#it was so easy??? i'm mad that it was that easy

[wyrm-wuud]

Like I'm not here to say she isn't in the wrong because she totally is. Her actions are MAD uncomfortable and downright horrible, there is no excuse but I **do** see the reason why.

She's in extreme grief over her mother and, unfortunately, the people of Zaun are now subject to being her punching bag. It's horrible and she needs a wake up call- she is on one of the most extreme revenge arch's over Jinx when before she use to be a lot more rational and reasonable. She use to have more respect for the people of Zaun, a big part of that simply because of Vi. However, now that Vi isn't in the way to keep her head on.... She's completely lost it and it's driving me insane.

But also like.. Are we not going to acknowledge Ambessa's manipulation tactics that have pushed Caitlyn further over the edge? Are we forgetting Ambessa's *You must be both the fox and the wolf* line? She knows the power behind the Kiramman name and what better way to get it than stage some extremely violent scenarios that exploit Caitlyn's grief. She knows what she's doing!!!! She picked Caitlyn BECAUSE she was an easy target with a big name, she needed a pawn and Caitlyn was perfect.

just some food for thought, I love the writing in this show so I'm just sharing what I noticed.

"We want more complex female characters" you can't even handle an angry, grieving daughter who just had her mother killed by her future wife's sister, shut the fuck up

[lewmagoo]

if you ever get a chance or would like to, do you think you could possibly write a little something based off of the post below with rhett? you write him so well and since you reblogged it earlier, i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it 🤭 (you can totally ignore this if you’d rather not)

ask and ye shall receive!

you couldn't believe he'd let you do this. oh, how far he'd come, from being too proud to admit he liked when you took the reins, to now. thighs spread wide, ankles tied to the legs of the chair, wrists tied the handles. you'd used the roping techniques he'd taught you to bind him to the chair. and you had to admit, he looked so pretty all trussed up for you. entirely naked. cock hard and heavy, resting against his thigh.

he was looking at you, eyes wide, chest heaving. you'd just put on a show of stripping for him, teasing him to no end as you rid yourself of each article of clothing. one thing about rhett was, he loved touching you, so being tied down and forced to watch you show off your beautiful body was torture for him. "just look at you," you mused, as you sauntered toward him. his gaze never left you, not once. "where'd my big, bad cowboy go, hm? earlier you were spittin' mad and running your mouth. but the second i tie you down you turn into a demure little kitten."

you didn't miss the way his cheeks burned red. it was a sight to behold. the shift in his demeanor was clear. gone were his narrowed eyes and tightened jaw, replaced by a wide gaze and a slack mouth. "m-maybe i wanted y' to tie me down," he admitted, throat bobbing as he swallowed. you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. it was too easy. of course he would misbehave on purpose. he craved being put in his place. surrendering the weight of responsibility, if only for a little while, was always what he needed to get his head back on straight.

"yeah? needed me to take control for a little bit?" you cooed, leaning down to kiss him. it was languid and erotic, and he eagerly parted his mouth to let your tongue onside. as you kissed him, you trailed your hand down his chest, across his abdomen, and finally, you settled with it hovering just over his twitching, aching, leaking cock. he gasped against your mouth as he felt the heat of your palm just barely touching him. deciding to tease him further, you resisted touching him fully, waiting to see how he'd react. he grunted low in his chest and tried to push his hips up, chasing your hand.

"please," he gritted out, tugging at his restraints. "don't fuckin' tease me. 'm so hard, i..." he trailed off, tongue loose in his mouth, words slurred. when he got like this, all needy and desperate, that confident swagger left him. he was putty in your hands. you could ask him to do anything, and he'd do it. if only everyone could see him now. big, gruff rhett abbott. begging you to touch his cock. to make him come.

you simply smiled at his begging, ducking down to kiss his forehead. "poor thing." you trailed your fingertip along the underside of that thick shaft, touch featherlight, barely there. he let out a strangled grunt. "you're such a needy little slut." mouth open, he nodded, eyes locked on your hand, silently pleading with you to wrap it around him. with your free hand, you threaded your fingers through his curls and tugged his head back so he was looking at you. "admit it. say what you are."

his mouth opened and closed a few times. his flush had creeped up to his ears now, ruby red. but once again, he'd do anything you asked. "i-i'm your..." his eyes squeezed shut, and he finished off his statement in a whisper. "needy little slut." but that wasn't good enough. you yanked sharply on his hair, and he gasped, jolting against the chair.

if you looked down, you'd see how badly his cock was leaking. "say it louder, so i can hear you," came your command. you took your hand away, and the pathetic whine he let out sent a rush of heat through you. when you noticed his bottom lip quiver, you bit back a victorious smile.

"i'm your needy little slut." he said it loud and clear that time. afraid you'd deny him pleasure if he didn't. he was so painfully hard, and he just needed relief. he knew you weren't above making him get off by himself, or worse, denying him permission to come at all. he was determined to be your good boy so you would give him the release he needed.

"there you go, such a good boy," came your praise. you wrapped your hand fully around that gorgeous cock of his, and he let out a broken moan, his head lolling back and his lashes fluttering. you looked down, biting your lip as you swirled your thumb around his tip, gathering the slick trail of pre-cum that glistened there. "you're so wet. just leaking all over the place," you mused.

"c-can't help it," he grunted, hips rolling up. the squelch of his own arousal was an obscene sound. he might've been embarrassed about it if he wasn't so fucked out already. and then he watched you kneel before him, and he swore he'd lose his mind entirely. you held eye contact with him as you opened your mouth and swirled your tongue around him. when you began to inch down, he gripped at the arms of the chair, bracing himself. being enveloped in your warm, wet mouth was otherworldly.

"since you did what i asked, i'm gonna make you feel so good, honey," you cooed, once you'd pulled off of him, nuzzling your cheek against his dick. "gonna drain these heavy balls and make this pretty cock come down my thoat." good lord, his brain was short-circuiting already. he nearly blacked out when you took him in your mouth again, this time to the back of your throat. his moan was strangled, and he nearly lost himself right then and there. however, he knew better than to do so without asking permission first. and by the looks of it, you were not going to give him permission anytime soon. in fact, you were going to draw this out until he was sobbing, begging, pleading. then, and only then, would you let him come. after all, you loved to make your cowboy work for it.

[wosowffc]

CLUTCHING

Tw- asthma

Steph had been your mum for the last while after both being called for the World Cup along with Kyra who you had become really really good freinds with. It was you first mitildas camp and they really helped you settle in, your only young at 17 years old so you were thankful to have soemone there for you who you learnt to trust.

The last night at the hotel together before people slowly left ready for their flights had been spent with a massive take away, board games, movies and games you loved every part of it.

There was a point through the night where you had to step aside heading up to your room with out your knowledge Steph and Kyra had followed you. You felt the squeeze on your chest when a struggling cough tried to get out. Leaning against the wall in the hallway with your shoulder you felt two hands touch your back and arm one was Steph and one was Kyra.

"Are you sick, you should have told us yn" Steph said in her concerned voice trying to get a full view of my face as Kyra didn't really know what to say.

"I'm fine" I wheezed back breathlessly. "You don't sound fine yn" Kyra found words and with that you took one step before grabbing stephs arm and start having a coughing fit which ends with you on the floor continuously coughing in a strangled way.

"Kyra grab water in my room second on the left door it open" Steph instructs holding you in her arms.

"As-ive got-" is what your croak out to Steph trying to breath which isn't going very well. Your hands are shaking in fact your whole body is, you clammy and pale trying to guro steph in anyway needing a sence of comfort

"Yn hey focus, focus on me. Yn have you got asthma, do you have an inhaler? Yn?" She tried to tilt your head to try clear ur airways in anyway after she said this you tiredly nod.

"I'm....am I...die" your vison is leaving as fog surrounds your eyes. "I've got you,KYRA COME HERE QUICK" she shouts as Kyra comes running

"HER ROOM GO LOOK FOR HER INHALER CHECK EVERYWHERE I CANT LEAVE HER" she shouts to Kyra a few doors down with urgency.

