#its part of my growth its been with me ever since i got sick and taken up half my brainspace since | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

roger-that-cap · 4 years ago

Text

all the flowers will bloom

hades!natasha x persephone!reader

summary: you would have never tried to leave your mother if you knew that bringing that pomegranate tree back to life was your ticket to the underworld. or, maybe you would have, because it turned out that hades was quite the opposite of the evil goddess that you had been drilled to know.

warnings: my own take on greek mythology (apologies to greek people who may possibly see this), usage of both persephone and y/n, angry gods, this is a short series, angst and fluff!!

word count: 4.2k

this is part one!!

please guys i’m so excited for this one, already have so much written and planned!!

You were born from your mother thousands of years ago without so much as a whimper, and when you arrived after a particularly peaceful and short labor,, flowers bloomed for miles. You grew quickly, and you had gained the power of life within everything that grew. Your domain was everything that the light touched and below in the soil, and soon, you were the young goddess of nature and growth. If anyone wanted to find you, they could surely look at the trail of bright flowers that you left with every step of your feet.

The name you were born with was Persephone. But just as the humans wanted to make names for themselves, you wanted one of your own, too. One that was not overshadowed by your mother being Demeter, one of the twelve Olympian Gods, and the ever kind yet harsh Goddess of the Harvest. And so, you changed your name, like many of the others much older than you had done, and all but your mother and the nymphs that she charged to take care of you called you Y/N.

“Lady Persephone,” a soft voice called from behind you as you dipped your toes into your favorite pond, and you sighed when you looked over your shoulder even after recognizing the familiar voice. “Your mother wants you home soon.”

You knew that your mother did. She always wanted you home, away from the outside world- where you truly belonged. She didn’t want you anywhere that she couldn't walk twenty steps to get to you, despite you being two thousand years old. Your mother’s idea of a good day was when you stayed inside, and it wasn’t fair. When you could convince her to let go of your leash just a little, she sent nymphs to watch you, girls you weren’t even close to. They were so focused on not angering your mother that they hardly cared about what you thought. But deep down, you understood. Your mother’s hand was just as gentle as it was harsh, and like the harvest she watched over, she only gave you what you gave her to work with. If you produced her mind with the equivalent of dry soil and broken land, she would be unruly, fickle, quick to fall apart in frustration. If you watered her and gave her the amount of sunlight she needed, she would bless you. She had been that way since the dawn of her time.

“I don’t feel like returning, I’ve only just gotten here.” You weren’t looking at them, but you could practically feel the way that they were eyeing each other, getting more nervous with every passing second. You felt the bottom of the shallow part of the lake that you were in with your foot, and you smiled at the sound of silence, knowing that it would only last for a few minutes.

“Your mother will be quite angry if something happens to you, my lady.”

“Nothing is going to happen for that reason,” you sighed, and when you got a few moments of silence, you knew that they knew you were right.

You walked through life practically fearlessly. From birth, you were deeply connected to every animal . You had no reason to fear even the most vicious bear or boar, and you could not die from poisonous plants of any kind. No minor or major god who knew your mother would even dare come close to you with any ill intent, and humans never came where you liked to be. You were probably the safest god of them all, besides Zeus himself.

“Please don't make me return to that house so early,” you pleaded softly, making sure to not sound too whiny. “I need fresh air. I need to feel grass under my feet. How am I supposed to be the goddess of vegetation if I cannot even see the vegetation?”

If you had been paying more attention, you would have felt the way that the grass started to sway and the whispers of plants all around you. And you surely would have felt the way that part of the ground opened up to reveal your mother, who had heard your entire small speech. “My, what a talker you are.”

You turned around to face her, and she was already giving you a look before she started to talk to you yet again. “I have already told you to not guilt these kind nymphs into doing you any favors. You’re lucky that they still want anything to do with you, you trouble maker.”

“It’s not my fault that you don’t trust me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I don’t trust men,” she said, her voice hushed. “They are cruel, and they are disgusting. And you are not to be alone when they could be around.”

