necessarily, but took the time to revisit and revise a few poems I’ve already written. I could be being bias, but I noticed a growth or maturity with my writing style. Rather a growth in the messages I’m trying to convey in my poems. I’m happy that I’m listening to myself and intentionally focusing my energy towards a passion of mine that brings me peace. I’m slowly working myself towards getting Purple Hearts published (sold) on Amazon (ooof). Everything is a process and I’m not gonna rush thru the process. Also, I can’t let excuses distract me from my passion either. I might post one or two poems that I revised (not sure). Let’s see.

To be continued….

[shyinadarkplace]

Love Between Shelves- Chapter 3

Pairing: OMC Taishiro (Tai) Kageino x OFC Renee (Ren) Jackson Warnings: this chapter does contain mentions of past physicals abuse by a partner and mild violence. Word count: A/N: I love Tai and Ren and I hope that you all fall in love with them too. I do not give permission Series Summary:

Sometimes just when you think you will never find love, you find it in the one place you always dreamed. Between shelves of books. Renee (Ren) Jackson is a single mom with a rocky past but she is doing the best she can to provide for her mom and little boy. She can feel the loneliness like a physical ache but she is determined not to mistake loneliness for love ever again. Ren can’t afford to choose wrong. It's not just her after all, it's her little boy too. So she’s built up her walls and resigned herself to being alone, because it’s better than the alternative. Taishiro Kageito lost everything . His home. His business. The life he had built. All in one fell swoop. Just when he’s at rock bottom he finds out his parents left him his childhood home and nest egg when they passed away. The only stipulation he has to move back to small town he grew up in and stay for three years. So he does. He starts doing what he always did best and slowly building a business. He runs in to Ren and from that moment he wants nothing more than to give her the world. He’s just gotta win her over.

Ren 

After my collision with what could only be a Nephilim or half giant, I went to join my mom and kiddo. We didn’t spend much longer gathering a few books before heading to check out. 

“I heard you squeal. Did you knock another shelf down?” John asked teasingly as he rang us up. 

I rolled my eyes hard while my traitorous family smothered giggles behind me. “ John I have told you like a million times, there was a friggin screwdriver in the middle of the aisle. If there hadn’t been I would not have slipped and grabbed a shelf to keep from falling only to have it come down with me. Also, who owns a bookstore and doesn’t bolt down the shelves?!” 

John for some reason enjoyed this trip down memory lane. My natural clumsiness seemed to bring him no end of amusement. He chuckled. “Oh come on Ren. I have owned this place for YEARS and until you the only time I have ever seen a shelf fall like that is the movies. Also why would I bolt them down? What if I have to move them? Which I have had to do more than once, am I just supposed to keep putting bolt holes in my floor?” She just sighed. "We gotta go John. Coffee and Pastries await. Have a good day.” with that, me and my little family headed out the door to complete our biweekly ritual and head home. I was still trying not to think about what John had said when my mom whispered “Don’t worry baby girl, it won’t be much longer.” I didn’t say anything, just shared a look and sighed. She knows how hard it is for me at times, while she has a way of just knowing things I really wish this one would hurry. Before long we head home to enjoy a day of naps and reading. Honestly it was the small things that you have to cling to when crap gets hard.

Tai

“I could introduce you to her if you want. She needs someone like you in her life.” John said as I worked on the back side of his building. “Damn it. Will you just let it be. She ain’t got no interest in me.” I snapped. All he had been talking about for the past couple of weeks when I came to work on extending his building was Ren. It didn’t help that she was all I thought about anyway. John nudged my backside with his shoe, almost making me lose my balance. “Fuck!” I glare up at the smug older man. “First off don’t cuss at me. Second, you don’t know what she is interested in because you won’t talk to her.” I sighed “Look I don’t think me being a pushy bastard is gonna earn me any points and what do I have to offer her? Not just her but her little boy and momma? Nothing man. That’s what.”

I stand up and stretch. “Anyway if I get to work now. I can have the exterior framed up and ready for brick in a few days. Then it will take me a few weeks to get all the brick laid, the wiring and insulation, finally drywall and paint. It should all be done in ‘bout two months even though it is just me.” John just gave me this look like changing the subject was useless but nodded. Then a thought struck me and I sighed "Hey John, when exactly am I supposed to take down the existing wall? You’ll have to close the store for at least a few days for me to take it down.” He was quiet for a minute. “Well the missus and I usually take off the first week of June you can do it then. Gives ya time to take it down and seal off with plastic or whatever.” I just nodded. “I guess I better get over to the hardware store. I have some ordering to do.” John just nods and we walk back into the store. Heading towards the front I hear voices and John soft sushes me.

Ren

“Look Jack I told you already, I’m not interested.” I say once again facing away from Jack Freeman with my hands braced against the counter, praying that John materializes from wherever he is to save me. “Well just come on now Renny. We would make a great couple,” he says, pressing the front of his body against my back with his hands on my hips. I want to hurl. “Sides that little one of yours needs a Daddy, and I can fill that role real nice.” I am so uncomfortable I want to run but the only way for me to move is to the side which won’t work since assface has a death grip on my hips. “Jack get your hands off me. That is your one warning.” There is a sinister chuckle and suddenly I feel like I can’t breath and I want to cry. “Oh Renny, everybody in town knows what Isacc did to you and it didn’t matter how hard you fought him, did it?”

My blood runs cold. I am sweating and freezing. He is so close. I brace my feet to try and run but I can’t move. I take a deep breath, I can hear the back door softly open, and John hush whoever he is talking to. If I can just get Jack off me. “See that’s what I like when you just do as you’re told.” he sneers. “Get off of me Jack. Last fucking chance or you’re -” I don’t get to finish the sentence before I hear stomping and an animalistic growl. My head snaps to the left and for a split second I am more afraid of what’s coming toward me than what’s holding me. That is until a hand reaches out gripping Jack by the neck and tears him off of me. John whispers holding his hand out, “Come this way honey,” as I move past the giant holding a struggling cursing Jack to stand at the end of the counter with John he asks “Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you any did he?” I shake my head no. John puts an arm around me and leads me to sit down on a tall stool. It’s only then I realize I’m shaking. John straightens up , his face morphing from concern to rage. “Tai if you would be so kind as to get that trash out of my store.” Tai doesn’t answer, just hauls Jack out the door as though he weighs nothing.  John turns back to me. “Are you sure that you’re okay?” I take a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah I am fine. Just tired is all.” John nods and dials up his wife. A few moments later she comes in with some coffee and I couldn’t be more grateful. 

Tai

My daddy always said that there was no doubt in his mind that he would kill for my momma. He didn’t care if it seemed like something small, she was his and he was hers. I thought that he was crazy. I mean I knew he loved my momma more than anything but I couldn’t fathom the idea of ending someones life over bumpin in to someone. Not until today anyway. Today I realized that I would crush a windpipe if its owner breathed at Ren the wrong way, if it made her uncomfortable. 

Seeing Jack with his hands on her like that, the way I could see fear etched in every line of her body, I don’t think seeing red covers what happened. I saw the way she looked at me , for a split second I’m sure I looked like a monster, but the relief when she realized that was everything. Grabbing Jack felt like grabbing a rag doll. I felt like I could rip his arm off .  He tried to fight at first but once my hand was at the back of his neck, maybe he sensed that at that moment I really could have snapped his neck. When John asked me to take him outside I was grateful as all hell. I dragged that man to his truck and slammed him against it. “What the fuck Tai. You can ease up now man. She can’t see you.” Jack said with a pained laugh. I slid him up the side of the truck, making it creak, until he was eye level with me, which meant his feet dangled in the air.

“Jack this aint no fuckin show I’m puttin on. She told you to back off and then you put your hands on her. She ain’t yours Jack.” The fucker had the nerve to laugh “Well she ain’t yours either. Only man that has a claim to that fine piece of ass is Isacc.” I cocked my fist back and connected with his face before the thought even fully formed, his head smack hard against the truck. Jack groaned blood pouring from his nose and lip. “She ain’t property fucker." I snarled "Let me make this as clear as can be. If you or Isacc for that matter, decide to be stupid enough to show your face, call, send a text, telegram, morse code message, write a letter, take out an add about, or think about her or trying some shit like that again I promise No one will find your fucking bodies. This is the only warning you get." He tried to knee me but the way he was dangling gave him no leverage. He had to spit blood before he could speak. "You're makin a mistake boy. Issac aint gonna like this." I couldn't help but chuckle. "I don't give a rats ass what that slime does or doesn't like. If you need to hear it in caveman her and her family are protected by me. And you know better than most not to fuck with what's mine. Now go crawl back under your rock fucker." Then I drop him and watch as he scrambles away into his truck and peels off. When I turned around I saw John's wife blushing from head to toe, she gave me a smile. “John was right, you would be good for Ren.  Go clean the blood off your hands then come to the bookstore.” She continued on with cups of coffee in hand and I went into her shop to do as she said. The whole time thinking well fuck, I probably scared her.

[book-place]

Don’t Blame Me

Warnings: MoM-Civil War-Infinity War-Endgame spoilers, character death, mentions of going crazy, killing, slight cursing, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x daughter reader, Vision x daughter reader

*not my gif*

Summary: You were gone- and Wanda would do anything to get you back

A/N: The bolded and italicized are song lyrics; the italicized are past events; Maybe I’ll do a part 2 following the events of the rest of MoM??

Inspired By: Don’t Blame Me by: Taylor Swift

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy

A few months ago, Wanda Maximoff would never have even dreamed of finding herself doing what she was about to do.

A few months ago, Wanda Maximoff felt like the happiest woman on earth.

A few months ago, Wanda Maximoff hadn’t yet fought Thanos, who hadn’t yet invaded the planet to carry out his plan of bringing balance to the universe.

A few months ago, Wanda Maximoff's family was still alive.

A few months ago, Wanda Maximoff had never felt sorrow as deep as she felt every day that she woke up without them.

A few months ago, Wanda Maximoff would not have done the things she had done- was about to do.

If it doesn’t, you ain’t doing it right

She looked down at her trembling hands that were firmly clamped around the silver picture frame.

She couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath that occurred every time she caught a glimpse of the photo protected inside.

The most beautiful moment captured in time.

After the Civil War where she lost against Tony, Vision had offered to keep an eye on her, he had not planned on falling deeply in love and then be on the run together.

Neither one of them expected the baby, but they treasured it nonetheless.

They treasured you.

Finally forcing her eyes fully down, she took in the sight.

You were ten years old in the picture- having inherited special abilities from your parents that included fast aging at will- and you were in midair, legs spread out in a sideways split. You had the largest and goofiest grin on your face as your hair flew in every which way and your hands spread out as far as you could reach them.

Vision was sitting on the couch you had jumped off of, looking up at you with a loving smile and playful glint in his eyes.

Wanda sat on the other side of the couch, head buried in her hands. But even that didn’t stop the small smile on her face from showing.

Only seconds before that was taken, she had begged you to sit still and take a nice picture with her and your father, and you had promised. With her not knowing you had your fingers crossed behind your back, of course.

Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

Quickly reaching a hand up to rub away a stray tear that had begun wandering down her face, Wanda tried to collect herself once more.

Gently setting the frame down on the table, she took one last longing look at it before forcing her eyes away and ordering her body to move out of the room.

The Darkhold floated in the middle of the living room, just above the coffee table, black mist swirling around it like a second skin.

When she had been forced to free Westview and once again watch her family be ripped away from her, the book of the damned was the only thing keeping her semi grounded.

It was there to fill a dark void with something even darker, something that helped the pain go away momentarily. It gave her hope for a better life. One she could spend with her husband and daughter, without ever watching them be so cruelly taken away from her again.

Wanda didn’t know what she would have done without the book, where she would have ended up. But none of that mattered, because she had the book, and she was damn sure that she would be getting her family back.

I’ll be usin’ for the rest of my life

You had told her that you had been ready, that she didn’t need to worry about you.

“I am a Maximoff, after all.” You had told her when she tried to convince you not to come to Wakanda with her and her husband.

Vision had simply put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a look so full of love that Wanda’s heart would still swell to the day at the mere thought of it, “She is ready, darling. In fact, she was born for it.”

He had thrown a playful wink at you at the end of that sentence.

So with a defeated sigh, your mother gave in and gave you her permission to accompany her to Wakanda to try and save the world. Something that made fourteen year old you very happy.

I’ve been breakin’ hearts a long time

With the very last of her energy drained, Wanda had fallen to the ground in a heap, a gut wrenching sob escaping from the back of her throat as she looked over at Vision.

“Mom?” Your voice called from somewhere in the trees, to which the woman’s head snapped up, “Dad?”

As your form came into sight, Wanda quickly tried to scramble up, “No, no, no! Baby! Stay there!”

But you didn’t listen, eyebrows furrowing as you looked at her and came closer, “Mom? What’s wrong?”

Then your eyes landed on your father.

All of the color immediately drained from your face, “Dad?” You had called out hastily, rushing past your mom and over to his now gray body.

Once you got close enough to fully see everything, you let out a terrible shriek, hands flying up to cover your mouth as you took stumbling steps backwards.

Wanda was finally able to fully stand up, and she didn’t miss a single second rushing over and scooping your into a hug, cradling your head against her shoulder.

But you harshly pushed her away, “What happened?” You choked out, eyes already turning red from the tears running down your face.

A lump caught in her throat, “I had to-“ At that point she didn’t know if she was trying to convince herself or you.

“You did this?”

Those three words broke Wanda more then anything ever could.

The look of horror and betrayal and down right sacredness on your face was enough to haunt your mothers dreams forever.

“Baby, you don’t understand-“ She tried to take stumbling steps towards you.

But for every one that she took, you took two back.

“HOW COULD YOU!” You screamed, not caring if the entire world hear you, “HOW COULD YOU DO-“ You were cut off before you could finish your sentence.

Your eyes widened as you looked down at your hand, slowly disintegrating before your very eyes.

“No.” Your mother breathed out in horror, trying again to come closer to you.

“No!” You shrieked back, jerking your whole body backwards as if she had just kicked you in the ribs.

Even in your last moments you didn’t want to be near her.

She was forced to watch from a far as you- her only daughter and the person she loved most in the world- disappeared before her very eyes. And there was nothing she could do about it.

The universe seemed to want to punish her, letting her sink to her knees and she let out a deafening scream before crying harder than she ever had before.

It took two minuets for death to take her, too.

Two of the most agonizing moments of her life.

And toyin’ with them older guys

With a deep breath, Wanda blinked hard as if to rid herself of the memories. The memories that turned her life into a nightmare.