You vison had gone and you were starting to slip into unconsciousness. You hadn't had an attack in about half a year and now your on a hotel hallways floor with Steph wrapped behind you tapping your face hearing her telling you to try slow down your breathing and that's it it's all black

"That's it come on it's ok" your eyes start to flicker you make sence of the last few moments Steph has your inhaler in your lips and she presses it each breath while Kyra stand worried hitting her nails and rubbing your arm.

"M'sorry" is all you get out, your tired but don't want them to be mad about ruining the night.

After a few more minutes Kyra had called the medics who give you some oxygen from a tank and said to take it easy but that was the last thing you wanted to do, this was your first camp and you already ruined the most fun day for Steph and Kyra.

"Can you help me backdown stairs...I want to be with everyone not ruin your night" you looked the floor as your controlled your breathing. The girls exchanged a look and a bit later they had slowly taken you back down once on the sofa tiredness over came you and you fell asleep on Steph.

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 29

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 5946

Warnings: Dean being Dean, navigating being an empath, suggestive thoughts, longing, Fluff, Meeting Pamela (Yes, this is a warning), Bonding (This is something specifically for this AU. I do not see this as a "requirement" to fully connect to someone, but for this story, it is needed).

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 29

Waking up in his arms, wrapped in warmth and safety, was something you’d come to treasure. Dean was still sound asleep, his face softened by whatever peaceful dream he was lost in. His brow was unlined, lips parted slightly, and you couldn’t help but wish he could always look this at ease, free from worry.

With your arm over his waist, you felt the steady rhythm of his breathing, a comforting rise and fall that matched the quiet room. You wondered, not for the first time, what he might be dreaming about. Whatever it was, you hoped he could have dreams like them often if they brought him this sort of peace.

The soft darkness of your room hid the details of his face, but that didn’t matter. The comfort of your bed paled in comparison to the peace you felt lying there with him, feeling for once that nothing could reach you. You knew that today, the two of you were supposed to go meet this psychic, Pamela, and you had your reservations. 

Bobby wouldn’t have suggested seeing her if she couldn’t help, and you knew that. He trusted her, that much you could tell with how he talked about her the day before on the phone with you. Still, a flicker of apprehension settled in your mind—uncertainty about this “psychic” and what she might see in you.

Taking one last, quiet look at the man who was sound asleep and lost in some peaceful dream, you slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb him. Since he’d made coffee the day before, you would do that today. Your wrists still ached, but it wasn’t as bad as the first day. An almost annoying reminder of the ordeal you’d gone through only days ago. 

As you waited for the coffee to brew, and during your first cup, your mind wandered, curious and apprehensive about meeting this Pamela person. Bobby had explained that she was a friend of the family, and even knew the Winchesters but hadn’t seen the boys in years, before Dean graduated. You just weren’t sure how to feel about being around someone who called themselves a psychic. Was she an empath, like you? Did she have premonitions, and that was what she called being psychic? You weren’t sure.

“Someone’s lost in thought,” Dean’s voice, warm and slightly teasing, pulled you back. He leaned in the doorway, his hair still tousled, an easy smile tugging at his lips.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” you asked, meeting his gaze as he came closer.

He shook his head, reaching out to rest his hands on your hips. “Not on purpose,” he murmured, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss against your lips, the kind of kiss that made your heart skip a beat. 

When he pulled away, you looked up at him, feeling slightly puzzled, not understanding what he meant. He loved that confused expression of yours, the way your brows dipped down, your eyes narrowing, just a little, and you always tilted your head, just a bit. God, you’re adorable. You let out a small huff at his thought to you, which only made him smile wider. The warmth of his affection wrapped around you, and you couldn’t be mad at him.

“You’ve got a lot on your mind this morning, huh?” he asked, his tone a little playful but also a little serious. This was the first time your thoughts had pulled him from his dreams, worrying him slightly. 

“Did I actually wake you up?” you asked since he hadn’t answered you.

He nodded, his tone shifting to a gentler seriousness. “Yeah, kinda. Your thoughts… they just sorta pulled me awake.” His words sank in, making you wonder what all he’d heard or felt. Your mouth opened, about to apologize, but you quickly closed it and refused to think the word, which was utterly difficult. Hearing him chuckle at your momentary conundrum brought a pout to your lips. “I feel bad,” you mumbled, looking down and away from his gaze.

Dean’s thumbs rubbed slow, soothing circles on your hips, then brought one hand to your chin, gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Don’t,” he began in a soft whisper. “You have nothing to feel bad about. I’m in this with you, even if your thoughts wake me up at two in the morning.” He gave you one more tender kiss before pulling away to get himself some coffee. You knew he was right and it wasn’t like you’d done it intentionally. A sigh of resignation left your lips as you got another cup of coffee, joining him at the kitchen table. Your mind, just like Dean’s, was elsewhere, though.

Pamela had told him he’d find his soulmate, but he’d have to have more patience than he’d ever had in his entire life. At the time, he didn’t understand what she meant. Sitting across from you now, with everything that had happened, he couldn’t help the small smile that played along his lips. Pamela typically wasn’t direct when it came to the premonitions she told people. There were risks with that. She was good, though, and she was never wrong.

“How about I make us some breakfast, then we can head out,” Dean offered, breaking the silence that had settled between the two of you.

Looking up at him, you smiled slightly, then shook your head in mild amusement. “If you want. I also don’t mind just picking something up and eating on the drive.” “Yeah, but this way, I can focus on just driving instead of trying to eat, drive, and sneak glances at you,” he replied playfully, making you smile.

Dean made a simple breakfast for the two of you, which helped soothe the tension your thoughts had brought you earlier. Something about seeing and feeling his emotions when he cooked was different than other times, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. The two of you ate in mostly comfortable silence, with only light conversation. Dean knew you needed a distraction, or you would end up in your head again.

As with all the other times, Dean teased you ever so slightly when he helped you dress, but today, he brushed out your hair. It was a pleasant sensation, even if you were only used to having your aunt do that when you were little. Occasionally, his fingers would brush along the skin of your neck, sending goosebumps down your arms. He wasn’t ready to tell you how he knew Pamela, not yet. Plus, he was pretty sure she’d say something when the two of you got there. For now, he was enjoying hearing the thoughts you were desperately trying not to think about due to the light teasing he was doing while braiding your hair. Every time the word ‘tease’ drifted through his mind in that soft whisper, he just chuckled, looking forward to the day you were ready, so he could truly show you what teasing was.

The drive started out quiet, the familiar rumble of the Imapla’s engine and the early morning sun casting long shadows across the road. Dean had his arm draped casually over the wheel, the other between you two, fingers lightly tapping a rhythm against the leather seat. Every so often, he glanced over, a quiet warmth in his gaze. His thoughts whispered through your mind, You’re not alone in this.

After a while, he broke the silence. “Pamela’s place isn’t far. She lives on the outskirts of the town. I guess it has to do with her physic thing, not being able to be around people. It’s kinda cozy, like a mix between a library and a crystal shop.”

You laughed softly at the mental image, trying to imagine someone who could be a psychic and a grounded friend. “So, any other advice for meeting her? What’s she like?” Dean’s lips quirked up. “She’s, uh… well, let’s say she’d got a bit of a mouth on her. Don’t be surprised if she cracks a joke or two about us. But she’s got a good heart, even if she’s blunt as hell.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, already feeling a bit more at ease. Maybe meeting this Pamela person wouldn’t be so bad, after all. Perhaps she really could help, and she sounded like someone you might be able to get along with. At least now, you weren’t nearly as tense as you had been, and Dean was thankful for that.

About an hour or so later, Dean was parking in Pamela’s driveway, and your nerves seemed to be getting to you again. He sighed, feeling your anxiety tighten around his chest as he opened your door. “Breathe. She doesn’t bite.”

“I can’t help it,” you mumbled, leaning against him as he draped his arm over your shoulders and pulled you close.