“There are none here.”

“You wouldn’t know until it’s too late,” she reasoned, and she held a hand out for you. You grimaced when she pulled your legs out of the water and dismissed the nymphs kindly, and they jumped into the water themselves and disappeared. “I cannot trust many with you, my flower. Do not be rude to the very few that I do.”

You scowled as she turned her back, a face that you had never quite grown the courage to make while she was still watching you. You could rattle off many people that your mother had scared away and told you to stay far away from, and that included humans, most men, and a few of the gods that she didn’t trust to not attempt to take you away.

That was her biggest fear, though she never said it explicitly. It was clear that her fierce protectiveness came from her terror. Young girls were always at risk by being taken, by gods and men alike who had no regard for the opinion or feelings of women. It seemed that every hundred years or so, a huge war would break out on earth, and typically, it was because one man’s wife became another’s hostage. And between gods… it was not unheard of for them to take young goddesses and make them bear heirs. None of the ones that you were close with ever did anything like that, but that didn’t make the threat less real. Your mother made sure that you knew of that.

“Don’t speak to Hermes alone,” your mother would say, her voice half full of fondness. “He means well most of the time, but he is capable of fast talking you into selling your time and your soul.” And then there was another string of advice, such as, “ Never go too far out in the sea. Poseidon is moody, and he may not spare you if you start to drown. It takes a village to anger him, but go out of your way to not push Zeus. He is the mightiest of all, and if he wishes to strike you down, he will.” And with every single harsh word about them, she would always say that she doubted that anyone would truly ever wish harm towards you, the youngest of the young gods, the harmless little Goddess of Growth.

Except for Hades.

“She is pure evil,” your mom had hissed out, and you remembered flinching back at how angered she suddenly was by just the thought of the ancient goddess, and you knew from stories that the nymphs used to tell you that your mother and Hades went way back. And though you didn’t know the full story, you certainly understood that they knew each other not in the best of ways.

“She is capable of murdering anything with even a sliver of life in it, and she reigns over the dead. Anyone who is condemned to have such a gloomy job for all of eternity must be evil, and that she is. If you ever see her, or ever start to feel the choking feeling of death in the air and are not with me, you are to run until you cannot run anymore, do you understand me?” She had made you nod and tell her that you understood verbally, and still, even as days passed, the tension never left her body.

Days later, while nursing a flower as slowly as possible from its bud, you called for her. “Mother,” she turned her head and smiled when she saw what you were doing, and then she responded softly, urging you to continue. “What really happened between you and the Goddess of the Dead?” Her smile dropped instantly.

You never really got the full story about what happened.

§§

You had seen what was happening to you happen to others hundreds of times, mostly humans. Your favorite humans were the ones just like you, young women with parents who were worried sick about everything. And soon, you realized a pattern. Every single one of those children had rebelled in ways, some more drastic than others. It took you two thousand years and a few extra nights for you to realize that it was your turn. You were going to sneak out from right under your mother’s nose, and you were going to be back before the morning. Unless, of course, you found something worth staying for. Something worth risking the wrath of your mother for.

It took weeks for her to leave you alone, even if it was for a second. And for that one instance while she wasn’t breathing down your throat, you shot off like an arrow, out of her sight before she even realized that you had been brave enough to run. You hadn’t ever had to run, but it felt exhilarating. You could feel the wind against your skin and the petals of each flower lovingly brushing against your legs. It felt more freeing than growing wildflowers by your cabin, under the watchful eye of an Olympian and her guard dogs that came in the beautiful form of nymphs.

You had never felt so good in your entire two thousand years.

Feeling life had always been something you could do, and you could feel it even more now that you were running, breathing in through your nose and out of your mouth like you had seen soldiers do. With every breath that expanded your lungs, you felt like you could feel trees swaying, or hear leaves singing to you. It grew more addicting, and before you even knew it, you were running until you didn’t recognize where you were. You slowed down with a smile on your face, chuckling to yourself when you thought about how furious your mother was going to be. And then you felt it.