A muffled cry brought her eyes away from the book, and they slowly dragged over to the corner of the room, where a man sat with his hands and feet bound together, a rag over his mouth, and tears coming out of his eyes.

Just a day ago, he had been a simple mailman who had made the mistake of accidently peering through the window when he heard a loud noise and witnessing one of Wanda’s breakdowns as she trashed the house out of sheer agony.

Of course she couldn’t let him leave, so she brought him in and let him watch as she put the whole place back in order without ever lifting a finger.

She took slow and almost teasing steps towards the man before gently bringing a hand to cup the side of his face, “It’s okay.” She reassured softly, wiping a tear off his cheek, “I am about to make everything okay again. And you will be able to witness it.”

The man couldn’t even tell if she was trying to convince him of that or herself. But all he knew was that she was crazy.

A glare automatically hardened on Maximoff’s face, “Crazy?” Her thick accent was clearly shown through her anger, “You think I’m crazy?”

His eyes widened and he fiercely shook his head back and forth, not understanding how she knew. But being terrified nonetheless.

“I am not crazy,” She said slowly, bringing her other hand onto the other side of his face, her grip tightening, “I am a mother.”

A sickening snap was heard before the man’s body fell into a limp pile on the floor.

Just playthings for me to use

Wanda sighed, shaking her head disapprovingly down at him, “You could have gone home soon, but you just didn’t have an open mind.”

“I am not crazy.” She repeated to herself, not even sparing the man another glance as she turned on her heel and made her way out of the room, “I am doing this for my daughter.”

It hadn’t even taken a day of you being gone for it to really hit her. For everything to start reminding her of you.

Like her car, the one that you used when you were first learning how to drive. Or how the sky looked at your favorite time of day. She couldn’t fathom eating your favorite meal, nor would she watch any of your favorite movies or tv shows.

There was nothing she could seem to do to escape your spirit. In every room she stepped in. On every piece of furniture. Everything.

Something happened for the first time, in the darkest little paradise

She needed you. More than anything in the world she needed you back.

You had died yet again right before her eyes and there was nothing she could do to stop it. For the second time.

When everybody had been brought back into reality, it was as if barely a moment passed from all of those resurrected. Including you, so there wasn’t exactly a happy ‘reunion’ between you and your mother.

She was the reason your father was dead.

But nevertheless, you both put whatever was going on aside so that you could finally end everything. Beat Thanos.

And you did. But at a terrible cost.

Right before Tony had snapped his fingers, Thanos himself had gotten a hold of you, and drove his sword through your body without a second thought.

Wanda wasn’t the only heartbroken person filled with soul shattering sorrow. All of the avengers- your friends and family- had to witness you dying in front of them as well.

And then three weeks passed.

Three long, terrible weeks. The weeks before she found Westview.

And in those weeks, Wanda could feel her magic growing stronger and stronger because of her overwhelming storm emotions.

She couldn’t exactly tell how it happened, but one moment she was sobbing on the ground, and the next she was in a beautiful home with the love of her life and their daughter staring back at her.

It was a miracle.

Shakin, pacin, I just need you

“Come and catch me, mom!” You cheered with a laugh, throwing the door open and hurling yourself into the backyard.

Wanda felt herself let out a laugh as she jogged steadily after you, “Aren’t you a little old to be playing these games?”

You looked over your shoulder with a grin, “Never!”

What you hadn’t realized as you looked away though, was your father standing right before you, catching you in his arms before you could run anymore.

He looked down at you with a loving smile, “Now, what do we have here?”

You did you best to wiggle out of his strong grip in between giggles, “Dad! Let me go! Mom’s gonna try and get me!”

“Too late.” You heard her teasing voice behind you mere seconds before her hands attacked your sides in tickles, prompting laughs out of you as you wriggled around even more.

“N-No!” You protested in between fits of giggles.

Wanda couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her family. Together and happy once again.

And it was at that moment that she knew that she would do anything to preserve that happiness. No matter the cost.

For you, I would cross the line

She reached down and stroked the side of your head gently, pushing your hair behind your ears in slow movements so as to not wake you.

Things had begun to get complicated in Westview.

There were people- bad people- trying to take her family away from her once again. And she would not let that happen.

She would be damned if she let her little girl be ripped out of her life once again. She didn’t know if she would be able to survive it again.

And then there was her loyal husband. He had clearly begun to suspect something was happening, and she could not have that.

With the smallest and softest of sighs, Wanda forced her hand to move away from you and she stood up.

She was going to have a talk with whoever was responsible for what was going on in her town, and let them know what would happen if they didn’t leave.

Stealing one last glance back at your sleeping form, she closed your door softly behind her.

I would waste my time

“Come on, baby, I have to go.” Though she said it, Wanda had no agitation in her voice. She could never be mad at you.

“But mom!” You whined, reaching a lazy hand over the couch, not getting up from your lying position, “It’s supposed to be girls night!”

She sighed, running a hand up and down your arm reassuringly, “I know, honey, but there’s this errand I need to run really quickly for Auntie Agnes.”

You sighed, “I didn’t want to have to do this mom.”

Her eyes quickly widened and she dropped your arm, backing up, “No! No! Don’t you dare, young lady!” She warned.

You paid her no mind as you looked back up at her, your best puppy dog face on display for her to see.

By the time she slapped a hand over her eyes, it was too late, the damage was already done. She had seen her greatest weakness.

A groan escaped her, “Fine, fine!” She relented, moving back around the couch and plopping down next to you, lifting your head onto her lap gently, “But only for a few minutes.” She said sternly.

You let out a cheer as a smile bloomed on your lips, cuddling deeper into her side as you sighed in contempt.

Wanda let out a chuckle, bending down to place a kiss on the crown of your head, “The things I do for you.”

I would lose my mind

She shook her head once. Twice. Three times.

All of them were sharp and almost violent. Trying to get rid of something that wasn’t physically there. Trying to get rid of whatever feelings she could sense bubbling up inside of her. Whether it be guilt or sorrow- she couldn’t even tell at this point.

“I’m not crazy.” She repeated once more- brokenly.

They say, “She’s gone too far this time”

Stephan would try to stop her- others too, no doubt.

But they were all mere obstacles in her way. Nothing that couldn’t be thrown aside.

Wanda wouldn’t let him- or anybody- get in the way of her happiness. She had already given it up far more times than was fair to any one person.

She shouldn’t have to endure it any longer. She shouldn’t have to be the only person who’s only source to a meaningful life was denied.

Why should she be the only one to suffer when everybody else got back what they lost in the snap?

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy

“I did what I had to do.” Wanda whispered, practically cowering back from the horrified look you were giving her.

“What-how can I be here if I died?” You demanded, shock taking over every cell in your body as you were unable to comprehend exactly what you had just unearthed.

“I hadn’t meant for it to happen,” Your mother desperately tried to explain, “But it was a blessing- I have you and your father back now. We can all be together again.”

You shook your head, taking a stumbling step back in a manner that reminded her far too much of that day within the trees of Wakanda.

“I’m sorry.” Was all she whispered before closing the distance between you with two large strides, and she gently placed her hands on either side of her face.

The panic on your features quickly disappeared as her eyes glowed the same red that was coming out of her fingertips, and instead a confused look overcame you.

“Mom?” You asked, “What happened?”

She smiled softly, dropping her hands, “You were getting a headache, I took it away.”

You smiled at her, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” And she meant it.

If it doesn’t, you ain’t doing it right

Oh, how she longed to wrap her arms around you once more. Reassure you that everything was okay, become happy once more. Give you the long life full of joy that you deserved.

The life that you had been robbed of.

No matter what happened today, she had every intention of giving you that chance once again.

Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

Feeling the power of the book of the damned lingering around the room had suddenly become dizzying, and Wanda found herself stumbling her way into the bathroom.

There, she practically fell against the counter as she gripped the cool material, eyes finding themselves in the old and slightly cracked mirror above the sink.

There were dark bags under her eyes and her cheeks had sunken in to an unhealthy level. She hadn’t rested a full night or eaten a full meal since Westview.

And while her magic had become more and more powerful, it also took more and more energy out of her every time she used it, resulting in the other half of how sickly she looked.

I’ll be usin’ for the rest of my life

It was too late now, there was no going back. Even after she was able to get you back, she didn’t think she would ever be able to give up the book of the damned entirely.

She needed it. Just as much as she needed you.

Don’t blame me, love made me crazy

“How about this?” Wanda asked in delight, doing a small twirl and striking a pose to show you the full outfit.

You hid a giggle behind your hands, “You look-“ You cut yourself off when you couldn’t take it anymore and your giggles turned into full blown laughter.

Your mother let out a huff of air, crossing her arms, “Fine, not the black cat then.”

Stifling the rest of your laughter, you sobered up and smiled slightly as you said, “Mom, it’s Halloween, wear something fun.”

She jutted out her lip as she pouted a little bit, “I thought a black car was fun.”

The smile turned into a teasing smirk, “Just like you thought the alien and weird pirate were fun? And the-“

She scowled, cutting you off, “Fine, fine, I get your point.”

With a long breath, you pushed yourself off the bed and made your way into your mothers endless closet, “How about this?” You asked, picking up a red outfit.

Wanda’s eyes lit up, “A Sokovian fortune teller!” She immediately exclaimed, an idea already formulating in her head.

If it doesn’t, you ain’t doing it right

The sound of laughter from two different people bounced off the walls as Wanda entered her household, a smile tugging on her lips once it reached her ears.

Silently, she crept through rooms and peaked her head through the door of the kitchen, searching for the source.

There, was the sight of you and Vision standing in the kitchen with mixing bowls and ingredients that looked like everything needed to make chocolate chip cookies.

Her smile softened and she closed the door gently with a click, leaving the two of you to it.

Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

The sound of a crash sent Wanda’s eyes flying open, and panic immediately ensued.

Her head whipped from side to side, only for them to narrow in on the television, the source of the noise.

The tension in her body immediately relaxed and she slumped back against the couch, for the first time becoming aware of the extra weight against her lap.

Allowing her head to turn down, her entire expression softened when she saw you leaning your head against her, breathing even in a way that told her you were asleep.

On the other side of you was your father, his arm around you, even as he too slept through the movie.

She didn’t even lift a hand as she used her powers to turn the movie off, kissing the top of your head softly before resting her head on yours and closing her eyes again.

I’ll be usin’ for the rest of my life

Wanda’s eyes once again closed tightly and she shook her head back and forth, ridding herself of those thoughts- those memories.

They weren’t going to help her find you.

Some small part of her cried- screamed- at her that you weren’t going to be the same.

You weren’t going to be the daughter that she remembered. Just like you weren’t the same after the snap, or even in Westview. They were all just versions of you- versions that she created.

And this other you in another multiverse was most definitely not going to be you, she shouldn’t even-

No.

She had to stop, this was going to be you. And she would have you back in her arms, and the two of you would be happy once more.

And once she was able to get you and make sure you were okay and safe, she would then go for Vis.

She knew he would understand. The need to make sure their daughter was okay before she could even think about saving him.

But she would, and everything would be well again.

We Are Groot 🤎- @lovanitu @jvdethirlwall @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @irethepotato @femalemarvelself @mukbee @its-hell @ip747

[that-spider-witch]

On “Dead” Cultures and Closed Spiritual Practices: Why Colonialism Is Still A Problem.

Let me start this by saying that, as far as my knowledge of Paganism and Polytheism as a whole goes, I’m what the internet witch community calls a “Baby Witch”. I’m stating this out of the gate because I know there will be lots of people, including witches who have more experience on the craft than me, who might decide to ignore what I have to say based on that fact alone, stating that I’m not knowledgeable enough to give my opinion about this.

Here’s the kicker: I’m a ‘baby witch’, yes, but I’m also a twenty-six year old Venezuelan woman. I’m an adult. I’m Latina. I’m a Christian-raised Pagan,but I’m also a Latinoamerican woman over all other things including that. I grew up on this culture, these are my roots. It is because of this background than I’m writing this post today.

Looking through the “Paganism” and “Witchcraft” tags of this website, I’ve seen a few posts throwing indigenous deities and spirits’ names around on lists alongside deties of open cultures. Yes, you can know better by doing your own research and not going by what just a random Tumblr user wrote on one post (as I hope its the case with everyone on this website), but the fact that pagan beginners are still getting fed misinformation is still worrisome to me.

There’s nothing like reading a so-called expert putting Ixchen (Maya), Xolotl (Nahuatl) and Papa Legba (Vodou) on the same damn list as Norse, Hellenic and Kemetic deities and tagging it on the tags aimed at beginners who might not know better to truly ruin your morning. I’m not mentioning user names here: If you know then you know.

To quote @the-illuminated-witch on her very good post about Cultural Appropriation: 

“Cultural appropriation is a huge issue in modern witchcraft. When you have witches using white sage to “smudge” their altars, doing meditations to balance their chakras, and calling on Santa Muerte in spells, all without making any effort to understand the cultural roots of those practices, you have a serious problem.

When trying to understand cultural appropriation in witchcraft, it’s important to understand the difference between open and closed magic systems. An open system is one that is open to exchange with outsiders — both sharing ideas/practices and taking in new ones. In terms of religion, spirituality, and witchcraft, a completely open system has no restrictions on who can practice its teachings. A closed system is one that is isolated from outside influences — usually, there is some kind of restriction on who can practice within these systems.”

A counter-argument I’ve seen towards this when someone wants to appropiate indigenous deities and spirits is to use the “dead culture” argument: Extinct cultures are more eligible for use by modern people of all stirpes. It is a dead culture and dead religion. It would be one thing if some part of the culture or religion was still alive, being used by modern descendants, but the culture died out in its entirety and was replaced, right? They were all killed by colonization, they are ancient history now, right?

Example: “If white people are worshipping Egyptian deities now, then why can’t I worship [Insert Aborigen Deity Here]?”

To which I have two things to say:

Ancient Egypt’s culture was open and imperialistic, meaning they wanted their religion to be spread. This is why Kemetism is not Cultural Appropriation, despite what some misinformed people might tell you. Similar arguments can also be made for the Hellenic and the Norse branches of Paganism, both practiced by people who aren’t Greek/Norse.

Who are you to say which cultures are “dead” and which are not?

Religious practices such as Vodou and Santería certainly aren’t dead, not that it keeps some Tumblr users from adding Erzuli as a “goddess” on their Baby Witch post, something that actual Vodou practitioners have warned against.