The two of you walked up the few steps onto the porch, but before Dean could knock, the door swung open. Pamela stood there,  her initial smile shifting to a raised eyebrow, like she’d seen something neither of you two did. “You two haven’t bonded yet?” she asked bluntly, seeing the incomplete connection between you.

Dean just chuckled at Pamela’s bluntness, though he wasn’t entirely sure what she meant with her statement. “Nice to see you too, Pam,” he replied, his tone light.

Pamela gave him a quick, assessing once-over before turning to you. Her sharp eyes sparkled, but behind them, there was a glint of familiarity and warmth, as if she’d known you long before you ever stepped foot on her porch. She’d seen you in several premonitions over the years, even before you were born, but seeing you now, standing there, made it hard to keep her tears away. “You must be the one Bobby told me about,” she said with a soft smile, even though it wasn’t the whole truth.

Taking a calming breath, you nodded. “He said you could help me with the whole empath and premonition thing,” you replied, trying to get your anxiety under control. “But, what did you mean by we haven’t bonded?” Pamela let out playful laughter at your question. She’s still innocent. “Sex, honey. You two haven’t had sex yet.” And with that, she turned on her heel, heading inside, leaving the door open for the two of you to follow.

Your jaw nearly hit the porch at her bluntness while your cheeks turned a bright red in embarrassment. Dean attempted to hide his faint discomfort, clearing his throat before taking your hand. “Sorry. I tried to warn you she was blunt,” he told you apologetically, then left a quick kiss on your cheek before leading you inside.

She was sitting in her living room, relaxing in a recliner opposite a plus-looking couch. Pamela gestured for the two of you to take a seat as she sipped her coffee. “Alright, down to business,” she began, leaning forward and setting down her coffee cup. “I can help you, but until the two of you fully bond, these will only partially work.” 

That blush crept right back into your cheeks, and you glanced away, trying to avoid meeting her gaze. Pamela looked over at Dean, studying him, opening herself up to feel both your emotions. She needed to understand more, the things neither of you were saying, the things her premonitions never included. 

Pamela was able to feel both your current emotions, but she went deeper, like following a thread along a winding path. She had already seen several of the things you’d been through in your life, including the car accident your parents were in. Something else was holding you back; she just had to find it. It was the one thing that always evaded the premonitions she had about you.

Dean gave your hand a gentle squeeze, pulling your gaze to him. I’m right here, Sweetheart. His whispered words in your mind, a quiet warmth settling over your nerves. You scooted closer to him, leaning into his side as he held you close. It’s okay, he thought to you, trying to soothe the wave of emotions rolling through the connection. Goosebumps went down Pamela’s arms as a chill found her spine. You accomplished things you shouldn’t have without bonding with your soulmate. She drew in a shaky breath. “Honey, lemme see your hand,” she asked softly; all playfulness gone now, and it sent a chill through you. You looked over at her, a little puzzled. Pushing past your worry, you hesitantly held out your other hand for her. Pamela moved to sit on her coffee table in front of you, preparing herself for what she knew would come through the contact. She took a slow, deep breath before taking your hand in both of hers. 

As soon as her hands touched yours, an intense wave of emotion crashed over you, her gaze turning distant, almost as if she were seeing something beyond the room. Her eyes shifted, focusing on things only she could see, and her expression grew strained as she glimpsed more pieces of your past, things that her promotions hadn’t included.

The silence stretched as Pamela’s grip tightened slightly. Then, she exhaled slowly, her gaze clearing as she looked back at you with something close to awe. “You’ve been through more than most,” she murmured; her words carried something raw and empathetic. “But there’s something holding you back… keeping you from bonding completely with Dean.”

Dean held you close, his jaw tightening as Pamela continued. Her words had shifted the room’s energy entirely, and he wanted to be sure you were ready for whatever came next. He also felt almost helpless, unable to do more than hold you. That was when Pamela placed one of her hands just above his knee, causing him to jump at the sudden contact.

Pamela’s eyes glossed over, like she had gone into a trance. “Stay in the bunker. Three days past Dean’s birthday, don’t leave. Call Crowley two days before Dean’s birthday. You’ll know what to tell him,” her voice sounded distant, but the words scared the hell out of you. 

The chill in her voice raised the hair on your arms. Your stomach dropped at her cryptic words, the weight of something unseen pressing down. Whatever she’d seen seemed to ripple through her and you wondered if you’d ever reach the ability level she had. However, it also scared the hell out of you.

She saw far more but couldn’t reveal anything else, knowing it could make too many other things permanent. Slowly, Pamela let go of your hand, also withdrawing her hand from Dean. You couldn’t control how your body began to shake the moment she let go. 

“It’ll be okay. Alright?” she told you softly, closing herself off like she had learned how to do so long ago. Your life truly had been one of hardship, a living nightmare that no one should have to go through. But soon, all that would be behind you. She could only give you so much. You would have to do the rest.

“Geeze, Pam,” Dean bit out, holding you tighter as he felt your body shake, and the frustration rising in his voice.”You were supposed to help her, not scare the shit out of her.”

Pamela sighed, returning to her recliner. “Look, I don’t always have control over when I get premonitions, alright? Just… be there for her over the next week and a half. And neither of you are to leave the bunker, for any reason,” it was the only warning she could give them, not wanting to speak what she’d seen out loud. Premonitions were odd in that way. If too much was said, it could solidify what was seen, and never in a good way. She’d seen it happen. It was how she had lost her soulmate, and you were the reason she was still alive. But she couldn’t tell you that either; it would have been too much right now.

The weight of her words had you in a mild state of shock for the moment. It was a lot: the emotions that had flooded through you, the way your memories had flashed quickly through your mind, and then there had been what Pamela had said. Right now, you were just doing your best not to freak out. Pamela knew your nerves were shot; she had felt it before she closed herself off. So, she headed into her kitchen, pouring you almost half a glass of whiskey. Two or three shots wasn’t going to be enough, and it wasn’t like you were driving.

“Here, hon, this’ll help,” she said gently as she held the glass out for you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the glass, which shook slightly in your grasp. Wrapping both hands around it, you managed to steady the glass, then hissed at the burn in your throat after taking a sip. Dean kept his arm around you, his hand resting on your shoulder, his thumb tracing small, absentminded circles. He didn’t know how to help this time, not with something so far beyond his reach.

For a while, silence filled the room, giving you time to sip the whiskey and settle your nerves. You couldn’t even form a complete thought before another one began, and then the same would happen to that one as another one quickly tried to take its place. Dean did the only thing he could think of, the only thing that felt right, and that was holding you close while also trying to calm his emotions, which felt like a whirlwind.

Halfway through your drink, you finally took a decent breath, even if it was shaky, and looked over at Pamela. You still had questions, but her words had brought more. “Dean mentioned that premonitions don’t work like I think they do. So, how do they work?” 

Pamela knew this question was coming, she’d seen it, as well as others. “Well, like with your first nightmare, it’s sometimes hard to know what the consistent is, the thing that won’t change.” She began, wanting to find just the right way so you could understand. “In your nightmare, you were taken. In real life, you were taken. Nothing else in the nightmare mattered as none of the other stuff happened.” “That’s frustrating,” you mumbled, snuggling closer to Dean before taking another sip of the whiskey.

She watched you for a moment, reading the two of you like a book. “Your fear. It’s what’s holding you back from everything. You’re afraid of losing him. I get it. Fear has literally been the one thing in your life that you can’t seem to get past. I know this is easier said than done, but if you don’t take that leap of faith, fear will ruin your life.” You felt that knot in your stomach as she spoke, knowing she was right. Dean thought he was going to be sick with what flooded through the connection. It was far more intense than other times he’d felt your fear in the past, like someone had opened the floodgates. “Bathroom is down the hall, second door on the right,” Pamela told him, her eyes on you, and Dean bolted down the hallway.

“What happened?” you asked, puzzled as Dean disappeared.