Something to the left of you was terribly, terrifyingly wrong. The life in the area was thriving, but something, a cave it seemed, was crawling with the scary and breathtaking feeling of death. You had felt it before, while discovering lifeless dear or helping your mother bless crops that humans thought had no hope. But you had never felt death on the scale that you were in that moment, and even though the feeling was making you more and more sick by the second, you couldn’t help but approach the cave, the darkest thing in your vision while everything else had enough colors to satisfy your eyes for the rest of your life.

You didn't know what was in the cave. It could have been a dead person for all you knew, but your gift was more or less affecting the cycle of life. You could help. And help, you would. So, you trudged towards the cave and stepped in, your hand covering your throat once you felt the constricting feeling come back even stronger than before. And then, in the dim light, you saw it.

It was a tree, one so dead that it was nearly unrecognizable as one. It had shrunk into itself, almost to the size of a bush, and you could see that the fruits on it had shriveled up, and like the rest of the tree, lost all color. You frowned and uncovered your throat, stepping forward as you watched the dry thing in pity. You reached out for it, bottom lip jutting out as you tried to understand what on earth had happened for it to appear like that. Before you could even ask yourself why you did it, you reached forward and touched the thing with your hand, and like it had known you all along, it started to slowly grow.

It took you a few long minutes to grow it to a point where you recognized the tree, and saw that it was growing pomegranates. The fruit grew redder by the second, and the feeling of death and decay was leaving, but for some reason, traces of it still lingered below, and you figured that it was in the soil. You grinned as you nursed the tree back to life, and the inside of the cave seemed to be just a little brighter.

“I wonder how long you’ve been left here to rot,” you murmured to yourself, your fingers itching to grab one dark purple pomegranate and bite into it, but you knew better. You had just brought it back to life, and eating a part of it would have been cruel. “I wonder if you were even prettier back before-” the ground beneath you made an odd noise, like the earth was taking its first shaky breath, and you braced yourself against the wall of the cave. You gasped when it came back even stronger, and a short scream left your throat when you felt the ground open up beneath you and swallow you whole.

§§

You must have screamed the whole way down, because when you landed harshly on your back, you heard echoes of yourself. You turned and coughed, shaking your head to get rid of the stars that flooded your vision. And then, the second your airways opened, they tightened again, the feeling of death so strong that you thought that you were well on your own way.

You coughed again and clawed at your throat, and then turned on your side as you fought for even just a sliver of breath, and then even with your blurry vision, you saw something huge and dark barreling your way.

“What’s she doing here?” You couldn’t answer. You hardly even knew if they were talking about you. You were still losing it on the ground, gripping at your torn dress and clawing at your throat like that would make it open up.

“She's not human.”

“Wait, wait, she’s not even dead!”

Somehow, the feeling of dread and darkness got even darker, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the overwhelming feeling of death surrounding you like a heavy blanket. “What is all the commotion about?”

Wherever you were grew silent. You heard people scrambling away, leaving you alone with the newcomer. The owner of the voice commanded everything, and you heard the distinct sound of heeled feet coming your way, clicking against stone. And then, right before you lost consciousness, there was a feather-light touch on your throat, right where you felt it was constricting the most, and then you felt the weight on your chest lift off all at once.

You barely got in three breaths before someone shook you, and you blinked rapidly before turning your head towards whoever was grabbing you so boldly. Your eyes focused, and then you almost lost your breath all over again.

You had no time to ogle over the obviously powerful woman and the way she looked. Even if you had time, it would have been ruined by the way she was scowling at you like you were the bane of her existence. “How did you get here?”

You took in a choppy breath. “I don't know. I don’t know where I am.” You looked away from the angry woman and saw your surroundings, and immediately, your heart dropped to your toes.