Indigenous cultures such as the Maya and the Mapuche aren’t dead, despite what the goverment of their countries might tell you. The Mapuche in particular have a rich culture and not one, but two witchcraft branches (The Machi and the Kalku/Calcu). Both are closed pagan practices that the local Catholic Church has continuously failed to assimilate and erase, though sadly not for lack of trying:

“The missionaries who followed the Spanish conquistadors to America incorrectly interpreted the Mapuche beliefs regarding both wekufes and gualichos. They used the word wekufe as a synonym for ideas of the devil, demons, and other evil or diabolical forces. This has caused misunderstanding of the original symbolism and has changed the idea of wekufe right up to the present day, even amongst the Mapuche people.”

For context, the Wefuke are the Calcu’s equivalent of the Familiar, as well as reportedly having more in common with the Fae than with demons anyway.

This and other indigenous religions are Closed because it is wrong for foreigners to just come and take elements from marginalized groups whom are still fighting to survive and that they weren’t born into. To just approppiate those things would be like spitting in their faces, treating them and their culture like a commodity, a shiny thing, a unique thing to be used like paint to spruce up your life or be special.

I know some of you are allergic to the word “Privilege”, but on this situation there really ain’t a better word to explain it. You weren’t born here, you don’t know what it is like, you are only able to see the struggle from an outsider’s point of view.

If a belief or practice is part of a closed system, outsiders should not take part in it. And with how many practices there are out there which are open for people of all races, there is really no excuse for you to do it.

Why Colonization Is Not “Ancient History”

If you have kept reading all this so far, you are probably wondering “Ok, but what does Colonization has to do with any of this?”

The answer? Everything.

With the general context of culture appropriation out of the way, let me tell you about why the whole “dead culture” argument rubs me the wrong way: Here in Venezuela, we have a goddess called Santa Maria de la Onza, or Maria Lionza for short, whom’s idol statue I have been using to illustrate this little rant. If you happen to know any Spanish, you might recognize the name as a derivative of Santa Maria, aka the Virgin Mary, and you are mostly correct: Her true indigenous name is theorized to have been Yara.

And I say “theorized” because it is a subject of hot debate whether she was really ever called that or not: Her original name, the name by which she was adored and worshipped by our ancestors, might have been forever lost to history.

That’s the legacy of colonization for you: Our cultures were stolen from us, and what they couldn’t erase they instead tried to assimilate. Our ancestors were enslaved, their lands and homes stolen, their artwork and literary works destroyed: The Maya and the Aztec Empire were rich in written works of all kinds, ranging from poetry to history records to medicine, and the Spaniards burned 99% of it, on what is probably one of the most tragic examples of book burning in history and one that people rarely ever talk about. 

People couldn’t even worship their own gods or pass their knowledge of them to their children. That’s why Maria Lionza has such a Spanish Catholic-sounding name, and that’s why we can’t even be sure if Yara was her name or not: The Conquistadors couldn’t steal our goddess from us, so they stole her name instead. Catholics really have a thing with trying to assimilate indigenous goddesses with the Virgin Mary, as they tried to do the same with the Pachamama.

On witchy terms, I’d define Maria Lionza as both a deity and a land spirit: Most internet pages explaining her mention the Sorte mountain as her holy place, but it is more along the lines that she is the mountain. 

You’d think that, with Venezuela and other Latinoamerican countries no longer being colonies, we’d be able to worship our own deities including her, right?

As far as a lot of Catholics seem to think and act, apparently we are not.

The Catholics here like to go out of their way to shame us, to call us “cultists”, to ostracize us, with a general call to “refrain from those pagan beliefs” because they go against the Catholic principles. Yes, the goddess with the Catholic-sounding name, a name she happens to share with a Catholic deity, apparently goes “against Catholic principles”. You really can’t make this shit up. (Linked article is in Spanish)

This is just an act of colonization out of many, of not wanting to stop until the culture they want to destroy is gone. Don’t believe for a second that this is really their God’s will or anything like that, they are just trying to finish what years of enslavement and murder couldn’t. They might not be actively killing us anymore, but they still want us dead.

So no, colonization is not some thing that has long passed and now only exist on history textbooks: It is still happening to this day. It is by treating it as old history that they can keep doing it, and it is by pushing the narrative that our indigenous cultures are “dead cultures” that they try to erase our heritage.

Because we are not dead. We are still here, we are alive, we have survived and we’ll keep on surviving, and our gods and goddesses are not yours to take.

¡Chao! 🐈

[elysiadjarin]

Day 2: Breeding Kink

Day 2 of Kinktober and… I got carried away with this one. The others are not going to be nearly as long as this one, so you guys are gonna be spoiled with this. I hope you enjoy it! Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Some warnings for violence and blood mentioned, though nothing too graphic. PinV sex, unprotected, consensual, nonhuman character, exophilia, slight hint of biting kink

Tags: Dilf!werewolf x reader, exophilia, kinktober

Moonlight Through Colored Leaves

When you’d first moved to the tiny Irish town in the middle of nowhere, you’d originally hoped to escape the family drama that haunted you back in America. Thanks to your grandfather’s Irish immigration, you’d been able to get an Irish citizenship and move relatively easily. So, you’d packed your bags, only told your grandfather where you were going, and boarded the first flight to Ireland you could catch.

You’d quietly made your way to your grandfather’s tiny hometown far out in the countryside, and moved into the long-since abandoned house that had belonged to your ancestors before. Though it had been run down and you’d had to do some major repairs and cleaning, you’d finally made a cozy cottage on the outskirts of the small village-like town.

The town had been quite welcoming and friendly, and you’d quickly found a job working at the local town pub as a waitress. Your boss had been very welcoming, and you’d earned favor from your coworkers and boss for your hard work and quiet, unassuming diligence. The pay was good, and you found yourself growing comfortable in the sleepy town life, meeting your neighbors and getting familiar with the town dynamics.

You’d just gone in for your shift of the day when conversation caught your ear. You put on your waitress apron, pulling your hair up into a ponytail and walking out to the bar to grab your tray.

“Did you hear about the news?” Jaina asked, arms propped on the countertop. “I mean, about that Romanian vamp that landed on Scotland the other day. Word is that he’s headed this way.”

“Well why would it want teh come here?” Sean snorted. “We’re out in teh middle o’ nowhere, Janie, t’ere ain’t not’in’ here t’at it would want.”

“Well didn’t you hear that apparently they’re expecting Agent Blue to be chasing it down with the Dullahan?” Jaina hissed. “Why wouldn’t they come over here?”

You hid your discreet grimace, instead walking out in front of the bar. To your delight and surprise, you found yourself facing a familiar little figure sitting at the bar in a corner. The little girl caught sight of you and squealed, waving.

You went over to her giving her a hug. “Well hello there, Miss Morrigan,” you greeted cheerfully. “How are you this fine evening? Having a drink?” you teased, noticing the glass of juice near her notebook.

She giggled, nodding. “Yeah! I’m with Daddy today,” she answered, feet kicking against the bar. She turned her head to see the bartender approaching. “Daddy!” she said excitedly. “Look, it’s the nice neighbor lady I told you about!”

You looked up to see Lysander Sullivan standing there, polishing a glass with a cloth. He gazed down at his daughter with a fond look deep in his eyes, then turned to look at you, his ice blue eyes meeting yours.

“Is that so?” he asked, his deep voice a low rumble in the relatively quiet bar. It hadn’t gotten to heavy traffic times, so there weren’t many people around yet. His grey-flecked hair had been swept back into an elastic band, and his beard had been neatly trimmed.

You gave him a small, shy smile, a little embarrassed. Though you knew that the man lived next to your property, you’d been a bit timid about approaching him. He was a kind enough gentleman from everything you’d seen and heard, and he’d watched out for you as you worked, but you didn’t see any reason why he’d be interested in any further contact with you. After all, you were a younger woman in your mid-twenties that lived alone.

“Yeah! She helps me with homework sometimes,” Morrigan prattled on, “and she lets me water her flowers!”

You laughed a little, feeling the color splash across your cheeks. “Well, I certainly enjoy the little Queen’s company,” you admitted. You’d heard some of the other workers gossip about Lysander, saying that he was a single father to nine-year-old Morrigan and that her mother had died in a tragic accident. You didn’t really know, and you’d tried not to pry or overhear too much. The man had a right to privacy, just like you had things you were running from as well.

“Thank you for looking out for the little cub,” Lysander said, a small smile crossing his face. He mellowed out around his daughter, his love clear in how he interacted with her.

“Of course. It’s a delight,” you said, smiling at Morrigan. “She’s a smart little cookie, aren’t you, Queenie?” you asked, tugging at her pigtail teasingly.

She giggled. “Yeah!” Then she tilted her head at you. “Are you working with Daddy tonight?” she asked curiously.

“O-oh, well, sort of,” you stammered, taken aback a little. “He works behind the counter, but I serve people out there,” you said, motioning to the tables. “So I guess we do, in a way.”

Morrigan nodded sagely. “Ohhh, so you do the food and Daddy does the drinks.” She nodded, satisfied at her conclusion. “Oh, I’m making a drawing! I want you to see it later, when I’m finished,” she said, tugging at your sleeve.

You smiled. “Of course, Queenie. You just let me know and I’ll pop by when I have a moment, alright?” you promised.

She nodded, turning back to her notebook and picking up her crayons again. Tongue poked out, she diligently returned to her masterpiece. You gave her a fond smile, noting the way the soft lights made a halo in her blonde hair.

“She’s such an angel,” you murmured, grabbing some straws from the bar to stick into your pocket.

“Aye, that she is.” Lysander’s comment almost startled you. He glanced at you across the bar, the sleeves of his crisp maroon button-up rolled halfway up his arms. “I apologize for not bein’ a better neighbor,” he remarked.

You blinked, then reached up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “Oh, no— not at all,” you blurted, then gave him a chagrined smile. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’d met Morrigan when she was coming back from school, since I was in the front yard. She just… hopped on over, so I said hi. Honestly I should have introduced myself better, but…” You bit your lip. “I just kept putting it off because I didn’t want to bother you…”

He blinked, then chuckled slightly, as though surprised. “An’ here I thought it was ‘cause you didn’t really like me for some reason,” he said, amusement laced in his tone.

You gave him a horrified look. “Oh! Not at all!” You shook your head with a sigh, tugging mournfully at your ponytail. “I’m… notoriously bad at meeting people for the first time,” you groaned. “I just get nervous and tongue tied and I don’t know how to interact and… ugh.” You winced. “I am sorry, Mr. Sullivan. I should be a better neighbor, especially since I somehow got to know your daughter.” You half-laughed at yourself.

He waved you off. “I’m just glad you get along with Mor,” he chuckled. “She speaks endlessly about you. Seems like you’ve impressed her.”

You looked up at him, genuinely surprised. “Really?” you wondered, glancing at the girl. Then you smiled. “Well, I’m flattered. She’s such a smart, curious girl. I’m rather honored that she’d find me interesting.” You breathed a laugh, then glanced up at him. “I should get to my station, but… if you don’t mind, would it be alright if I swung by tomorrow to say hi and properly introduce myself?”

He nodded calmly. “Of course. She gets back home from school at three, if you wanted to catch her as well.”

You nodded, propping the tray on your hip. “Thank you! I’ll do that. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll stop procrastinating and actually start working,” you laughed, and walked off with a wave.

The night progressed relatively smoothly, customers rotating in and out with regulars stopping by. The crowds ebbed and flowed, sometimes more rowdy and sometimes more calm. Still, you enjoyed the atmosphere and the liveliness of it all. Despite it being a pub, and an Irish one at that, the town was small and most people knew everyone else. Plus, Lysander was the bartender for more than one reason. Everyone knew that making trouble of any sort was not tolerated and had force to back it up.

You occasionally popped by Morrigan’s place at the bar, either to have a chat or to admire the progress she’d made on her drawing. And throughout the night, your worries started to mount the more gossip you heard around the pub. Some of them had heard confirmation that the Romanian vampire gone mad was making a beeline for Ireland, though no one seemed to know why. There were even more rumors that Agent Blue, the famous Will-o-the-Wisp, was after the rampaging Pricoli. And still others said that the Scott Pack would be making a reappearance.

Once you’d finished your shift and helped close up shop, you started the trudge back to your cottage down the road. It wasn’t a far walk, really, and it gave you some time to think and clear your head from the smells of the pub. Reaching up, you pulled your hair free from the ponytail and sighed, shoulders slumping.

You’d come to Ireland to escape your problems, but it felt like they were all closing in on you as the days went by. As you got home and got ready for bed, you wondered if it was asking too much to hope for some peace.

Instead, you distracted yourself by trying to think of something to make for the Sullivans the next day. You didn’t want to go empty handed, after all. Maybe some bread-?

You fell asleep thinking about it.

~

You’d just lifted your hand to knock when the door flung open. Morrigan practically tackled you, wrapping her arms around your waist with a shriek of greeting.

Laughing, you balanced yourself and wrapped an arm around her. “Well hello, Queenie,” you greeted. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

She grabbed your hand and dragged you in, chattering happily about her day at school. “Oh, and you should have heard how everyone laughed!” She interrupted herself as she led you into the kitchen. “Daddy, she’s here!” she called.

Trying to balance the homemade sourdough in one hand while still holding Morrigan’s with the other, you looked up to give Lysander a helpless smile. “Hello, Mr. Sullivan,” you greeted, a little breathlessly.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement. “Well hallo, Miss,” he greeted back, wiping his hands with a towel. “Mor, why don’t you let her set the plate down before anything drops,” he said, shaking his head.

Morrigan let go of your hand, bouncing up and down. “Ooh, what is it?”

You offered it to Lysander, a little flustered. “I… well, I didn’t really want to come without an offering, so… I made some homemade sourdough,” you offered, a little awkwardly. “I hope you like it, it’s a fresh batch, still warm.”

He took it from you with a nod. “Thank you. We love sourdough, don’t we, Mor?” He seemed far more comfortable in his own home, less stoic and stern than in the pub.

Morrigan nodded, throwing up her hands with a cheer. “Yeah!” She danced around. “I love bread!” Then she grabbed your hand again. “Oh, oh, you gotta come see my room! Daddy just made me a new desk, and it’s really nice and shiny!”

Lysander waved you off as you turned to him. “Go ahead. Oh, I was going to invite you to dinner,” he added. “If you’d like. The food is almost done, actually. Your bread will be a perfect addition.”

You smiled. “I’d be honored. Thank you.” Then you let Morrigan drag you away.