Pamela sighed, knowing she couldn’t just give you everything. “Fear can be a wonderful motivator or a crippling monster. You’ve been living with fear most of your life, so to you, it’s just part of who you are and how you see the world. But, to someone like Dean, what feels like a small knot in your stomach is ten times more intense because he’s lived with hope.” Those goosebumps found your skin and proceeded to dance along every hair slowly. Then, you furrowed your brow in confusion, setting the mostly empty glass on the table. “No. I just haven’t hoped for anything. It’s not the same,” you tried to explain, but all she did was chuckle.

“Kid, fear is what dashes hope. With all the events of your life, your hopes have been crushed, repeatedly. You don’t see it as being afraid, by not hoping for things. But that’s not how it works. I know you’re afraid of going all the way with Dean. I know you’re afraid that you’ll lose him after doing so, and that, in the end, you’ll be more alone than you’ve ever been,” she explained, her tone soft, even if her words twisted at your gut and brought back the anxiety in your chest. “Yes, you accepted him as your soulmate, but that only connects your mind and soul. Once you fully bond with him, things will smooth themselves out. It’s a giving of yourselves that’s intimate, far deeper than just a physical act. Because of the connection the two of you already have, it’s going to be intense when it happens, but in a good way,” Pamela added softly, trying to give that flicker of hope in you a little more of a nudge.

There were a lot of people who had wanted to argue as to how bonding worked, but Pamela knew the truth. She’d been through it once and had chosen to remain single after losing her soulmate, to never bond with anyone again. Changing the way “the system” saw things was always hard, but at least there were some things they had finally begun to truly look at.

You looked down at your hands in your lap. “How do I get over it?” you asked quietly.

Pamela moved to sit next to you, putting her arm over your shoulders and tugging you a little closer. “It’s called a leap of faith for a reason, hon. Stop being afraid of living life to its fullest with a man who would walk through hell to get to you. I know you want to surprise him on his birthday with it. I also know he’d wait forever for you. Stop being afraid.” 

There was something in the softness of her voice, the way she spoke, that calmed you similarly to how Dean’s presence did. Just mentally considering what she was suggesting made your anxiety spike. Pamela just held you like she had been, shielding Dean from an onslaught of emotions she knew he couldn’t handle in his current state.

Normal people felt emotions on a normal level, like those who hadn’t gone through highly traumatic experiences. Even those who had, as long as they weren’t empaths, they still only felt emotions on a normal level. An empath who had a wounded soul felt emotions so profoundly that it was too much for any normal person to understand, let alone feel. Dean was unique, as he had been able to handle your emotions, at least until your true fear had slipped through the connection. On top of that, the fact that the two of you hadn’t fully bonded, had Pamela utterly intrigued.

When Dean finally made his way back out to the living room, he was looking a little green around the gills, and you offered him an apologetic smile. “I’ll be alright, Sweetheart. Just not used to your emotions being that intense,” he told you with a smile just before a burp slipped out, due to his recovering stomach.

“After you two finally have sex, it’ll be easier,” Pamela pipped in, making you blush and Dean grumble a little. Then she turned to you, “Think about what I said, hun.” Her tone was soft, like earlier, soothing your emotions further. She kissed you on the temple before she went over to Dean, leaning close to his ear while you zoned off a little.

“She’s gonna be okay. Both of you are. Just do what I said, and things will turn out like you’ve been hoping for,” she whispered as Dean tried to keep his expression stoic, when inside, he was almost as happy as the day you accepted him as your soulmate.

Dean’s eyes were on you, taking in your slightly slumped posture, your far-off gaze, and all he wanted to do was take away every horrible thing you were going through. “I’m gonna take her home. Thanks, Pam,” he replied gratefully before going over to you.

You jumped a little when he set his hand on your shoulder. “You ready to head home?” Puzzled, you looked up at him. “But, what about how to deal with other people’s emotions?” 

Pamela chuckled as she sat back in her recliner. “It’s fairly easy. Picture a bubble around you. When you want to let other people’s emotions in, imagine the bubble thinning or going away completely. When you want to keep other people’s emotions out, just picture that bubble around you. It’ll take practice, but that’s the easiest one I can give you to start with.”

Well, it sounds simple enough.

“Thanks,” you sighed, glancing down at the last shot of whiskey, debating drinking it. Before you could even ask your next question, she spoke again. “As for the premonition thing. Only time and practice will help you understand what the constant is, the thing that won’t change. Once you find balance, understanding your premonitions will get clearer.”

The entire ride back with Dean was silent, as you were lost in your thoughts, trying to piece it all together. Feeling how you pulled back, like you were closing yourself off, all Dean could do at the moment was give you space. The whiskey had not only settled your nerves but had also seemed to calm your thoughts far more than they had been back at Pamela’s.

You really did have a ton of questions, but none of those felt like they mattered at the moment. Your thoughts were now only on what had happened back at Pamela’s and everything she had said. It wasn’t so much Pamela’s premonition that was on your mind. It was what she had said about taking a leap of faith. You didn’t focus too hard on it, though, as it only triggered your anxiety. 

As Dean pulled into the garage, he stole a quick glance at you, and it felt like you had your walls up again. All he had felt through the connection was that you were there, but your emotions weren’t mixing with his. Back at Pamela’s, it had been your fear that hit him like a punch to the gut, and he was unable to keep breakfast down, and now, there was nothing. He wondered what Pamela had said to you while he’d been in the bathroom, but now something was nagging at him, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to approach you.

When you heard his door open, it pulled your gaze to him, a puzzled look on your face. “Did you need to pick anything up, since we have to stay in the bunker again?”

It was at that moment that your emotions began trickling through the connection again, making him let out a breath of relief. “We’ve got enough to get through, and there’s still plenty of meat in the freezer. I think we’ll be okay,” he replied, giving you a reassuring smile.

You could tell something was bothering him, but you’d ask him about it after getting into the bunker. Still feeling in a bit of a daze over it all, you got out of the Impala while Dean locked up the garage. That awkward silence between the two of you, had Dean debating chewing Bobby out for even suggesting you go see Pamela. 

He silently followed you down the stairs, through the second door, and into the living room. You wrapping your arms around him threw him for a complete loop, but he held you close as your emotions finally began dancing with his again.

“Talk to me, please,” he whispered, unable to truly express what it had felt like when he couldn’t feel your emotions, but you felt all of it from him.

You let the comfort of his embrace sooth everything coursing through your mind and soul. Pamela’s words had shaken you, but they had also clarified things, too. Now, it was just finding the courage to make that leap of faith. For now, though, you focused on the warmth from his body and the tenderness of his embrace.

“Just trying to process everything Pamela said,” you replied quietly, resting your head on his chest as your body finally felt like it was relaxing.

Dean held you just a little closer, fighting the lump of emotion in his throat. “I’m here, if you want to talk about it,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

Giving him a gentle squeeze, you looked up at him, that small yet genuine smile finally finding your lips. “I know. I’ll be okay. It’s just a lot to sort through. Can we watch a movie and cuddle, though? I don’t want to think about it right now,” you asked.

He let out a sigh of relief, letting your presence and gentle emotions soothe the tension that had gripped all his muscles. “Yeah, we can watch a movie,” he replied softly, gently cupping your cheek.

You hummed as you leaned into his touch and closed your eyes, letting all your stresses go. There was plenty of time to face what you knew you needed to. Right now, all you wanted, all you needed was to be tucked comfortably against him while enjoying a movie and his embrace.

“Can I help you get into something comfortable first?” he asked, raising an eyebrow playfully, which matched the smirk that found his lips. You had inadvertently managed to distract him from what he’d been going through, so now, he was going to deliberately distract you.

As a giggle left your lips, he scooped you into his arms, making you squeal in surprise. His laughter brought peace to you as he carried you to your room and gently set you on the edge of the bed. You weren’t ready to go all the way with him tonight, but this time, you let yourself enjoy his teases. It was like exposure therapy, and even though it made you anxious, it also helped you push through the feelings.

Dean raised an eyebrow when you hadn’t told him he was being a tease, debating asking you about it. He could feel your desire, so he knew he’d gotten to you. He just couldn’t understand why you hadn’t said anything. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his concern slipping through the connection.