It was gray. Gloomy. Without any sign of life, not even little buds of grass. There was no color besides a lazy river that was the lightest blue you had ever seen, and it added barely anything to the sight in front of you. The entire place seemed to be made of rock, like one big cave, and the feeling you were getting made you sick. You could breathe again, but something was right. Wherever you were, you were absolutely not supposed to be there.

The woman’s eyes were still narrowed on you, but you didn’t miss the way that her face lit up in the slightest of ways, and then rested at a look of understanding. She let go of you. “You fixed my tree, didn’t you?”

“Your tree?” You repeated, shaking your head and hiding the trembling of your hands by playing with the hem of your dress, something that your mother said that you should never do. It dawned on you seconds later, and you frowned. “The pomegranate tree? It was yours?”

“Of course it’s mine. How were you unaware?”

Before you could let yourself get offended by the woman’s harshness, you crossed your arms for a different reason. “How dare you let something die like that? You left it to rot, I could feel the death from miles away,” you exaggerated, but it still didn’t move the woman. “If you plant something and call it yours, it’s your responsibility to take care of it, not to let it die.”

“My plants never grow, young god.”

You scoffed, even though your mother would be embarrassed that you made the sound with such confidence. “Young god?” You straightened your posture even as your fear grew, and the stranger seemed to grow more and more amused by you. “We’ve never met. It’s bold of you to assume my age.”

“I’ve met all the Olympians, so tyou can’t be one of them, and you’re no demigod, either,” she said, and your heart clenched at the fact. You knew no one who had met all twelve of the major gods that wasn’t one. The woman was certainly a god, it was as obvious as anything in the world, but you had no idea of what. “And you glow like the morning sun. You’re a young god.”

“Maybe so,” you said softly. “But I request that you take care of the things you decide to create.”

“Most people don’t get brave enough to request things from me,” she mused, and then her crossed arms went to her side. “Do you lack the skills to look around you and infer?”

“I suppose I do today,” you shrugged, and she gave a light smirk, almost like you were her entertainment for the day. You could hear your mother’s voice in your head though, telling you to run and that this woman was no good, no matter how at ease she seemed in the moment. In fact, the closer she got to you and the longer she stood there, the more you felt death swirling in the air and trying to pierce through some sort of protection and finish you off for good.

“You’re in the Underworld, young god.” Your breath was stolen right out of your chest, and you could barely see the faint look of triumph on her face. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know what that tree was,” she said, and for some reason, her voice seemed to tease you more than reprimand you.

You knew vaguely of what it meant. Now that you knew it was the tree, the one tree on all heaven and earth that you had no business touching, you knew who it belonged to, and what it did. It belonged to the woman before you, the god whose presence was making you more and more terrified by the second. Now, you knew exactly who she was. “You?” You sputtered, and she lifted a perfect brow. “You’re Hades?”

You don’t know what you expected. Maybe a woman dressed in all back wit long, dark hair, and a sickly smile. Maybe you expected for her to look as terrifying as the thought of death was. You expected some one who looked much more terrifying than the red headed woman before you, even though she was without a doubt intimidating.

“I prefer another name, but that will do from you,” she said, and your jaw dropped. “And you saved my tree.” You knew you had, but the consequences of the far ff tale that you had never imagined would apply to you were running around in your head. You were kicking yourself for being drawn to the tree in the first place, and for your morbid curiosity and the way that you ran straight out of your mother’s suffocating but protecting arms. “Do you know what that means, young god?”

Your voice was shaky, almost not even there when you muttered the word “yes” and stared off into the distance, cursing yourself for not listening to what your mother had told you ever since you could remember.

“I hope you have enough strength for the entire garden, young god.”

You were bound to Hades and her realm by age old magic, and there was nothing that you or your mother could do until you found a way to do the impossible; make the Garden of Hell grow.

Your blank stare must have made her uneasy, because she snapped her fingers in front of your face. When you blinked, you saw something huge come barreling your way, and once you realized what it was, your heart fell into your stomach. She had summoned a huge, three headed dog to come and lean over the both of you, eyes yellow and staring at you with intrigue that made you want to screech. Instead, you swallowed. “Please. You can let me go, I won’t tell.”