By the time Lysander called for you both, you’d been given the official tour of her room and had happily listened to her tell stories of what she’d done at school and the projects she planned to do in the coming days. The little girl always cheered you up with her bright and cheerful presence. If anything, it eased your heart to see the little girl clearly so healthy and happy with her Father. She openly adored him, quite the Daddy’s girl.

As the three of you sat down at the table, you realized with a slight start that you’d never felt so comfortable in Ireland as you did in this moment. It felt… right, like you’d finally come home.

“Thank you for the food,” you said, giving Lysander a grateful smile. “It looks amazing.” The soup simmered in the bowls, while the sourdough bread had been cut into slices and set by the butter.

He nodded. “Thank you for the bread.” He passed the steamed potatoes, and everyone dug into the meal.

You let out a soft hum of contentment as you ate, enjoying the rich flavors and the homey comfort food. Clearly Lysander was a good cook, and you almost envied Morrigan for being able to come home to this every night. Not that you weren’t a good cook yourself, but you supposed company really did make a difference.

“The bread is so good!” Morrigan chirped, taking a giant bite of the bread slathered in butter.

You laughed softly. “I’m glad, Queenie. Take it slow,” you warned, worried she’d choke. “The bread isn’t going anywhere.”

She nodded, scarfing down her food. “Oh, oh, Daddy, cartoons are on soon! Can I please go watch? I did all my homework!”

Lysander nodded. “Alright. Go take your dishes to the sink.”

“Thank you! Morrigan cheered, sliding down from her chair and carefully taking the dishes. She trotted to the kitchen, then got herself a glass of juice and went to go to the living room.

You realized with a slight start that this was the first time you’d been alone with Lysander. Looking down at your spoonful, you wondered if you should maybe ask him the questions that pressed on your mind. Perhaps he would know. Then again… it’s not as though he were related to your grandfather’s clan… and not to mention, most of the people in the town didn’t even know that you were aware of the nonhuman community. In fact, you were rather positive that your coworkers thought you didn’t.

“If I may ask, what brought you to this small town?” Lysander asked, his voice calm and mellow. His blue eyes glanced up at you, and the question died on your tongue.

“Oh… family history, actually,” you admitted with a smile. “And, well…” You shrugged lightly. “I needed to get away for a while. I wanted a fresh start, somewhere where people didn’t really know me.”

“Understandable.” He nodded. “I essentially did the same with Morrigan when we moved here a few years ago.”

You hummed, reaching for a piece of bread. He handed you the butter, and you gently grasped the sleeve of his flannel for a moment. “You’ve got a bit on your clothes,” you said, wiping the smeared butter off with a napkin. You’d just let go when your fingers brushed across his briefly as you took the butter. You didn’t notice the way he froze, his movements jerky as he pulled his hand back.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Do you— I mean, does any of your family still live here?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. But technically, my extended family is here. My grandfather immigrated from Ireland to America, where I was born, but through marriage there are still people here I’m technically connected to.” You shrugged. “I haven’t really gotten in contact with them, though. They probably don’t know me that well,” you laughed with a rueful shrug. You glanced at him for a moment. “I bet it’s even harder when you have children.”

He glanced toward the living room, where the faint sound of the cartoons floated through the house. “Well, I suppose,” he admitted thoughtfully. “Still, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. She’s my life, really.”

You lowered your eyes to your plate, unable to deny how your chest tightened at the way his voice softened when he spoke of his daughter. You’d always tried to forget how much you’d been attracted to the older man. You’d only ever dated once, and while he’d been nice enough and it had ended cordially, you still hadn’t been able to forget the lingering feeling of disappointment you’d had from the experience. You’d known, after that, that it would either be a long time before you ever tried dating again or it would have to be to someone whose maturity at least matched yours. And, unfortunately for you, that tended to mostly apply to men past their forties.

You really did try to forget how Lysander ticked all the boxes.

“I can see why.” You smiled. “She’s really precious.” Your eyes slid toward the living room. “Does she… inherit from you?”

Lysander looked up, his gaze suddenly piercing as he stared at you openly.

You gave him a faint smile. “I don’t talk much about it, but my grandfather comes from the local O’Connor Faoladh Tribe,” you said calmly, taking another sip of the soup.

His shoulders relaxed, the hard edge in his expression melting away. “Ah. Yes, she does. But she hasn’t fully shifted yet. It will be another year, we think. Are you-?”

You shook your head. “Oh, no. It’s funny, really,” you said thoughtfully, motioning with your spoon. “My grandfather is Faoladh, and my mother’s side of the family is a lycanthrope pack.” Your lips twitched. “And somehow, I got the recessive genes and ended up a simple Seer.”

His eyebrow raised. “Not so simple, I’d think,” he remarked. “Aren’t Seers rather uncommon now?”

You shrugged. “For a reason. There’s plenty of potential but not many who actively practice anymore. The price is heavy for knowledge like that.”

He gave you a discerning look. “Is that what you’re running from?”

Your silver spoon clinked softly as you set it down on the edge of the plate. “I suppose you could say that,” you murmured. Your eyes closed as you shoved away the memories of distant screaming, the crackle of fire, crimson splashed across stone floors— “Or maybe toward something.” After all, you mused, there had been a reason you’d felt drawn to your grandfather’s homeland, and town in particular. And of course, you’d never been one to fight Fate too hard.

“Perhaps so,” he conceded. Then he stood. “May I take your plate?”

“Oh— please, let me help.” You stood, taking your dishes and starting towards the kitchen. “At least let me wash or dry.”

When you finally got back home, you sat down on the couch and buried your face into your hands. Seeing Morrigan and Lysander together had stirred up old memories you’d long since tried to forget. Old desires that you’d thought you’d given up on: hopes and dreams of a family to call your own.

You crawled into bed, everything inside you aching. After all, what could a Seer with a cursed fate possibly offer anyone?

~

The night the Dullahan rode into town, you’d just started closing up the pub on night shift duty.

They’d ridden in, followed by the famous Agent Blue clad in his dark robes and carrying his lantern over his shoulder. He strode in the door, followed by the Dullahan. At first, you hadn’t even noticed the other figure trailing behind them.

Your Boss, Dorian, had walked out of the back room to greet them. He, of everyone in the town, was the only one to know of your heritage, as the elected leader of the supernatural community in the town. He nodded to the group as they entered.

“Welcome, Dullahan, Agent Blue.” He nodded at them, shaking the Will-o-the-Wisp’s hand.

“Greetings in return, Chief Dorian,” Agent Blue replied, his face still covered by the hood. “Apologies for the intrusion. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Pricoli that’s been running amok all over the Isles.”

Dorian nodded. “We certainly have. I assume you’ve come on a hunt.”

“We have. And I’ve brought someone with me.” Agent Blue turned, motioning towards the back of the group.

You’d been distracted, still working on trying to finish clearing up and getting out of the way. If your boss had asked, you were ready to offer to serve the new guests as well, giving Lysander a glance that he returned with a small nod.

It wasn’t until you straightened and turned around, finished, that you heard a familiar, startled voice call your name. Turning, you looked up and saw, to your shock, a very familiar face staring at you. You froze as the figure lunged forward, wrapping you in a tight hug. After a moment, you awkwardly hugged him back, mind whirling.

“What are you doing here?” Your younger brother stared at you incredulously, holding your arms. “I didn’t even know you left home! Last I heard you were still there.”

You grasped his sleeves, disoriented. “O-Oh. Ray,” you gasped, processing. “I—“ You suppressed a flinch. “I just… moved into grandfather’s old cottage,” you stammered, then looked down. “I had to get away,” you said quietly. “It was too much.”

Of all your family, you knew that Ray would best understand. He’d been the only one to really stand up for you back home, try to support you as best as he could, being a younger sibling. When everyone else constantly reminded you of your Fate, your Destiny, Ray had been the only one who had encouraged your personal hopes and dreams, had listened to your fears and worries.

He sighed. “I mean, I can’t blame you,” he said, shaking his head. “Still… does anyone know?”

You scoffed slightly, turning your head away. “Only Grandfather ever cared about me besides you, Ray. There’s no one else who probably even asked.” You shrugged. “How is school?” You’d been the one to support him when he decided to move to Scotland to attend University. He, too, had wanted to escape home.

He grinned. “Pretty great, actually!” Then he glanced behind him. “Turns out my best mate is actually one of Agent Blue’s sons, so when the whole Pricoli thing went down, I offered to be his in to the Faoladh Tribe here. For formality, y’know.” He shrugged. “I remembered what Grandfather had always taught us about how picky Faoladh are about tradition.”

You nodded. “Yeah…” You huffed slightly. “Technically only the people in here right now even know that I’m a part of the supernatural community,” you said dryly.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s some dedication to keep it quiet. How has the local gossip train not found you out yet?”

You snorted. “Maybe because I’ve always been quiet and kept my mouth shut.” You rolled your eyes at him, though a smile twitched on your lips. “And we both know who never can.”

He playfully cuffed your shoulder. Then he grinned. “Oh, but guess what?” His eyes sparkled. “I found my Mate!”

Your eyes widened. “Really?” Your heart lightened for him, happy that your younger brother had finally found his Mate. “Does she know yet?”

He shook his head, face falling a little. Well, not yet. I mean, I’ve kinda only just met her and all, so… and it’s kinda awkward, cause…” He winced. “Well, she’s my best mate’s younger sister.”

You gave him an incredulous look, then sighed, shaking your head. “Well, good luck with that one, Ray,” you snorted. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the situation with that one.”

He shrugged. “I know, but…” His grin turned goofy. “She’s so pretty. You should see her. She’s even pretty sassy, kinda like you are with me.”

You laughed softly, patting his arm. “Well, I’m glad I was able to catch up with you. If you need a place to stay, you know my house is always open to you.”

He nodded. “Thanks, sis. I should probably head back. I don’t know what else they might want me for.” He paused, then gave you an odd look. “Have you… found anyone?”

You blinked at him, startled. “What? Ray, you know what my Fate says.” You frowned.

An odd expression crossed his face, then he shook his head. “Yeah, I know. Just… don’t forget the promise you made me.”

You sighed. “I won’t, Ray.” As if you ever could, you thought with a hint of bitterness. He wouldn’t let you.

He squeezed your hand, slipping a piece of paper into your grasp. “Text me. I wanna keep in touch.”

You nodded, pocketing the note. “Thanks. Good luck, Ray. Stay safe.”

He nodded, then jogged back to Agent Blue with a wave. You were left to stand there, your heart sinking with every step he took away from you. Everything was lining up far too well. Though you’d vainly hoped to escape from the Fate that had hung over your head for so long, it seemed as though you’d just walked right into it instead.

Turning back to the bar, you quietly packed up your things. Bidding Lysander goodnight, you checked to make sure Dorian didn’t need you and headed back for home.

It was only a matter of time.

~

Rain splattered against the ground, heavy and thick like a curtain. Shielding your eyes from the drops, you pushed yourself to run, faster, as fast as you could. There was no time left to think.

The vision you’d had kneeling under the large Fae Maypole tree you’d found in the forest nearby kept flashing through your mind, insistent and horrific. Your Fate loomed, past and future meshing into the present in ways you could hardly stand. You’d thought you’d been running, cowardly but maybe safe from the Sword of Damocles—but now here you were, fallen headlong into the trap of the Fate you’d known since childhood would claim your life.

And yet your feet would not stop running, pushing you forward without hesitation. Was this not worth it? Was this Fate—this Fate that you’d feared for so long, hated and loathed and tried in futility to escape—was it truly so horrendous? Now that you were here? In this moment of truth?

You barreled up the steps, slamming your shoulder against the door without a pause. It broke, sending you headlong across the threshold to skid across the carpet. Ignoring the burn on your arm, you looked up as you heard a scream. Morrigan’s face stared at you, sheet white as she curled up in fear by the foot of the couch.

Jacking yourself up, you didn’t take time to glance behind you. “Mor, into the safe room,” you gasped, “your Daddy sent me, okay? I need you to get in the safe room, now.”

She nodded shakily, bravely scrambling to her feet and running towards the safe room that Lysander had made for her. Nothing would get through the doors, you knew, once they locked. You waited until you heard the lock click, then turned and scrambled back out the busted door.

In the empty area between your houses, out on the outskirts of the town, everything seemed oddly distant yet crystal clear. Your memories nudged at you, whispering about the deja vu that filled your every pore at the sight of the green, rolling grass and the relentless rain that poured over everything. In the distance, the red glare of a fire fueled by gas and undaunted by rain began to dominate the color of the sky.

It didn’t surprise you when cold fingers wrapped around your throat, leaving mottled bruises to bloom against your skin. You stood still, knowing that any movement might crush your throat. You may have been Fated to die, but not until you’d finished your task.

The enraged Pricoli snarled, hissing in your ear. “I know he sent you to hide her,” he sneered. “You helpless, pitiful Seer. For all your preeminence, did you not find a way to best me?” he barked a laugh, maniacal and loud. “You useless Seers and your cursed fates—and for what? A single moment of ruined glory?”

Your breath shallowed, airflow restricted. Agent Blue, several Dullahan, your brother, Dorian, and Lysander all emerged from the tree line, pausing as they saw you being held hostage. You closed your eyes for a moment as the icy hands constricted around your throat even further.

“Tell me where she is, and you get to live, Seer,” he snarled, his face nearing your ear. “She is my perfect match, my BloodSong. She is fated to be mine, my apprentice!” he howled. “Give her to me, my right!” His nails started to lengthen, turning into claws, digging against your skin. “Or I’ll drink you dry first and use you as fuel to take these maggots down.”

You brother’s face had gone ashen in horror, staring at you as though trying to deny his own eyes. His face twisted in despair.

“I’ll never give her up to you,” you answered, aware that everyone could hear you despite the rain. You tilted your head up, letting the rain wash over your face. “I am a Seer,” you declared, loudly, proud of it for the first time in your life. “And I embrace the Curse of my Fate. I pay the price gladly, if it means the power to make sure you never lay a finger on her.”

The Pricoli snarled, the rage almost audibly warping his voice into something demonic. “Then meet your Fate, Seer.”

Your knees gave out the moment his fangs ripped into your jugular. Strangely enough, the pain wasn’t even that bad, you mused hazily. Your eyes—were they blurred by tears or the rain?—rolled up to see your brother, mouth open as he reached for you. Even Lysander, white fur matted and soaked, had his maw open as his snout pointed to the sky.