“Yes, Dean. I’m okay,” your words came out playful, so Dean relaxed again, but you could still feel something nagging at him. “I’ll tell you what. Tonight, just hold me, and tomorrow, I’ll share what’s been going through my head, I promise.” 

He feigned frustration; the hint of a smile gave him away, pulling laughter from you. That made his smile widen, and he scooped you up into his arms again, spinning you a couple of times. The way your laughter filled the room made his heart soar. You quickly wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and held on. When he stopped, you looked up at him, still giggling a little, and it felt like the moment was frozen in time. The smile on his face made his eyes sparkle as the lines at the edges of his eyes crinkled. Feeling the joy that not only flowed through the connection but also radiated off him made your heart melt.

God, I love you. The thought whispered through his mind, and he just couldn’t help himself, leaning down and capturing your lips in what was intended to be a tender, loving kiss. However, when you reciprocated, and one of your hands cupped his cheek, he had to take a deep inhale through his nose, pulling you ever closer to him. Dean teased your lip with his tongue, desperately wanting to deepen the kiss, and you almost did, but you knew you were ready. Pulling back a little, you looked into his eyes, seeing the desire, the love, and sighed. But before you could answer, he spoke. “I know. I can wait,” he told you gently, resting his forehead against yours.

It was getting harder for him not to progress things, but he would keep his word and wait for you to be ready. With his body tingling, he took you out to the living room, setting you gently on the couch. You worked on catching your breath while he slipped in a movie, adjusting himself before he plopped down next to you. Without warning, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you against him.

The night was relaxing as you finally found your peace again, without worry. Pamela’s words were still in the back of your mind, but you let them stay there. The two of you slipped easily into your nightly routine, with him cooking and you doing the dishes. He again came up and held you, even teased you a little, but kept it light. Dean mainly had done it to hear your giggle and those cute noises you made when he slipped his thumbs just under your shirt and rubbed gentle circles against your skin.

You had insisted that he pick a movie, but he was quite persistent about you choosing one, as he loved seeing that child-like joy sparkle in your eyes and dance through the connection. So, you picked the movie, the two of you lying down on the couch and cuddling for the length of it. Although, after about forty-five minutes or so, you began falling asleep. 

It had been a long, emotional day, and being wrapped up in his comfort let every ounce of stress dissipate from your body. Feeling your petite frame against him, your muscles no longer tense, and the way your breathing began to even out in a sleepy sort of way allowed Dean’s stresses to slip away as well.

“You want to head to bed early?” he asked sleepily, finding himself just as sleepy as you.

“Sure,” you breathed out, forcing your eyes to open again.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” he grunted as he got off the couch, climbing over you.

For a moment you just laid there, watching as he turned off the movie and began turning off excess lights. You weren’t sure why it brought peace to you, seeing him do mundane things, but you allowed the emotions from those moments to move through the connection, wanting him to feel it, too.

Even though he was exhausted, he went over and tenderly scooped you into his arms, carrying you to bed. He tucked you under the covers on one side of the bed before he slipped out to change and get the last couple lights. You were almost asleep when he crawled into bed, scooting close to you. Snuggling against him, you let out a content sigh.

“Good night, Dean. I love you,” you whispered, eyes already closed and sleep tugging at your conscious mind.

He held you a little tighter, “Good night, Sweetheart,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against your head, breathing deeply.

The day may have been rocky, but right now, in this moment, with his arms around you, it felt like a distant memory. The stillness of the room, coupled with the steady rhythm of his heart, gently lulled you into a deep sleep. Dean felt your breathing become steady as your body relaxed further in his arms. A small smile found his lips as he closed his eyes, knowing you were sleeping peacefully.

I love you, Sweetheart. I always will.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 30

Story Master List Main Master List

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @jamerlynn @jackles010378 @bruhidkjustwannaread @onthehuntforshinies

@chriszgirl92 @angzls @xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @onlyangel-444

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If I missed tagging, please let me know. I had a lot of requests for tags for this one. If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment.

[sevikas-biceps]

Just to add on to this. Someone might've mentioned it in the tags, but I wanted to put my take on this thought.

[TLDR: me agreeing with OP and then explaining something vaguely Marxist lmao]

Do note that the power imbalance is also there. Yes, the two of them have their own views regarding the situation [Vi being accustomed to the reality of things, Caitlyn having to be shocked into experiencing it firsthand (and even then not the whole scope of this systemic issue)]—but their subjective experiences don't change the fact that, from a complete bird's eye view, the conflict of power exists.

We see this multiple times in the show. We see this already laid out for us, in several instances, in Season 1.

In what mad world will I trust someone like you? // Someone like me? You enforcers are all the same: just asshole criminals in fancy uniforms. We're here because I'm hungry. Do you know what prison food is like? No. Of course, you don't. Well, that place does look like it has bodies buried in the basement. // You don't know anything. You know what your problem is? // Please, tell me. // You expect everyone to give you what you want. What is this place? // It's where the kind of people you Topsiders don't wanna think about wind up. I know you have your reservations about me. This only works if we can learn to trust each other. // It doesn't work. It never has. You Topsiders always find a way to screw us. // I suppose Topside is to blame for all your misfortunes. // ...not all of them. // We aren't monsters, you know. We're people. Just like you. // You don't know anything about me. She makes...potions. Helps people here with...with...this. // ...shimmer. Why would you take something that does that to you? // I just...wanted to feel what it was like...to be somebody. To make other people afraid. Let's go. I think Vi would be happy to see a friendly face. // No! You...you go on ahead. She...she knew me when I was still...anyway, I don't want her to see me like this. Just tell her I'm sorry...about everything, okay? You used to live here...who's Powder? // My sister. I thought she died, but, now...I have to try and find her. // How do you know if your sister is alive or dead? // It's hard to check up on people from inside a concrete cell. // What, you don't have parents? // No! They were killed by enforcers. I knew it was a mistake trusting you! // You've been a real picnic yourself. Vi tells me I can trust you. You get a pass back Topside—that's it. ...it's beautiful. // If your people had your way, it'd be rubble and ash. // It's a misunderstanding. They think you work for Silco. // Your people hunt us! Like animals! Silco pays them to do it! // That's not possible. You're wrong. // Say that one more time. Ekko! She believes what she's saying, okay? We could beat Silco with this. // That won't solve things. // Easy for you to say! Your people aren't dying all around you! // Ekko...it's wrong what's been done to you. You'd be well within your rights to keep it. I couldn't blame you. But, if you do, the cycle of violence will never stop. This is our best shot at setting the record straight. This city needs healing—more than I ever realised.

[Whew. I actually had to rewatch several episodes just to get the dialogue IFBJKFBF]

Now, back to the topic at hand.

Let's start with the obvious. Whether explicit or implicit, all of these lines trace back to the systemic oppression being done by Piltover against the Undercity.

Vi was wary of Caitlyn in the beginning because she's an enforcer, and enforcers were the people who'd killed her parents. And it's not just that, either. Vi knew about Grayson and Vander's deal. She has witnessed both Piltie and Trencher working together to keep peace between the two cities. Yes, she'd been angry about it (reasonably so), but even then, she realised why such a thing needed to be done. She was even ready to sacrifice herself just to spare her siblings the inevitability of being the scapegoat. This implies that Vi knew there was at least a good soul out there, a sympathiser—who might yet grant her some kindness on the upside.

But then that sympathy got that very same person killed. And here, we finally know for true that good people don't survive the games of life. You don't get as far as you do in your existence without committing violence. The same also holds true for Vander: her father, who'd shifted his morals and priorities to protect his children; her father, who'd also sacrificed himself in the name of their family.

What does that show her? Being good gets you killed. Being good isn't enough.

Huck demonstrates this incredibly well. I just wanted to feel what it was like to be somebody. To make other people afraid. Prior to his reappearance in Ep6, we don't know anything about him save for the fact that he'd made deals of his own in the Undercity—but this is enough to tell us that he, like almost everyone else, is involved in some kind of illegal business. What does that say? Being good doesn't support your life. You have to tamp down the purest parts of you to be able to survive and thrive. If you're not somebody, if you're nobody, then you're worthless. You die. You're nothing. And everything you do is forgotten.