Distantly, you could hear screaming. A roar, loud, tumbling through your chest, rattling into the ground. The crackling of fire. Everything started to get.. so… cold. Vaguely, as the hand shoved you forward and you landed against the ground, you could see out of the corner of your eye the Pricoli hunch forward. Despite the pain, the numbness… your lips curled in a vindictive smile.

The crimson eyes turned to you, a horrified anger sweeping through them as they landed on your twisted grin. A cold hand went up to his throat, and the Pricoli started to choke. His body lurched, tongue lolling as he gagged on your blood, his veins starting to light from the inside out with a toxic green. Slowly, agonizingly, he fell to his knees, his face contorted in a paroxysm of agony as he choked on your blood, your concentrated inherent magic tearing him apart from the inside out.

Your limbs felt sluggish as you forced yourself up, your ears ringing. Reaching up, you pressed your hand to your ruined neck and staggered to your feet, starting to lurch away from the destroyed corpse of the Pricoli. Warmth smeared across your skin, and every breath sent needles raking down your throat and into your lungs. Your feet stumbled, and before you realized it, you were leaning against something broad and firm.

Two icy blue eyes stared down at you, claws wrapping around your arms. Strangely enough, though, you didn’t fear that grasp. Lysander’s maw moved, you noticed faintly, but all you could hear was the persistent ringing in your ears. Vaguely, you reached up, your fingers clumsily landing on the side of his snout. Red smeared his fur, and your arm dropped down numbly to your side.

With the last of your strength, you forced your mouth to form the words that your shattered throat couldn’t say. Tell her goodbye.

The world spun into crimson.

~

Shivering, you shook your head as you curled into the corner that you’d pressed yourself into. Tears burned behind your eyes, and you heard your breath start to rasp and wheeze, rattling your throat.

Your brother’s face crumpled as he stared at you. “Please,” he begged, his voice wavering. “You need to drink.”

Agent Blue rested his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Take it easy, son,” he said, voice firm but compassionate. “She’s understandably frightened. Even though she’s successfully gone through the change to being a damphyr, she’s had quite the scare and probably doesn’t want to feed.”

“But she needs to!” Ray exclaimed, frustration lacing his voice. “She’s already hurting.”

It was driving you insane. The pure power of the Will-o-the-Wisp’s blood was calling to you like a tempting beacon, and your brother’s hot blood practically screamed at you. The thirst flared in your throat, an ache so powerful you wanted to gag. It was like sandpaper. But you didn’t want to feed from them. You didn’t want to risk losing control, didn’t want to didn’t want to didn’t want to—

“I’ll take care of her.” Lysander stepped into the room. He turned to Ray. “She gave her life to save my daughter. This is the least I can do. I promise she’ll be in good hands.”

Your brother paused, then sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know you will, Sir,” he said, defeated. “I just…” He glanced over at you, eyes reflecting his misery.

Lysander reached out, squeezing Ray’s shoulder. “I understand,” he said quietly.

Ray nodded, then approached you again carefully. “Hey.” His voice softened. “I know you probably don’t want me around. But you have my number. Please, just… contact me when you’re ready, ok? You know I’ll be here for you, like I always have been. I’m gonna go back to Scotland, but you know how to reach me if you need anything. I won’t tell any of the family that you’re here.”

Swallowing back the drool, you tentatively reached out and barely ghosted your fingers against his cheek, hoping your eyes would convey your thanks. You just… needed space. Away from him, to control yourself, get yourself together.

But his expression turned a little more hopeful, and he nodded. “Love you, sis,” he said quietly. “Please… live.” With a small smile, he stood and followed Agent Blue out of the room.

With a quiet whine, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to push past the unbearable, insistent pain scratching down your throat. Your throat roared for a drink. Your eyes snapped open when you heard Lysander approach. Though you didn’t know why, his presence always sent you into an absolute panic, though not of fear. Your thirst around him seemed to impossibly skyrocket. Like something about him drove you crazy.

He knelt, his blue eyes fixed on yours. He reached out slowly, giving you a chance to move away. Instead, your body froze, entirely fixating on the way his plaid shirtsleeve pulled tight around his arm, rolled up to his elbow. You swallowed thickly, his blood an absolute siren call. You could smell it, practically taste it. Dripping down your throat, into your veins, ambrosia sweet and thick— Drool slipped down the corner of your mouth, past the pressure of fangs against your lips.

Lysander’s eyes strained. “I know what it does to you,” he said quietly. “Just the fact that you’re not lunging for me right now is…” He sighed, his other hand raking through his hair. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or-“ His lips twisted as he cut himself off, as though conflicted. “There’s a reason why my blood calls to you.” He settled himself in front of you, making you want to scream as both relief and a frenzy of want roared through you.

“Of course, Mor is my daughter,” Lysander said, his voice low as he looked down at the floor between you. “But her Mother was… not my true Mate.” He sighed. “I didn’t really care, because I loved her. But she… well, she left me. Didn’t want Mor, didn’t want… me.” A self-depreciating smile passed across his face. “But it was okay, I had Mor and I only wanted the best for her. But still… somewhere inside me, I knew that my true Mate was out there somewhere.”

You almost couldn’t focus, his proximity almost painful because he was too far, and yet not close enough—

“And then you appeared, and Mor started to love you, and I—“ He sighed, hand reaching up to cover his face. “And I didn’t know if I wanted to run or stay.” His shoulders slumped. “Seeing you with Mor, working with you, talking with you… every moment I spend with you near is like agony, but when you leave it’s like you take a part of me with you and I can’t breathe.”

Abruptly, your mouth went dry, shocked almost clear out of bloodlust. Wait, was he saying-?

“I told myself that you’d be better off without me,” Lysander admitted, voice thick. “I’m… not young any more. You’re beautiful and— and you have so much more promise, a whole life ahead of you… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’d gone for so long without my true Mate, I thought I’d be fine. But when I saw you lying on the ground…” He turned his face away, jaw ticking, a wild, feral light in his eyes. A low snarl rumbled through his chest, dissolving into a whine he quickly cut off.

He looked back up at you. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel… obligated to do anything. But you deserve to know the reason why my blood calls to you so strongly, and why— why I want you to drink from me. Why I don’t mind.”

Your mind whirled. The permission. The heady scent of his blood. The warmth he promised. The realization that he was calling you his true Mate. The way he looked at you, like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted.

Reaching up, you clapped your hand over your mouth with a half-sob of desperation. You wanted it. You practically ached for it, the kindness and love he offered. The promise of a family, a home, someone who had seen you at your worst and still somehow wanted you.

“Please,” Lysander rasped, his eyes laced with that same desperation roiling in his gut. “You don’t even have to accept me as a Mate. But you need to feed, and I—“

You were at your limit. You’d already taxed yourself as a newborn damphyr somehow trying to resist the frenzy of the first feed, and now that your Mate was in front of you, offering freely, practically begging you to feed from him, you could only take so much.

You lunged, a snarl dying on your lips as you lunged forward, the strength of your desperation actually knocking the seasoned werewolf down onto the floor. And still, even as you straddled his waist, your fingers curled around his shoulder, eyes fixed on the tempting expanse of his neck… you still tried to fight. Still tried to fight it, to control yourself.

But Lysander’s broad, warm hands gently wrapped around your waist, not fighting or pushing you off. The scar slashing across the left side of his face seemed to glow in the light streaming through the curtained window, and he gave you a smile.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice low and soothing. “I can handle it. I know you won’t hurt me.”

You shuddered, drool dripping down your fangs. Leaning forward slowly, you tried to keep yourself paced, tried to force yourself to some modicum of control. Mouth opening, you lowered your head until your fangs just barely grazed the crook of his neck and shoulder, not too close to his jugular but just enough.

The moment your fangs sank into his throat, Lysander’s fingers went weak around your waist. A deep groan pooled into the air, and a tremor ran through his body underneath you.

Heat pooled in your stomach, even as his blood slid down your throat with a satisfaction unparalleled. He tasted sweet and dusky, like fresh bread and sunshine, and freshly-cut grass after the rain. The pure heat and warmth he radiated soaked into you, and you felt the bloodlust slowly slake as you drank. Finally, you forced yourself to let go, vaguely aware with your instincts that you’d taken enough to not hurt him but probably still leave him a bit lightheaded for a moment.

The bite wound almost instantly healed over, and his grasp on your waist tightened again, fingers flexing as he regained his bearings.

You leaned your head against his chest, the gratitude and shame warring inside you. Grateful that he’d been so kind, so understanding and gentle. Ashamed of your own arousal, the way your entire being reacted to him.

Your name slipped from his lips, and a moment later his face pressed into your hair. His voice ached with the same torn desire that roiled through you. “I shouldn’t—“ He sucked in a sharp breath as you pressed your body flush against his. You could feel how tight his pants were, could feel the lines of his bulge pressed up against your thigh. A choked groan accompanied the way his hands spasmed around your waist.

“Mate.” The whisper slid from your mouth, the first thing you’d said aloud since your change. Your fingers clenched in his flannel shirt. “Mate… wants me?” Your voice cracked with your fear. Fear that he wouldn’t want to deal with you after all, that you weren’t worth it—

He pulled you closer to him, hand sliding to your hair. “So damn much, sweetheart,” he rasped, cradling your head to his shoulder. “You’re so goddamn beautiful and fierce— I don’t care if you’re human, Seer, damphyr. You’re my true Mate, my love.”

And you buried your face into his shoulder and let yourself shed a few tears of relief. He wanted you. Accepted you, in spite of everything.

“I know it’s not fair to ask you to stay,” his voice strained. “You gave your life for Morrigan, and I’m so much older—“

You reached up, your hands sliding up to cup his jaw as you slanted your lips over his, tears slipping down your cheeks. His mouth opened, kissing you back with a fervor as he splayed his hand over your lower back, pressing you into him. He let out a low growl, the sound rumbling through his chest and straight into your body. Your entire body flushed, and you let out a quiet whimper.

Almost before you could register it, he flipped you over onto the floor, hovering over you. His teeth bared, and he stared down at you with a heat in his eyes that scorched through you. His hands clenched around your waist, pulling your hips flush against his.

You whimpered, tilting your head to the side and exposing your throat to him, sprawled against the floor. Your chest heaved with breath, and a moment later his teeth closed gently on the arch of your neck. A soft breathy moan escaped your lips, eyes fluttering closed as his scent washed over you, his mouth marking your neck, replacing the memory of the Pricoli’s fingerprints mottled against your skin.

With an effort, Lysander wrenched himself away, though he half rutted against you. “Darling, I’m going to need you to tell me if you don’t want this,” he rasped, voice thick and half a snarl already.

“Lysander,” you whispered, lips caressing his name.

His hips stuttered, and he pulled you up against him before heaving himself up and staggering to the bed. He lowered you onto the bed, wasting no time before he practically yanked you to him, his hands hot and greedy. He kissed you, somehow still gentle and yet needy enough to take your breath away.

“May I?” He tapped your shirt.

You nodded shyly, letting him slide it off of you. You lifted your hips in an invitation, and he lowered his mouth to your neck as he slipped your shorts off. He groaned, hands sliding across your bared skin. His skin felt so hot to the touch against your chilled body, wholly satisfying. You practically melted into his hands like putty, malleable to however he touched you, moved you. He made you feel safe. Loved. Cherished. Wanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “So beautiful, leannen.” The Gaelic spilled naturally from his mouth as he slid his hands under your back, unhooking your bra. You let him slide it off, too desperate for the warmth of his hands to process embarrassment. His hands cupped your breasts, callouses rasping across your nipples in a way that left your breathless and aching.

You whimpered, a little encouraged by the way you felt his bulge throb against you at the sound. Fingers tangling in his shirt, you tilted your head for air, arching into his hands.

“Fuck,” Lysander hissed against your jaw, his hips rolling into you. His hands slid lower, and his thumbs hooked in your underwear. “Can I?”

You nodded, fingers clenching against his shoulders as he slid them off. His shirt was already straining at the seams, threatening to rip. At your tug, he took a moment to reach down and practically rip his shirt off, tossing it uncaringly to the side as he opened his mouth against your neck.

You were already dripping, just his touch and scent enough to arouse you. Breath hissed through his teeth as his fingers dragged through your slick, just barely brushing past your clit. A whine escaped your lips as you shivered, fingers slipping against his chest.

“You smell so good,” Lysander groaned, one finger slipping into you as his thumb rubbed circles around your clit. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re wet. Can I take care of you?” he rumbled, teeth nipping at your ear. “You already gorged yourself on my blood. How about I fill you up with something else?”

You flushed, fangs sinking into your lower lip. “Please?” you whispered.

His ice blue eyes flashed, and his chest heaved under your hands. “Oh, are we a little desperate?” He smirked, sliding another finger into you, stretching you. “Want me to pull your legs up on my shoulders and keep you here all night?” He chuckled, feeling you pulse around his fingers. “Mmmm, I think your gorgeous body is being pretty honest, sweetheart. Well. I aim to please my Mate.”

You only had a moment to wonder when he’d managed to get his pants off. His fingers slid out of you, only for you to feel his cock rest heavily against your entrance. He slid against you, and you could feel a dribble of precum smear across your skin. One hand went to your waist, holding you, while his other found your clit again.

“Is this alright, sweetheart?” he asked, voice low and suddenly soft. “I’m a bit of a stretch. I’ll try to go slow.”

With how wet you were, you sincerely doubted that he would find much of a problem. Still, you swallowed and nodded, grateful for his care and the way he tried, every step of the way, to make sure you were comfortable. Then again, you could already tell he wasn’t lying about how big he was. You could feel him resting against you, throbbing against your thigh. Slowly, he pressed just the tip into you, his breath shuddering.

Your lips parted in a gasp as he stretched you open, sliding into you. Compared to the chill of your body, his cock practically radiated heat. By the time he completely bottomed out, pelvis flush against yours, you’d already come so close to the edge, drool slipping from the corners of your lips. He seemed to completely fill you, pressing up against every spot inside of you until you swore he’d stretched you into his shape.

Lysander slumped over you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. His entire body shuddered, and his hands clenched around your waist. His chest heaved against yours, muscles flexing as though he were physically holding himself back.

“Thank you.” The shaky whisper pooled against your skin. “For saving her. Giving your life for her. Thank you. For choosing me.”

Your fingers slid into his salt and pepper hair, relishing the stubble against your neck and shoulder. “I love you.” The confession spilled from your lips, quiet in the room.

He shuddered, letting out a low moan. His fingers clenched, just as he pulled you down further onto his cock, pressing up into you. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Lysander,” you repeated obediently, wholly truthful. Your core clenched around him, and he hissed, pulling out to thrust back into you.