Even those in Piltover knew this. Caitlyn is a glaring example, what with the drastic shift in morals in Season 2; Cassandra is another good model (see this post of mine); Jayce had to adapt to the demands of high society, seeing and acknowledging the points made in Mel's little lessons on politics; Viktor once had to lie low in the Academy, and use subterfuge to achieve even just a fraction of his own potentials and ambitions; the list goes on.

Being good just doesn't cut it. Ekko implies this best: Vi tells me I can trust you. He's mistrustful of Caitlyn not just because she's a Topsider, not just because she's (still and admittedly) largely ignorant of the harsher realities of their cities—but because she'd've been raised on the very same ideals others she knew have also exhibited. What else does Caitlyn know but the life she lived in Piltover? What she knows as 'right' or 'wrong' is vastly different from what someone like an Undercity child would perceive as 'right' or 'wrong'—and being 'good' isn't enough, because the scales of measuring such a thing were already horridly skewed to start.

So, how does this support the idea that there's a pattern of abuse in Vi and Caitlyn's relationship?

The abuse itself starts on the political level. And this is so, because this was the basis of their relationship in the beginning. No strings attached. Get me out of this cell, and I'll give you the clues to your investigation. Lead me to this criminal, and I'll help you find your sister. I'll forget you're an enforcer for a while. I'll pretend you're not a convict yourself. We can work together. Somehow. The nature of their births had already dictated how they were to behold one another in this relationship. It will always hold a shadow over their heads. Even with the deterrent of romance mixed in, this dichotomy will persist.

OP mentions this:

Cait is Vi's only access to safety and food, she's isolated, she has to constantly prove her loyalty to Cait and renounce any ounce of lingering feelings she has towards the only family she has left, she's left in constant state of anxiety because of it.

There will always be a side to Caitlyn that would never understand how life was like for Vi, or for Ekko, or for Huck, or for Jinx, or for everyone else in the Undercity. That's not an accusation. It's just a statement of truth. Even despite the fact that Caitlyn had tried to set things right (evidenced by her efforts to convince Ekko to return the hexcrystal, and later on her talk with Cassandra to speak in favour of their case at the Council meeting), none of that matters because she herself undoes all that she worked for. All that Vi had tried making her see was for nothing.

That's where it becomes abusive. That's where their relationship, past the political layer, gets cruel on a personal level. Caitlyn, even if she didn't mean to do so and even if she doesn't realise it, had taken advantage of Vi.

You Topsiders always find a way to screw us.

Many others have said this in recent posts: it's Us versus Them.

Over the course of the first act of Season 2, we constantly see Vi in Piltover or surrounded by Piltovian individuals; which makes sense narrative-wise, but on a symbolic level also represents her isolation from all that she knew and had been built by (as a person) in her past. There's also an element of grooming present—in the same way Silco had groomed Powder into becoming Jinx. Caitlyn had slowly worn away at Vi (you can argue this as their relationship being developed, but still) and, for better or for worse (worse), trapped her into a situation where her choices leaned only in one direction and one direction only (Piltover or Zaun?).

Caitlyn abuses her power in this relationship. Whether Caitlyn herself realises this or not, whether Vi realises this or not, is irrelevant—what matters is that such a thing had happened at all. Being good fails. You can't have your cake and eat it. Caitlyn has to make the choice: her mother (Piltover), or her lover (Zaun)? Similarly, Vi does the same: her people (Zaun), or her lover (Piltover)?

You can't be good, one way or the other. It's just not enough, anymore. You have to breach something here, you have to commit an evil somewhere there—because being good gets you nowhere. Not when you're at this point of your life. Being good won't help you catch Jinx, being good won't stop the terrorist attacks from happening, being good won't bring your mother back. But being good would just make your people hate you, being good would make you a conspirator to the crimes against them, being good wouldn't sate your lover's need for vengeance.

That's where Vi and Caitlyn's relationship becomes toxic.

That's where the abuse sets in.

not to be the friend who's too woke but I genuinely feel that the only reason the fandom has such a visceral reaction to people calling Vi and Cait's situation domestic violence is because Vi is butch. yes, DV is more than just physical harm, it involves repeating patterns of abuse, all of which can be found in their relationship. Cait is Vi's only access to safety and food, she's isolated, she has to constantly prove her loyalty to Cait and renounce any ounce of lingering feelings she has towards the only family she has left, she's left in constant state of anxiety because of it.

[zozo-01]

[blinks repeatedly] being a former stem kid in business is weird.

[mishidefresa]

...

[saints-who-never-existed]

Never over Collins in that first scene aboard Erebus. He's just an entirely different person - cool and calm, issuing orders in that lovely warm tone, voice clear as a bell, striding the length of the ship with confidence and ease and purpose.

LOOK WHAT THEY TOOK FROM US!

[brainpilled]

It's so weird to me to see people get mad about it, because it's just become really normal to me because of how much you draw it and how natural it is. I see a drawing of a trans man with top scars I'm like "yeah that makes sense", and I see a drawing of trans man with boobs and I'm still like "yeah that makes sense". It's so insane to me there's people who don't understand it, I think it's pretty easy to understand.

depicting trans men as feminine and even with breasts and curves is a test to see who is chill About your identity, and who becomes a raging bigot the minute they see a guy liking fem stuff.

[mayasaura]

Public Service Announcement: Information wanted in relation to a recent assault on Admiral James T. Kirk

The suspect, one Professor Miaocchiato, is thought to still be at large. Please contact Starfleet if you have any information.

[cardentist]

The post that was screenshot: [Link] This post with the reply by catgirlforeskin: [Link] A convenient post that I wrote going into it about my gender yesterday: [Link]

obviously I would suggest reading the original post, as it has context for what was being said in those screenshots.

ahem

So Like, We Just Hate People Who Aren't Binary Huh?

We See Someone Come Out About Being Genderqueer And Talk About Their Own Presentation And Sense Of Self On Their Own Post And It's Immediately Responded To With "You're Fetishizing Trans Women By Thinking That You Have Anything In Common With Them."

let's review !

1: I made a Vent Post where I responded to a Cis Person, I made my own post and crossed out their username because I didn't feel like they did anything Wrong, but I wanted to discuss my feelings on it anyways!

2: these feelings were that it's upsetting that people don't seem to think about the trans perspective when discussing gender Stuff, or how marginalization in general plays a factor when discussing representation in media.

3: within Two Notes I got someone crawling into my replies and dms to talk down to me for being trans masc, so I expressed frustration that That's something that happens to me.

4: THEN somebody responded to That to insist that me expressing frustration about people lashing out at marginalized men was harmful to trans women.

you'll notice ! I was a trans person speaking about my own feelings on my own post, responding to a cis person and someone who explicitly harassed me. I did not mention trans women in this post, because it was a vent post. I explicitly say in my response to that post different kinds of trans people venting about their experiences does not imply or take anything away from other sorts of trans people.

so ! what we're left with is !

1: people being Furiously Angry that I would say that all trans people are capable of being hurt and that all trans people deserve to speak about their feelings, enough to rip things out of context and lie

2: People Just Unironically Saying With Their Entire Chest That A Trans Person Who Considers Themselves Both Masculine And Feminine Is Transmisogynistic, Because Being Genderqueer Implies That You Don't See Trans Women As Real Women. Somehow.

so like. where do we go from here huh.

firstly, there's an awareness. I need people to be Aware that this is something that is happening. that we've reached a point where people hate trans mascs so much that they're willing to tear them down for talking about Their Feelings in response to Cis People.

that we've reached a point where people get so blindly Angry when someone suggests that trans people should all be treated with dignity and respect that they're willing to act like this.

I Need people to share things like this, even if it's not this post specifically. because I Need People To Understand the kind of vitriol and hatred that trans mascs are facing simply for being visible At All.

if people aren't aware then they Will end up supporting and spreading this kind of harassment without realizing.

[ubejamjar]

day 19 - soar

Any broom would've sufficed for her experiment; it didn't need to be the one from the Tribunal's supply closet, but surely a supreme sacred Halonic broom would fly better than an ordinary one, no?

auraugust promptos

[archive-of-wax]

I don't even know where to start with my love for this post, I've literally been rereading it over and over all day. This is by far the best interpretation of Trudy's parenting I've ever seen. It really captures the complex family dynamic we see onscreen with the twins, both with their mother and each other.

It's easy to focus on Trudy's evident abuse of Bo in the opening scene, but I think this is the first time I've seen anyone really analyse her interaction with Vincent. It's also one of the few times I've seen anyone speculate about his perspective or thoughts regarding his mother and her parenting, and I think you're spot on. Vincent wasn't showered with unconditional love while Bo got constant abuse. He was smothered with overbearing attentiveness that probably caused more issues than it fixed. Helicopter parenting certainly lines up with many traits fans have inferred from Vincent's portrayal, such as perfectionism, overdependence, and an anxious disposition.

I also felt that his perception of their mother wasn't as idolised as Bo's, and would go as far as to say that during his and Bo's kitchen convo I felt a hint of...exhasperation? Even weariness. At Trudy, at Bo's idolised view of her that he seemingly can't reject out loud, maybe even the purpose of their murderplot. I always imagined his feelings towards her to be something like 'I love you but please stop I'm begging you, why are you like this, why can't you be better for us', and I feel like part of that frustration came from knowing that none of the hovering and fussing was ever really for him as much as it was for her to feel better about herself, so any conversation about his feelings on the matter would have been pointless. If not immediately dismissed it would have just caused an argument, and this family has enough of those already, right? No need to rock the boat.

I have also never seen that newspaper clipping about Victor?! Could I ask where you found it? It completely throws loads of backstory theories out the window. Your version makes the lead-up to the murderplot make so much sense too. Bo and Vincent didn't just wake up one day and choose violence for no reason, but rather the pressure slowly built up: their father passing, the mill shutting down and all the jobs disappearing, then the town's inhabitants leaving, and lastly their mother's death. I imagine they found themselves alone in their now dead hometown, feeling washed up, lacking the practical and social skills to set off on their own (Vincent in particular), grieving the most pivotal person in their lives, and fit to burst with rage at the world. With their minds already cracked from their upbringing, and nothing to lose, it's easy to imagine how one thing led to another...Maybe some lost jackass gets a little too cocky with Bo at his mechanic shop, a fight ensues, Bo doesn't quite pull his punches like he knows he should and accidentally kills him. And then all it takes is a 'Yes, I know this is bad, Vince, but listen. You know how you've been having trouble sculpting like mama used to...?'

Anyway yes all this is to say this was a fantastic read! Thank you for sharing your thoughts, hope you don't mind me going on a mad ramble on your post haha. (Also could I ask you to link that study of a similar conjoined case? I've been looking for a real life counterpart to the twins' condition and could not find one for the life of me!)

Trudy refills Vincent’s cereal. He’s 2-3 years old and blind in one eye. He doesn’t need more cereal, he just needs his bowl rotated so he can see the cereal that was left over on his blind side. Not that we necessarily know how Vincent communicates without speech, but she hardly gives him time to answer her question about more before she’s refilling the bowl anyways. This is her approach to parenting her boys in general.

There’s no interest in fixing their actual issues. Rather than help Vincent to see what he already has in front of him, she’d rather add more, inadvertently also adding more onto the side he can’t see. At some point, this would just add to the issue. Overcompensation into overwhelm. Bo is brought in for breakfast kicking and screaming and it’s sort of evident why Trudy puts all her love into Vincent to the point of it being suffocating and unhelpful. Sure it could be a simple case of favoritism, but with the aspect of overcompensation specifically, it seems that she wants to balance her guilt over failing to parent one of her sons by pouring more effort than necessary into Vincent. Rather than giving the extra attention to Bo, it’s refilling a non-empty bowl of cereal.

I don’t think that necessarily mean she loves Vincent more. She finds him easier to parent. Fill the bowl whether or not he needs it because that’s easier than unpacking where Bo’s massive emotional outbursts are coming from. It seems more like love-bombing than genuine kindness. He’s “being such a good boy today,” but the implied part is an unsaid comparison to Bo. As twins, and conjoined twins at that, they’re not independent of each other. Vincent’s behavior exists only to contrast Bo’s, from her perspective. “Fix” his needs, and she can fix them both. Hence, preferring just to duct tape Bo to a chair than help him any.

Then Vincent grows up to become her protege, starting in his childhood but lasting until even after Trudy’s death. Over thirty years have passed since they were toddlers in those high chairs, but Bo gives a hint about why Vince got that ‘special privilege’ to not be as physically abused. “She always said that your talent would make up for what God took away from you.” Only, God didn’t take anything. Victor Sinclair doing illegal, unqualified surgery on his babies is why Vincent lost half of his face. Trudy only uses God’s name and religion as a shield for her own guilt about how her boys turned out. But it’s more likely she included Vincent in the wax business because she again, was dumping affection onto him over and over as her strategy.

Otherwise there isn’t as much favoritism between the boys. In their childhood photos, they both play piano, both play pool and baseball, both get to sit at the table with their birthday cake (without highchairs or bindings) and they play on the floor together. It's not entirely divisive between them, though it’s still obvious from which brother she’s slapping across his face and which brother she’s love-bombing which she’d prefer to deal with. Just not which she actually cares for more. Vincent wasn’t somehow spared from abuse in a house like the Sinclair household.

Interestingly, when Bo tells the story of Trudy and Victor, he mentions that once the Doc died, they were alone. Except, there’s at least one version of a prop newspaper stating that Trudy created a wax memorial for Victor. So this is just a false version of events most likely. Sure it could be that a decision changed, but there’s also the fact that, in the guns and ammo store, there’s a sign that says “Trudy’s Town or Wax.” And Bo tells Vincent, “We almost finished what mama started.” She’s also much older than the Trudy we see in the family photos and articles (even with the amount of cigarettes that woman smoked.) Ambrose is confirmed to have been abandoned for a decade, but to be turned into wax, Trudy would’ve had to die sometime between the abandonment of Ambrose and the present. Else she would’ve been properly buried most likely. The plan to fill Ambrose was hers, it’s just Bo that suggests using real humans (according to his apology to Vincent, he takes credit for the idea anyhow.)

Which makes her boys at least in their mid twenties when she died. In an older version of the script, Bo had killed her and Victor, but knowing it would put them all in foster care, that doesn’t quite make sense unless they were older. So the order of events is, Doc dying, the sugar mill closing, Trudy planning to reimagine Ambrose, and then dying herself.

The reason that’s important is because it’s emblematic of just how much pressure she was putting on both of her boys. And that’s not love. With two mentally ill, abused sons, (maybe three, since Lord only knows how they treated Lester once he came along,) that’s just manipulation. Victor and Trudy aren’t cartoon super villains for being bad to their boys. But when you can’t even just rotate a bowl slightly for your half blind little one, it’s shallow. Trudy has her cigarettes right in the boys faces in the opening and in most of the photos. Smoking was in one study linked to about 1/3rd of conjoined pregnancies, and in a similar case of conjoinment to the boys, one of the twins had lost an eye and had a prosthetic, but with minimal scarring because of the surgery being done in an actual legal hospital. It’s not about God taking anything, or about which is a little monsted and which is a very good boy- it’s about Trudy and Victor both messing up from the very beginning and causing the boys losses, then refusing to take accountability for it. Or, in the symbolic sense, to just do the right thing and turn a damn bowl of cheerios towards your blind kid.

[blackkatdraws]

Love Plague AU Narrator (Black) draw in Magma.

[fivewholeminutes]

So. Mister vessel the fourth has this. How do i call it. Keychain(?) hanging from his sleeve sometimes. With some tmbte runes. And it's pink, which is totally irrelevant to this post, but i felt the need to mention that. (Edit: people have told me it's actually red, but hey. Thank you, stage lighting, for making it look pink.) I could never find a photo clear enough to read them though. So I've done some serious CSI work to decipher them. AND THEY JUST SAY 'WORSHIP', BECAUSE OF COURSE THEY DO.