“I love you,” he groaned, starting to thrust in a slow but steady rhythm. He reached down, then pulled your legs up around his hips. The new angle made you pulse as he seemed to reach impossibly deeper into you, angling up justenough to hit that one spot inside you that had you gasping and arching.

“You’re so tight,” he growled, picking up the pace. “Feels so good, sweetheart. So good.”

He suddenly reached behind you and grabbed a pillow, then lifted your hips up to prop it under you. Setting you back down, he shifted himself up and pulled your legs up to his shoulders.

A cry left your lips, utterly wrecked and broken. His cock completely filled you, fucking any semblance of coherence out of you, going so deep you swore you could feel it in your stomach. He seemed to know exactly how to read your body, adjusting to every whimper you let out, not giving you a break as he kept pounding into you with devastating precision.

“You feeling good, sweetheart?” he chuckled, the sound raking down your spine. “Is this what you want?” He thumbed your clit, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You gonna give Mor a little sibling? Taking me so well like this, spread open for me?”

The thought of adding more kids to your life, together with Lysander, proved to be the last straw for your poor mind. You came, stars bursting behind your eyelids as you cried out his name and the wave of heat and pleasure washed through your body.

And Lysander just kept fucking you through it, going harder as he pinned you against the sheets under him, not caring that your fingers raked against his shoulders. He bent to kiss you, murmuring your name in a husky voice that just wrecked you even more. He gave you no mercy, his gaze predatory as he stared down at you, soaking in your ruined expression.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Cum for me,” he murmured, coaxing you through your high.

Even when you rode it out, he didn’t slow down or let up the pace. “You gonna make me cum, darling? Can I cum inside you?”

A plea staggered off of your lips, followed by his name. Your jumbled, blissed-out mind wouldn’t allow you to do anything else, barely recalling your own name.

“Fuck— gonna cum, sweetheart— gonna fill you up—“ He let out a moan before his hips slammed into you one last time. He ground against you as he came, his bruising grip not letting you move an inch away from him.

You melted back into the bed, eyes closing as you soaked in the feeling of his seed filling you, pouring into you. Your fingers slid up the back of his neck as you lay there, docile and welcoming to his every move. Even when he’d finally stopped spilling into you, your stomach full and hot, he slumped against you.

His lips slid across your throat, soft and almost reverent, and he pulled you into his body. He murmured soft endearments into your ear, his hands running over you with gentle, loving strokes, soothing you.

“I promise I’ll do my best to protect you, treat you the way you should be,” he promised. “I love you so much, sweetheart.” Then he chuckled, hand running over your stomach. “I wonder if Morrigan will want a brother or a sister. She’s already going to be so excited to call you Mommy.”

You gave him a shy smile, accepting his soft kiss. “Thank you, Lysander,” you whispered. “I love you.”

Perhaps the price of your Fate had been high, you thought, but it had been entirely worth it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

[libraford]

The short version: We had a serial thief at the flower shop. She’s retired recently and I think that due to Covid she really means it this time. 

The long version? hoooo boy, here we go.

This story, and others, are viewable on Tablo

There are rules and there are rules.

In dealing with shoplifting in retail, there are rules on how one engages with a thief. The handbook, if there were one, would consist of a single word. 

Don't. 

Don't pursue, don't interrogate, don't accuse. Let them take the merchandise, let them get away. Let them return the Cricut machine for an equivalent amount on a gift card to be exchanged once again for drugs. 

Let them. 

There is no handbook on how to handle Flower Thieves. Prior to working in a flower shop, I never thought that this was a problem. 

Life is surprising. 

 I'm sure some of you have figured that out by now. 

The Flower Thief is notorious, and she has a system. There are days when you simply know that she's going to be in. 

"Break the heads off the flowers before you throw them away," Grandpa will say. "She's going to be here tonight, I think." 

And sure enough, she would be. At 6:45, a quarter til we close- the Thief would announce her arrival. Loudly. 

"Heeeeey, baaaaaaby!" 

The very first time I encountered the Flower Thief, she came in through the back door. 

"Oh Hiiiii, Darlin'- ain't seen your face around here: you must be NEW! I'm Wren, you know- like the bird? Well, Kyle and I have an agreement that I come and work for y'all sometimes. You should take out this trash, it stinks to high heaven. Anyways, nice talkin' to ya, see ya later." 

I may only be a little bit psychic, but I've spent enough time around liars to know insincerity when I see it. Kyle, at the time, was the manager of our store and I have it on record that he's tried to throw her out of the building once or twice. 

While I was taking out the trash, her pile of purchase became so tall it towered over her. I watched Clark massively undercharge her for the sake of getting her to go away. 

She has a pattern.

She comes in during the design classes because she knows that when there's twenty people in the store, there's not enough people to watch her and make sure she's not stealing. "There's a class today," she asks as if it's not literally every Tuesday. "Don't worry I know you all wanna get out of here on time." 

The Flower Thief announces her presence in a grand way and then makes her way to the back to grab a trash bag or an empty box and then proceeds to bury any spare parts she finds in the cooler in the trash bag, hiding them under the things that she's actually buying. 

After that, she checks the garbage cans for things we might have thrown away that will last another three days and stuffs them underneath her other ill-gotten goods. 

Just when you think she's finished, she'll go through her pile of flowers and say: "You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus." And she'll go back into the cooler with it, stuff it in her purse, and walk back to the register. 

And when she's all done being sneaky, she asks one of us to come ring her out. 

This is the part that no one wants to do. Because ringing out the Flower Thief means haggling with the Flower Thief. 

"Oh baaby, you know I don't pay those prices." 

"Oh baaaby, I only pay $19 for roses." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaby, those carnations were on special." 

She'll talk you down to under $100 with a sob story: 

"Oh baaaaby, you know I'm donating this spray to the family. It's for that woman you know- you know the one. She got herself murdered a couple nights ago? Two children and she was pregnant too! Pregnant! Can you believe it? Who murders someone with child? What's the world coming to? So I need a good discount to make sure we treat this family right because they got a looooong road ahead of them." 

"Oh baaaaaaby, you know this one's for that car crash over on Cleveland Avenue? I hear he was taking care of his dying father himself, so it's such a shame for him to go first like that." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaby, this is for that little boy that shot himself, isn't that sad?" 

Thank you, Sister Mary Loquacious. 

And you nod because you don't want to come off as an uncaring sociopath. And while you're nodding and adjusting the price for her sad, sad consequence and mulling over how good she is for donating to these people in their time of need, she steals some greens from the trash can and sticks them in her bag. 

She hands you crisp $100 bills. You check them and she makes jokes about how she printed them this morning. They're legit. Counterfeiting isn't why she went to prison. 

What she went to prison for was drug trafficking. 

"Do you need some help," you ask, trying to be a good citizen. 

"Oh no, I got it," she insists. "I'll make it in two trips. I'm stronger than I look!" 

And don't you dare get caught looking to see what she put in the bag or she will give you one hell of a lecture. 

By the time all of this has passed, the class will be over and there will two minutes left in the work day. She's spent thirty-seven minutes in the store. Your register is unbalanced because now you don't have enough small bills to balance it and only have one $100 bill to get you through tomorrow. 

And that's why there are rules. 

On occasion, a new person will break the rules not knowing that there's rules. One such occasion was when Clair decided to be helpful. 

"You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus," Wren said. 

"Oh! I'll put it back for you," Clair suggested. And before Wren could protest, it was out of Wren's hands and nowhere near her purse. 

It was mentioned to Sage, who only worked for us one summer, that Wren had failed to pay for something and she immediately chased her out into the street. 

Wren drives very fast. 

If you cross her too many times, she'll make sure you never forget it. One day, she stomped her way in through the front door, angry. 

"You ain't treated me better than a damn THIEF," screamed the Flower Thief. 

Grandpa, who was helping Blue make a wedding bouquet at the time, departed from the desk. "Beg pardon?"

"A thief! You been treating me like a thief ever since they made you manager and I'm sick of it! I see you bringing in your henchmen, following me in the cooler, chasing me down the street. Treat me with some damn respect." 

Words were exchanged. They were not kind. We thought we'd seen the end of her. 

But she was back one week later, doing the same damn thing. 

So now there are rules. 

If you make something and there's an excess of flowers left over from the pack, you have to make something out of the leftovers or she'll pick through them and stuff them in her bag. 

If you cannot make something out of them, you must throw them out. 

If you throw them out, you must break the heads off first. 

The trash cans must be emptied every night before 5:00. 

We do not keep trash bags in plain sight. 

Break down all empty boxes, or she will use them in place of trash bags. 

Do not leave any food or drink where she can find it. 

Do not leave any half-used rolls of floral tape where she can find it. 

Do not let her know anything about you- lest she use it against you. 

If you speak of a Thief, you summon a Thief- speak quietly, and never her name or you invite trouble. 

The basic rules one makes when dealing with pests. Or fairy-folk.

There are rules and there are rules and there are rules. 

If you want to keep a pest away, you make these sorts of rules. But if you want to get rid of a pest indefinitely, you have to remove their food source. And Wren's food source was her discount. 

You start exercising your right to say 'no' to a customer in small ways. 

She saw a bunch of carnations in the trash and said: 

"Oh baby, these are still good! I'll take them off your hands for you!" 

"They've been sitting without water for hours." 

"They're still good!" 

"They were out in the sun." 

"Oh baby, I've been working with flowers for 40 years and I know that these will still be fine for a couple of days!" She picks a bunch of them out of the trash and shoves it in my face. "See, it's still stiff- it's still good!" 

"Okay," I said. And before I could stop myself: "Full price."

Her eyes just about popped out of her skull. If it were just a little bit colder, I would have been able to see steam coming out of her ears. 

We stared at each other for about a minute, waiting for the other to flinch. She took the bunch away from my face and threw them back into the trash. While she was in the cooler, I took the liberty of snapping the heads off of them and burying them further into the garbage. 

And so began a war between the flower shop and the Flower Thief.

She came in: every single night. And each night, she got me. 

Again.

"Oh no, baby! These carns are supposed to be 39 cents a stem. I can bring up the email." 

"Sure." She brings up the email. "I see that they are 39 cents but... this was for Saturday." 

"Yea, and I bought those carns on Saturday and you charged me full price!" 

"Saturday." 

"Yeah." 

"You didn't buy these on Saturday. You bought them Friday." 

"Well I didn't know that they'd be on sale, so I need them for that price because I didn't know they'd be on sale." 

"The sales are one-day only. I can't adjust a sale from Friday to reflect Saturday's sale... on Sunday." 

She made a noise that reminds me somewhat of a cement mixer. 

 And again.

"I got a bad banner last time, can you print me a new one?" She shows me the banner in question. It's white. The 't' and the 'h' in 'mother' ran together. 

"Sure." 

"Okay, I need it to say 'Beloved Mother' and I want it in pink." 

"Sure." 

I print it. I ring her up $5. 

"Oh baaaaaaby, no, that one should be free." 

"Grandpa said- banners start at $5." 

"Oh, but you sold me a bad one last time." 

"We haven't sold you a banner in three weeks. How long have y'all had that body sitting in your cooler?" 

She grumbled, and paid. 

 And again. 

"I swear you been workin' every night this week! You must be tired," she said, nerves plain in her voice. "When do you get a day off?" 

"When the work is done." 

"That ain't what I'm askin'. When's your next day off, baby?"

"I stop working when the work is done, Wren." 

She narrows her eyes, which is a fun change from them bugging out of her skull like a fruit fly. "You don't ever get any days off?" 

"When the work stops, I rest."

 And again. 

"I'll be in and out, I know y'all want to get out of here on time," she said- announcing her presence to the entire class. She piled her stuff across the register counter and Grandpa began ringing her up. 

"Oh baby..." 

"No. We're doing away with the discounts." 

There are twenty people in the workshop for the class and Grandpa doesn't want to make a scene. She pulls her into the back, and I choose to make my instructions louder to mask the sound of them yelling. 

"So you're going to take your hypericum berries and you're going to cut the stem to about ten inches-" 

"How can you do this to me?" 

"And you're going to slowly fill the vase with these berries to kind of set the shape of the arrangement." 

"After all these years and this is how you treat me?" 

"Fun fact- you might know hypericum berries as their more common name: St John's Wort! St. John's Wort has been used as a medication for depression prior to modern medicine." You see- I, too, have taken notes from the Chattering Order.

"You can't do this to me," Wren said, stamping her feet like a toddler.

"But I wouldn't recommend eating them. However, they do smell somewhat like baked brown sugar." 

Stamp, stamp, stamp. 

Wren threw herself into the cooler and began putting a bulk of her flowers back. 

"This is robbery," I heard her say to Grandpa at the register. 

"Is it now?" 

 And again. 

She came in and immediately reached for a half-empty box of oasis bricks (the green sponge material that we use to hold flowers.) She said few words to me, few at all. She talked to Carrie about how she was going out to the country for awhile, to take care of her nephew's property. She needed to stock up. And oh- don't worry about it, she knows what she's doing. She's part of The Family.

She is in no manner of speaking, a member of The Family that owns this shop. Not even a third cousin. 

I saw her beeline for a rose I'd set in the trash. I picked it up, opened my mouth, and bit the head off of it. She stood in the middle of the workshop, absolutely stunned. 

Rose petals have the vague texture of arugula, by the way. Slightly sweeter, though. Tough to swallow in one go. 

She ran back into the cooler and didn't talk to me. 

I began taking down numbers. 

27 bricks of oasis. One pack of roses. Ten calla lilies. 1/2 pack of assorted greens. 

I punched the numbers in to the register. As if sensing something was amiss, she emerged from the cooler. 

"$54? What do I have that's $54?" 

"The oasis. They're $2 each." 

"Oh no baaaaaby, they're $1." 

"I can text Grandpa and ask her." 

"... that won't be necessary. Why are you charging me $22.50 for roses? You know my prices by now!" 

"22.50 is the price for a pack of roses." 

"22.50 is everybody prices." 

"Welcome to 'everybody.'" 

"I ain't paid a price increase in 7 years!" 

"The price of milk went up, Wren. So does everything else." 

She was seeing red, I knew it. There's a vein in her forehead that pops out when she's angry and it's the same shape as the river that runs through my home town. She sized me up, as if wondering if she could take me. 

I'm 256 pounds of 4H beef, and I have a knife. Try me. 

"I'm gonna call Kyle on this." 

"Do it." A lifetime of retail has made me immune to 'I'd like to speak to the manager.' 