Bonus: he has another one with "IV" on the other sleeve. Personally i think it's endearing.

My struggles under the cut

I've tried editing the black and white photo above on my phone, trying to make it more clear and this is what i've got lmao

I've made it hella grainy but hey, at least i could (more or less) see the outline of some of the runes (and make up some new ones in the process lol). Idk why the doodles added later got also saved grainy...

Then I've checked the alphabet for possible choices

And realised it's just 'WORSHIP'. Weeks of asking myself what could that be. And it's. JUST THE EASIEST THING TO GUESS.

Initially i thought there's less letters, but nope. It's 7. It's worship.

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 23 thoughts:

So much happened in so few chapters, how do I even break this down?!?

First off, Colin had better stop fucking bonding with my daughter! And apologizing and making amends for past wrongs! I'm a huge fan of redemption arcs and second chances and that is being used against me! JUST LET ME HATE THIS MAN!!!!!!

My bug daughter is in prison but that's almost like, a minor side thing? It barely matters right now except that it gives some background structure. Compared to everything else the prison bit is just . . . a thing.

I'm in tears over bug horse. I'm bawling. I may never recover. RIP Atlas, you were the best of us.

TAYLOR GOES TO THERAPY!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT IS EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED!!!!!!

I love Jessica so much! She does such a good job. I want to bake her cookies as thanks but I'm not sure if that would trigger some type of conflict of interest.

Fucking Glenn. I want to hate him and love him all at the same time.

Is he an artist? Absolutely! He has a vision and it is beautiful.

But also if it comes down to "letting the world end or compromising said vision" he might be the kind of person who would watch the world burn with a tear running down his cheek, because at least it was beautiful.

Look I get it. My daughter is terrifying. But that isn't because bugs are scary. It's cause my daughter is terrifying. Making her use butterflies just means a bunch of people are gonna start having butterfly phobias.

Like come on, Clockblocker gets to break fundamental forces of the universe and cause people to question their very existence!

Do not try to tell me that someone getting time frozen and just . . . skipping a chunk of time because their mind is not part of the time stream for a few minutes would not provoke some deep thoughts of existential dread! Sure not in everyone, but not everyone is scared of bugs either! I just think it's very unfair.

The Adepts are fun. Sure powers aren't "magic" but might as well have fun with the idea! Besides it seems to be working and if I had powers I'd absolutely love to lean into a magical focus idea.

I am quite upset about the fact that during the whole Thirteenth Hour thing Weaver didn't get to shove bugs down Clockblocker's throat to save him. It would have been so poetic. Saving the day by shoving bugs down throats was still super amazing, I just wanted it to be Clockblocker.

It was the most extreme level of active awareness and minor "control" while being disabled that we've seen from Taylor so far though! Really curious to get more into that, the nature of passengers/shards, and all those things. I have so many thoughts, but they're all just speculation right now (I don't think writing 75 pages of theories that all end up being wrong is really gonna be very helpful).

“If anyone asks, you kicked their asses with butterflies.” Clockblocker gets it!

It was really cool to get more into different vibes of the world with the Vegas section! I love me some thinkers and strangers.

I'm very glad The Number Man used a sniper rifle. I would have been a little disappointed if he didn't after getting into his head in his interlude - it is just the perfect weapon for him. Motherfucker over here just bouncing bullets.

Finally got to see more Bambina after the little bit in arc 8. Her power is wild, I love it! Also Bambina's mom just shot right into the top contenders for "worst parent in Worm". Like, WTF lady.

August Prince is wild. Sucks when the most effective use of your power is "human shield" though.

Considering she had an interaction with The Number Man and Contessa, Taylor actually came out of it pretty good! Sure they lost the target they were trying to bring in, but I don't know that they really had a chance of keeping Pretender. Contessa isn't easy to stop.

The only problem I have with the Las Vegas Wards actions is hiring Bambina to break Pretender free. Otherwise ya, fucking ditch the Protectorate. Given the information they have it makes sense.

TAYLOR HAS FAN MAIL!!!!!!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Grue's letter was way to heartfelt. Tattletale clearly wrote most of it.

Like come on: "I could hit you, hug you, yell at you and hold onto you for hours all at the same time. It’s fitting that I want to kiss you and throttle you at the same time because that’s what you were to me for a long time. You drive me crazy and I can never understand what’s going through your head." This is totally Tattletale! She couldn't flirt with Taylor in her own letter, she had to be sneaky about it!

"You’re an idiot. I want you to know that. You’re an idiot, Skitter. You’re brilliant and reckless and I’m betting it makes sense to you to do this but you’re an idiot." - also Tattletale.

LOOK I'M GONNA MAKE THIS SHIT GAY AND THERE ISN'T ANYTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP ME!!!!!!!

Imp's letter might be my favorite.

Tattletale's actual letter ends with "See you there, hun?" Just. So fucking gay. Sorry I don't make the rules.

Speaking of gay, Rachel's letter!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wolfspider wolfspider wolfspider!

Like I mean come on

"Being around you wasn’t simple or quiet but things made more sense.  Your minion with dark hair said we need to be around people but I’m around people and still feel somethings missing." GAY

"Going to take puppies to your place again soon. Show the kids to them. Might help." SO GAY

"You have plan, okay. But if your plan means you’re thinking about fighting us you should know I am getting very good at hunting and skinning things." HOLY SHIT IT'S THE MOST LESBIAN THING EVER

"We both stay alive. Try hard." TOP-TIER GAY SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!

GGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY

AND THE SCENE WITH THE CHILDREN!!! AND THE BUTTERFLIES! AND THE DICE!!!!!!!!!!!

dies of joy

Seriously, 23.4 is the most beautiful chapter in Worm so far and it'll be very hard for it to be outdone.

I could talk about just that chapter for pages. It was perfect in every way. Even if I knew it had to end with Behemoth pretty early on. There was too much hope in that chapter for it to end any other way.

But in the middle of all that downward "oh fuck it's Behemoth" stuff we got an Undersiders reunion! With so much gay!

Like - “But you guys mean a lot to me.  I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, but I couldn’t without letting on that something was going on.  You’re my family, in a way.  As lame as it might be, I love you guys.” My head turned from Grue to Rachel to Tattletale as I said it.

SO FUCKING GAY

She starts at Grue sure but ends with Rachel and Lisa when saying "I love you". Certified gay.

So gay that even Imp agrees! Though I've been doing the long drawn out “Gaaaaaaayyyyyyy” since like arc 2. So Imp is a bit behind the curve here.

TAYLOR WANTS TO GO ON A DOG PARK DATE WITH RACHEL! IT'S THE MOST LESBIAN DATE POSSIBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!

Weaver's new flight suit is pretty neat. Dragon is a pretty good big sister.

Cody Interlude thoughts:

THIS motherfucker! I was waiting for him to show up again.

I am so mad. I'm so fucking mad.

Cody is the worst. He's pathetic and dumb.

And Accord just has to go and get killed by him in the dumbest way! GOD DAMMIT ACCORD I SIMPED FOR YOU SO HARD!!! AND THEN YOU DIE TO CODY! OF ALL PEOPLE! YOU CAN'T BE COOL IF YOU DIE TO CODY!

Chevy too! I thought he was cool and all, but he had to die to Cody. God. The worst.

ALSO MY BABY GIRL HE TRIED TO HURT MY BABY! THE ONE WHO ISN'T MY DAUGHTER!

SOMEBODY HELP TATTLETALE!

I did like seeing more of the mechanics of the Yàngbǎn after getting hints about how they work in the Lung interlude.

The power sharing plus the power amplification is a pretty broken combo tbh. Feels like there is some pretty neat stuff that could be accomplished with that.

Fuck this man though. Simmy just had to whisper to him and just dove right in. Cody can't even conceptualize what fighting back means, that would require him to grow as a person in literally any way.

Sucks for the Behemoth fight though. I guess my daughters are going to have to save the day. Again.