She grumbled and put things back. Carrie offered to watch her, I held up my hand. 

"Can you do something for me  on these carns? They're the last pack in there and they're lookin' kinda ratty." 

"9.50." 

"9.50's the regular price." 

"Regular price is $14." 

"No it ain't." 

"Is today. You're taking our last pack and we need those for funerals." 

She put them back. 

She gave me a credit card. It seemed fake, but it ran. Every time I see here, she's got a different card. Did she print this one this morning, too? At least she stopped trying to sell me on Bitcoin. As you can see, it made her incredibly wealthy. 

She gathered her things and left. "Guess I'm getting the rest of my flowers from KROGER!" 

There are things you want to say. Like... I hope they enjoy your company just as much as we do. Or: Haven't graced them with your presence in awhile, huh? But at the time, it was better just to watch her leave with her minuscule bunch of flowers. I get a choice in where I loan my voice. 

Not here. 

Is it over? Nah. She'll be back for another round. But one day she'll finally retire in the way that she's always threatened to. And then? Then it can be as over as it ever will be. 

It is shocking to come from a history of retail, where you're not allowed to even hint at the idea of a customer being wrong, where you have to override every single price change to get the scores up, where you have to just let them steal your things and pull the wool over your eyes... 

... to flat-out telling someone 'no.' 

"No." 

It's such a great word. 

There are rules and there are rules. 

And there are thieves that the rules are made for. 

And there are words like 'no.' 

And all those things are magic in very human ways. 

[edenmemes]

skyward sword sentence starters

more to be added !

❝ you promised to meet me before it starts, remember? ❞ ❝ you seem pretty...relaxed about the whole thing. ❞ ❝ is something wrong? what’s the hurry? ❞ ❝ sometimes i just don’t know what’s going on in your head. ❞ ❝ i'm not like you. i fail at everything i try. ❞ ❝ a shrimpy boy like you hardly looks the part of a hero. ❞ ❝ swatting a few monsters will be no trouble for you. ❞ ❝ run and play this time. get in my way again, though, and you’re dead. ❞ ❝ don’t even pretend that was an accident! ❞ ❝ do you doubt these eyes? i look upon your shirt and i see a single thread loose on your sleeve stitching. ❞ ❝ this is no place for one such as you. and yet here you stand. ❞ ❝ i need to vent all this unhealthy anger,     and your agony is such a great stress reliever. ❞ ❝ remember what we discussed. restrain yourself. focus on the task at hand. ❞ ❝ do my words anger you? do my words sting? let them. ❞ ❝ you don’t come by here just to see me, do you? ❞ ❝ what’s wrong? you just made a face like you wanted to say something. ❞ ❝ oh, i get it. you’re trying to weasel out of having to practice. ❞ ❝ i guess it’s not all bad. at least i’m getting paid. ❞ ❝ there’s something i’ve been meaning to talk to you about.... ❞ ❝ would you wake up, straighten up, and grow a backbone already? ❞ ❝ nice try, but you’re not fooling me. ❞ ❝ i...i have to go. i’m sorry. ❞ ❝ folks were always cheering me on like it was a parade. but as you know, time passes. ❞ ❝ you keep some very strange company, friend. ❞ ❝ i don’t know if it’s safe yet...i’m going to stay here awhile longer. ❞ ❝ oh no. you’ve done it now! there’s no escaping this one! ❞ ❝ so, what now? are you going to cry? ❞ ❝ i can’t begin to tell you how sorry i am for pulling you into all of this. ❞ ❝ what is wrong with you? just look at what you’ve done! ❞ ❝ what we’ve seen here today defies explanation. ❞ ❝ you put up more of a fight than i would have thought possible out of such a soft person. ❞ ❝ did you really just draw your sword? foolish. ❞ ❝ should you heed the call of destiny,     i don’t know what dangers you may have to face. ❞ ❝ i can’t help being such a coward...i’m really sorry. ❞ ❝ i fear i spent far too long teasing and toying with you. ❞ ❝ you do your people proud. ❞ ❝ how long do we have to live in constant fear? ❞ ❝ i'll just beat you within an inch of your life! ❞ ❝ dawn is drawing near. it has been a long night for the both of us, hasn’t it? ❞ ❝ you were limp and unconscious. i feared the worst. ❞ ❝ what do you think you’re doing sneaking out with that? ❞ ❝ such a beautiful day, but we’re too busy to enjoy it. some things never change. ❞ ❝ i guess you’ll never learn unless you run into trouble one day. ❞ ❝ look at my face. if that’s your idea of a joke, i’m not laughing. ❞ ❝ you appeared to be relishing that snooze, so i declined to wake you. ❞ ❝ huh? oh, uh, nothing. really, i was, uh...talking to myself. ❞ ❝ you’re looking a little pale... ❞ ❝ i imagine you and i will cross paths again. until then, do not lower your guard. ❞ ❝ you certainly are persistent... ❞ ❝ all that may be well intentioned and true, but it doesn’t mean it’s right. ❞ ❝ i’m prepared to pay the price for what i’ve done. ❞ ❝ i had no idea we were fated to carry such a heavy destiny. ❞ ❝ i need your strength to tip the scales in our favor. ❞ ❝ all this training, and no results! ❞ ❝ all i’ve hears so far is a bunch of babbling about destiny,     but that’s a load of garbage. ❞ ❝ when night draws her tenebrous curtain across the sky, i come here. ❞ ❝ what in the world just happened? did you use some kind of magic? ❞ ❝ please, see it through and prove the legends true. ❞ ❝ i was happy just spending my days hanging around with you. i wanted that feeling to last forever. ❞ ❝ you are vital to a mission of great importance. ❞ ❝ the chances of that happening are just about less than zero. ❞ ❝ i hate to break it to you, but today’s the day i bust up this adorable little fantasyland you’re living in. ❞ ❝ this is a war, and the fate of the land hangs in the balance. ❞ ❝ i know you, and you’re no hero. ❞ ❝ you’re messing with me. say it again, i dare you. ❞ ❝ you float through life with your head in the clouds. ❞ ❝ i don’t do charity for wimps. ❞ ❝ what���s this...? what is it that my eyes behold? ❞ ❝ don’t even think about it! are we clear? ❞ ❝ the point is your work here is done. i got it covered from here. ❞ ❝ my eyes foresee a hazardous, thorny road ahead for you... ❞ ❝ you...this is your fault, you know. ❞ ❝ my heart is bursting with thoughts of you. ❞ ❝ i have a serious dilemma on my mind right now, and you’re distracting me. ❞ ❝ i’ll make you proud. you’ll see! ❞ ❝ feels dangerous. something could jump out at us at any moment. ❞ ❝ we’re talking about a tale that’s been passed down over a lot of years, so i wouldn’t put much stock in it. ❞ ❝ i have the right to experience an unfettered and passionate love, don’t i? ❞ ❝ i’ll tell you, it gives even a big guy like me the creeps. ❞ ❝ oh...how can i get you to notice me? ❞ ❝ i get the feeling nothing i can say will talk you out of it. ❞ ❝ my love for you is wider than the horizon and deeper than the clouds. ❞ ❝ trust my piercing eyes...listen to my pure and innocent voice. ❞ ❝ i feel so excited, so cheerful, so full of life. ❞ ❝ i sense a silent power dwelling somewhere in your frame. ❞ ❝ this turn of events has left me with a strong appetite for bloodshed. ❞ ❝ there’s no doubting it. the gears of fate have begun to turn. ❞ ❝ i'm sorry. i was lost in thought there for a moment. ❞ ❝ don’t men open doors for a lady anymore? how long am i supposed to stand here waiting for a little chivalry? ❞ ❝ i hate even saying this, but i guess you got it all figured out. ❞ ❝ you must not push yourself. you’re still recovering. ❞ ❝ you think you’re pretty suave, don’t you? ❞ ❝ i know you’re in a hurry, so i really appreciate you taking the time to help. ❞ ❝ i saw it, but i was able to escape by the seat of my pants. ❞ ❝ do you have any idea how that made me feel inside? furious! outraged! sick with anger! ❞ ❝ you’re really something else. i could never imagine myself doing what you’re about to do. ❞ ❝ i must aid you in fulfilling the great destiny that is your burden to carry. ❞ ❝ i should have believed you...i’m sorry. ❞ ❝ lately, when i think about you, my head gets all fuzzy, my heart races, i get short of breath, and i feel all dizzy... ❞ ❝ you should know better than that to fret about me. ❞ ❝ thanks for jumping in there to rescue me. ❞ ❝ hey, hold on there! what are you trying to pull all of a sudden? ❞ ❝ your face cries out in earnest wonder, and that cry is: ‘what’s this?!’ ❞ ❝ i promise up front not to murder you. ❞ ❝ you...didn’t hear any of that, did you? there’s no way you heard, right? ❞ ❝ i tell you, all sorts of weird things are going on lately. ❞ ❝ calamitous visions appear before me... ❞ ❝ you...make me so happy...i think i’m going to keel over... ❞ ❝ i wanted you to be the first to see me like this. ❞ ❝ i can’t imagine a more fitting color for you. it’s as though you were born to wear it. ❞ ❝ i bet you can’t even decide what to have for lunch on your own, huh? ❞ ❝ amazing, right? wrong! it is beyond amazing! ❞ ❝ it can’t be easy for you, can it? ❞ ❝ you’ll see in time that you have your own role to play in all this. ❞ ❝ trust in fate to guide your feet. ❞ ❝ i bet you’re here just to check me out, right? ❞ ❝ i just hope nothing has happened. i’m worried sick thinking about it. ❞ ❝ whoa...you’re kind of imploding my mind right now. ❞ ❝ if you wanna live again one day, you should head for home. ❞ ❝ you have a great journey before you, and those clothes...they don’t look up to the task. ❞ ❝ did you manage to get even a wink of sleep last night? ❞ ❝ ever heard of banging your knuckles against the door? it’s called knocking. ❞ ❝ so, uh...yeah. just how long have you been standing there? ❞ ❝ honestly, it’s almost as though you become a completely different person when you worry about me. ❞ ❝ you showing up here must mean we’re connected somehow. like fate. ❞ ❝ sorry to put you through that. i guess i owe you one now. ❞ ❝ to tell you the truth, i’m feeling a little frustrated, and right now i just need someone to vent to. ❞ ❝ what’s with you? leave me alone if you don’t want anything. ❞ ❝ hearing that is such a...huge weight off my mind. ❞ ❝ though your journey will put you in harms way, you must endure. ❞ ❝ i'm just deadweight. what kinda use is that to anyone... ❞ ❝ seriously, what is that thing over there?! ❞ ❝ before i say another word, i feel like i owe you an apology. ❞ ❝ during your long journey, you’ve grown so much. ❞ ❝ from the moment i laid my eyes on you, i could tell you had a gentle and generous heart. ❞ ❝ oh dear...i don’t know what’s come over me all of a sudden... ❞ ❝ you don’t appear to have any serious injuries. for that much we can be grateful. ❞ ❝ i can see into those dopey eyes of yours. ❞ ❝ i can finally smile and laugh again! thank you ever so much. ❞ ❝ i think i might of broke something. ❞ ❝ is that it? i thought it was going to put up more of a fight. ❞ ❝ i thought we were goners this time. sort of glad i was wrong about that. ❞ ❝ what? i don’t seem like my usual self? ❞ ❝ this place needs a name. a name fitting for this rugged, adventurous wilderness. ❞ ❝ what were you thinking? you scared a year off my life! ❞ ❝ care to explain just what you meant by ‘our special moment alone’? ❞ ❝ my advice? work hard and wish with all your heart. ❞ ❝ say, you look all flustered. ❞ ❝ i fear we can’t dwell on our success. ❞ ❝ the world is bursting with undiscovered surprises, isn’t it? ❞ ❝ you're not exactly mr/mrs.perfect either, are you? ❞ ❝ this is easily as scary as i thought it would be. ❞ ❝ i swear this neighborhood’s getting crummier every day. ❞ ❝ you ain’t as dumb as you look. ❞ ❝ i was going to ask if you wanted me to take care of you forever... ❞ ❝ i need to learn how to keep these delirious dreams in check. ❞ ❝ maybe you should forget about everything that happened here tonight. ❞ ❝ can you imagine a more gruesome fate? ❞ ❝ there are more monsters about than before, so be careful. ❞ ❝ human desire is an insatiable, fearsome thing. ❞ ❝ i sense an evil presence on the other side of this door. ❞ ❝ you understand, don’t you? i’m not wrong about this, am i? ❞ ❝ i never wanted to lay eyes on you again. ❞ ❝ i would have gotten discouraged if you hadn’t come by to cheer me on. you gave me motivation. ❞ ❝ who do you think you are, getting involved in my business like that? ❞ ❝ i just wish there was more i could do for you... ❞ ❝ i don’t even understand how you could make such a wild accusation! ❞ ❝ it was at that moment i finally realized. i realized that...i love you. ❞ ❝ make sure you come home every now and then. nothing like a good sleep in your own bed. ❞ ❝ you’d better not keep me waiting. ❞ ❝ make sure you put your heart into it! i won’t stand for anything but your best. ❞ ❝ how could you be swayed by the temptation of material gain?     do you have no honor? ❞ ❝ you really want to hear about all my troubles? that’s kind of you. ❞ ❝ you...weren’t supposed to see that whole spectacle. how embarrassing... ❞ ❝ you have only succeeded in buying us a little more time. ❞ ❝ watch it! that’s no way to talk to someone who just saved your life! ❞ ❝ you look like you need to get something off your chest. ❞ ❝ know that all the questions you have now will be answered in time. ❞ ❝ there is nothing natural about these tremors. ❞ ❝ you might just be the person i need! you seem pretty good with the ladies. ❞ ❝ it’s great to hear you’re so confident in me. ❞ ❝ ideal love is unfettered and passionate. anything less than that can’t really be called love at all. ❞ ❝ you're incessant buzzing around my head like some irksome gadfly when i’m this busy is...making me very disagreeable. ❞ ❝ you may not have noticed, but i’m trying to hide here.     could you please scoot along? ❞ ❝ you'd better keep your eyes to yourself, if you know what i mean. ❞ ❝ have you come to laugh at me in my miserable state? ❞ ❝ you...you came to see me! i’m so happy. ❞ ❝ your job is simple! you make sure none of these monsters lays a claw on me. not...one...claw. ❞ ❝ now is not the time to be picky about who will help you. ❞ ❝ watch carefully while i demonstrate what a real hero looks like. ❞ ❝ you are something else! there is nothing you cannot do. ❞ ❝ if you think about how often we meet, you have to admit that our relationship has gone beyond friendship, you know? ❞ ❝ i’ll make the affair so excruciating, you’ll deafen yourself with the shrill sound of your own screams. ❞ ❝ i was right, then. there is something special about you. ❞ ❝ i should have reprimanded you the last time we met, but instead i was...soft. ❞ ❝ ha-ha! you didn’t see that coming, did you? ❞ ❝ you really are a snake in the grass. ❞ ❝ you are indeed worthy of being called a hero. ❞ ❝ i’m not used to getting stared at like this. it’s making me blush. ❞ ❝ i can’t hide anything from you, can i? ❞ ❝ the longer i train, the more i realize i’ll never measure up to you. ❞ ❝ whoa...you took out every last one of them. ❞ ❝ i know how bad this must look to you right now, but i assure you i mean no harm. ❞ ❝ it’s all very strange, but i doubt there’s much of a connection between these things. ❞ ❝ you're a weird one, climbing all the way up here. ❞ ❝ don’t cry --- it’s perfectly, mostly safe! ❞ ❝ you and i, we’re bound by that thread of fate. destined to fight. ❞ ❝ meet me in battle, and the thread of fate that binds us will be soaked crimson with your blood. ❞ ❝ i do not wish to dwell on what may have happened if you hadn’t been here. ❞ ❝ you have awakened a wrath that will burn for eons! ❞ ❝ you really like those fantasy stories, eh? ❞ ❝ there is one teensy, tiny thing i lack...namely, mercy. ❞ ❝ i must warn you, i won’t go easy on you this time. ❞ ❝ i might be willing to forgive and forget if you’ll strike a deal. ❞ ❝ since i know i can be honest with you, i’ll admit i got a little sulky. it was frowns all around. ❞ ❝ i see you’re still among the living. ❞ ❝ i saw them dragging you off unconscious, so i tailed them. ❞ ❝ i want you to visit me at my house tonight. ❞ ❝ you don’t have to say a word. i can see how you feel by the spark in your eye. ❞ ❝ you’ll see. i’ll be as tough as you in no time. ❞ ❝ it’s not like ‘oh, hey, that person’s back! i’m so happy!’ or anything like that... ❞ ❝ whoa...that’s some really terrible handwriting. ❞ ❝ i would very much like it if you would go out with me. ❞ ❝ truly? you choose me? ❞ ❝ i swear to you, whatever it takes, i will drag you into an eternity of torment. ❞ ❝ you and i, we’re bound by a thread of fate. ❞ ❝ i’ll watch over you, protecting you from afar. ❞ ❝ until then, we’ll keep our love secret. ❞ ❝ this news has just filled my heart with rainbows! ❞ ❝ this place seems strangely familiar... ❞ ❝ don’t you gotta take care of your own business first? ❞ ❝ they’re not going to do anything nice if they catch you. ❞ ❝ it’s not humane to tease someone this bored. ❞ ❝ i’m not some sideshow for you to gawk at. ❞ ❝ it’s weird to say out loud, but that’s just how i feel right now. ❞ ❝ you can’t break me with interrogation. you’ll never make me talk. ❞ ❝ word is there’s a huge treasure hidden in these here ruins... ❞ ❝ what? that’s not weird to say! ❞ ❝ ...i understand your true feelings. better than you know. ❞ ❝ all the fairytales that we heard growing up...they appear all too real. ❞ ❝ do i look sad? no, i’m doing what i want to do! ❞ ❝ i don’t know what came over me! i had no clue i had the talent to make something like this. ❞ ❝ you shouldn’t be out here in the open with no way to defend yourself. ❞ ❝ you do have the tendency to cause trouble for those you ‘help’. ❞ ❝ as far as i’m concerned, i got nothing but time. ❞ ❝ don’t you play coy with me. i know that you know, so why not let me in on the fun? ❞ ❝ so you really think a sob story like that is going to work on me? what a joke. ❞ ❝ i’d take pleasure in punishing you, but i have no time for recreation. ❞ ❝ sorry to leave you on your own, but you look like you can handle it. ❞ ❝ remember --- it’s a secret to everybody. ❞ ❝ it isn’t as action packed as what you’re doing, but maybe this is my destiny. ❞ ❝ don’t you just love the way it smells down here? ❞ ❝ defending the land...it’s my purpose, i think. it’s why i’m here. ❞ ❝ what do i know...you might just surprise me. ❞ ❝ fibber! you’re a fibbity fibber! ❞ ❝ you needn’t even say it. i can tell from the look of sheer astonishment on your face. ❞ ❝ you have had this destiny thrust upon you without warning...    or choice, for that matter. ❞ ❝ don’t do anything heroic and get yourself caught. ❞ ❝ ...you want to tell me but you can’t? ❞ ❝ you know, i really worry about you. it’s a weakness of mine. ❞ ❝ try not to get in the way of my shots, ok? ❞ ❝ i haven’t slept a wink in...ahhh...i don’t even know how long. ❞ ❝ i had my suspicions, but until now i wasn’t sure. ❞ ❝ you seem a good deal stronger than the last time we met. ❞ ❝ i would be remiss if i didn’t let you know of the weight on my heart. ❞ ❝ i have a reputation to protect, you know. ❞ ❝ listen closely. do you hear that? ❞

[sortasirius]

“Unity” and the Broken Boys

BOY Y’ALL BETTER SIT DOWN BECAUSE THIS IS AS LONG AS CAN BE AND I TOOK OFF WORK TOMORROW SO I’VE GOT TIME

This is....one of the best episodes in the show.  Yeah, in all 325 of them, this is hands down one of the best.

First of all, stan Amara for clear skin.

That silent treatment babey, right out the gate with the Angst.  Tbh Dean deserves it.

“Like I said, killing Amara, Jack dying...that’s the only way.”

“The only way.  Our one shot.  Our Last chance.  You ever get tired of saying stuff like that?”

“We don’t have to like it, alright?  But you and me, we gotta get it done.”

Amara is such a welcome energy in this whole episode.  She’s warm and understanding, whip-smart and probably more powerful than Chuck.  I love her.

Sam is a wonderful, understanding, loving dad.  I love him eternally.  He loves Jack so much, he’s trying so desperately to do what’s right for Jack but also what’s right for the world.  Jack made this choice, but he can’t live with it.  How do you support your child when their life is at stake?

“Come on man.  Blindly following orders, lying to Amara, sending her to her death. Does any of this feel right to you??”

“It doesn’t matter how we feel!  You know what?  Stay.  Stay.  Someone has to be the grown up here.”

“Yeah well someone has to keep fighting for Jack!”

“He knows what he signed up for!”

“Last I checked, we don’t give up on family.”

“Jack’s not family.”

Y’all should have heard the noise I made.  What a fucking line.

“I know how you feel about the kid, I care for him too, I do, but he’s not like you.  He’s not like Cas.  He’s just not.”

“I’m- I’m ready.”

You can see the regret, the heartbreak in Dean’s eyes.  You can see how he wants to take those words back the moment he said them, and for Jack to hear them?  It’s unthinkable.

Sam and Cas I’m just so fucking emo dude.

“Sam, you stayed behind to find another way huh?  I woulda done the same.”

AMARA

First of all, LOVE this structure.

Amara and Chuck have such a fascinating dynamic.  Rob and Emily do a great job (as they have all along) by clearly being siblings but...heightened.  You can just tell they both exude power, and the other is the only one they consider an equal.

“You and Dean had that whole weird...thing.”

“That wasn’t you writing?”

“Ugh, not that part.  Gross.”

What I took away from this is what I’ve suspected all along.  They HAVE free will, just not total free will.  Dean and Amara’s connection wasn’t Chuck, there are parts of the story he didn’t write.  Obviously, this comes into play later. 

I also have a hunch that Chuck doesn’t write romance.  I also think that in particular will come into play.

“Balance.  Something we’ve never tried before.  Creation and destruction, light and dark, brother and sister united again, but on behalf of one world, this world.  True balance.  The way it was always meant to be.  But you can’t.  You only care about your pleasure, your story.  Well, I guess that makes you the villain.”

“Villains get all the best lines.”

We see again and again this season, Chuck is irredeemable.  He doesn’t care about the angels, he doesn’t care about the world, he doesn’t care about anything.  He is a petulant toddler who has broken his toys. And when he realizes he’s trapped, he gets angry, he shouts and screams, completely at odds with Amara’s peace.

“You can’t hold me here forever.”

“I can hold you long enough.”

DEAN

Pain is the name of the game in this section homies.  Because not only are we dealing with Dean’s pain, we’re also dealing with Jack’s.  Jack says he understands why Cas and Sam mean more to Dean, but Dean clearly doesn’t, he, once again, wants to say more, but is stopped, still stopped by his fear: his fear of not beating Chuck.

Alright guys, gals, and non-binary pals.  Let’s talk about Adam and Seraphina.

Adam.  The first man.  And Seraphina.  The angel.

“My old lady.  She’s the only one who could put up with me all these years.”

Yeah okay.  Volume at 100 I get it lmao.

But also: Adam wants God dead not because he and Eve were kicked out of the Garden, but because he went after their sons.  The theme of protecting the children strikes again.

“Killing God is your plan?”

“Yeah, Billie’s been giving us a hand but Sera and me, this is our baby.”

This juxtaposed directly with Dean’s own pain at what he has to do to kill Chuck, to gain his free will: the cost of his child.

Adam’s rib.

And who else might get his ribs hurt, only to be likely healed by an angel?

It’s fine, that’s fine.  I’m fine with that.

“Jack, I don’t know how to explain it but, when I found out about Chuck, it’s like I wasn’t alive.  Not really.  You know like my whole life I’ve never been free, but like really free.  But now?  Now me and Sam, we got a shot at living a life, without all this crap on our backs.  And that’s, that’s because of you.  So, I want to say, I need to say...thank you, Jack.  Thank you.”

I’m gonna have to do a separate post about just Dean in this episode, because there is so fucking much to talk about, but there are a couple of things that I think are important:  Dean realizes how wrong he was, to say what he said.  He knows that it’s not true, this is the way he’s always coped with loss, by pushing the person to be lost away, but for Jack to hear it?  He can’t stand for that.

And:

Dean has finally pushed through the barrier.  He won’t be quiet in the face of his doubts anymore.  This is a breakthrough for him, and, of course, there are more to come.

SAM

Sam and Cas, my chaos duo.

The box, the inscription, the door.

Death’s library, filled with dead reapers.

And there it is.  The Empty.

It tells Sam the plan, the plan for Billie to take God’s place.  For everything to go back to the way it’s “supposed to be.”

This has always been the game, since season 13.  This is the longest of long games.

Sam fuckin Winchester, lying his way out of a confrontation with the Empty like the legend that he is.

He comes back with a new purpose: to stop Billie’s plan, and here’s where we get to the heart of the episode and maybe the heart of the season.

“You hear that?  Dean, brought to the edge of doubt.  His sense of duty, his rage winning out in the end.  And poor Sam, always gotta know everything.  Can’t leave well enough alone.  This is my ending, my real ending.”

The gun comes out, pointed at Sam.

Hmm...what did I say during 15x05?  Oh yeah, this.

And:

Dean would never survive killing Sam, but he’s willing to do anything, anything to earn his freedom.  His ending, where one brother kills the other and then kill himself.

Why, you might ask, did Sam not mention that the angels would be sent back to Heaven, why does he not mention Cas?  I’ll tell you why, or rather, Becky will.

Plus, Dean looks back at Cas IMMEDIATELY when Sam says that, when he mentions Eileen, and THAT’S the first time he hesitates.  He can’t lose Cas.  But at the same time, he’s willing to do anything to have his freedom.

“Sam we don’t have a choice, Jack’s about to blow!”

“We always have a choice!”

You know me, just sitting here thinking about choice, the ability to choose, and how that translates to their free will.

And Sam...I don’t think there will ever be characters I love as much as these.

“I don’t care if Billie gets what she wants!  I don’t man, I’d trade it all, I’d trade em all for Chuck.  In a heartbeat!”

“What about me?”

“You’d trade me?”

“Chuck has to die.  He has to!  Otherwise he’ll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can’t live like that man, I can’t live like that, I won’t!”

“I know you feel like that right now, okay? I know you do, but you gotta trust me.  My entire life, you’ve protected me.  From Dad, from Lucifer, from everything.  I didn’t always like it, you know?  But it’s the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on.  It’s the only thing I’ve ever known that was true.  So please, put the gun away.  Just put it away.  We’ll figure it out, Dean, we’ll find another way, you and me.  We always do.”

Okay I feel like this is going to be one of those scenes that I cry watching for years to come.  Because fuck.  After fifteen years they finally admit that not only did Dean protect Sam from Lucifer, but he protected him from John.  John.  On a par with Lucifer.

Dean and Sam have, for so many years, sacrificed themselves for the other.  Dean’s demon deal, Sam and the trials, every season they have fought to see who can die the quickest for the other.  But this?  This is them fighting to stop the violence, to stop from killing the big bad.  This is them growing, in our eyes, in real time.  Sam has always been able to get through to Dean when no one else had a prayer, but for Dean to listen, for Dean to take his words to heart, to stop the hunt for Sam, for their family, that’s how you know they do have free will.

(Btw Chuck’s eye effect when he dusted Amara was sick as fuck but I’m emo for my boys so.)

Chuck knows it’s a loss, he knows that his story has, once again, been thwarted by the boys making their own choices.  And he’s pissed, but in his anger, we get a bomb dropped on us.

“Spare me your contempt Castiel, the self-hating angel of Thursday.  You know what every other version of you did after “gripping him tight and raising him from perdition”?  They did what they were told.  But not you.  Not the one off the line with a crack in his chassis.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

Also, just worth bringing up this one as well:

Every Castiel pulled Dean out of Hell.  Every one told him the same thing.  And yet, immediately, with this Cas and this Dean, something was different.  Because what has everyone seen about Cas, from the moment he met Dean?

And there’s our endgame people.  Laid out on the line.

But we ain’t done yet, fam.

We’ve talked about the handprint, but you know:

So there you have it, our prep into the “monumental” 15x18.  I have spec on that, of course, but I think a novel is long enough for this.

What to take away: Dean’s rage was always Chuck’s plan, they do have free will, their love for each other, for their family, is what will stop Chuck’s control, Death is about to come back with a vengeance, Cas’ deal is at play, and, most importantly, Castiel and Dean Winchester are a blind spot for Chuck, something he has never, not once, controlled.