“Its magic almost as old as I am, placed by Hecate. You may know her as Wanda.” She gave you a shrug, but she hardly looked bothered. “Her spell cannot be broken, not even by herself.”

Your breathing was accelerating, and you saw Hades look at you strangely, and you were sure she could sense your extreme fear. You locked eyes with the dog, the dog even you had heard of despite your mother cursing the owner’s name. “I don’t know how I fixed your tree, and I doubt I could do it again. Please, let me leave.”

“By bringing that tree back to life, you’ve made your decision and signed your name in blood.” You both ignored the pitiful sound that escaped your throat. “There’s nothing that I can do about it.”

You gulped. “My mother will come looking for me,” you said, and you watched her unbothered face drop just a bit, and then she tilted her head to the side. You had gotten her. “She won’t stop until she finds me and brings me home.”

“You say this like I should be afraid of your mother, who is no doubt a nymph of some far off forest.” You made a face. She simply shrugged, her shoulder length red hair bouncing a bit. “She’s nothing to me.”

Being a nymph was the furthest thing from dishonorable. They were loyal and always very beautiful. You almost cried when you realized that you would never see your overbearing nymphs again. “My mother is not a nymph.”

“I do not care for whatever minor goddess birthed you, young goddess. Not even Zeus could break this, and you’d best understand that.”

“My mother is friends with Hecate. She will make her find a way to release me, Hades.”

There was a pause in the conversation, but none of the tension faded. If anything, it only built on the silence. “How is it that you’re a god, yet I’ve never seen you?” Hades asked, a frown on her face.

“My mother keeps you far away from me because she despises you.” You spat, and you saw a flash of light behind her eyes, and she breathed out harshly. “I was never supposed to meet you.”

“The Fates have spun your destiny a different way than either of us have hoped, then.” She said, her voice rough as she looked you right in your eyes. It was then that you noticed how pale her blue eyes were, and the emotion that lacked. Her pink lips curled down all of a sudden, and then her eyes were narrowed. “Demeter, isn’t it? She’s your mother?”

You gathered all of the courage that you had left after everything that happened. The feeling of death was still intimidating, and even worse was the way Hades commanded the space with her hellhound. “Yes. And she will find me, and she will take me home.”

“This is a one way ticket until you can fix my garden, flower girl. Believe me, I don’t particularly want you here, either.” She looked you up and down, eyes lingering on the crown of flowers on your forehead and the way you had bands of them wrapped around your wrists and ankles. You were the brightest thing down there, and it was obvious that she wasn’t used to seeing things so… alive. “Your mother is just going to have to be upset.” She gave you one last look, her eyes on the dress made of fabric and flowers for a second too long to be categorized as a fleeting glance. She muttered something in a language that was foreign to you, and her unimaginably tall dog stood all the way up at attention, slightly baring its teeth at you until you forced yourself to look away from it.

And then they were gone. And you were alone. By yourself in the Land of the Dead, the one place a flower would never grow. In the one place where you could truly perish.

*******

hi guys! i really hope you guys liked this one, this idea has been like swirling around in my mind for months and i can’t get it to leave. it’s s much fun right now to write though, so i hope at least one of y’all enjoyed this lol

if you happen to like this and would like to be placed on one of my tragic tag lists, it’s a definite yes for me! thank you guys for reading this

#marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #natasha romanoff x reader #my fics #natasha x reader #hades!natasha x persephone!reader #natasha Romanoff fluff #natasha series #mythology au #greek mythology au #hades!natasha #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanov fluff #black widow fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfic

399 notes · View notes

morbidanthem · 3 years ago

Text

Growth and Evolution (Pregnancy Headcanon)

-> A03 Here <-

Continuity - Pokémon Sword and Shield

Character(s) - Leon | Fem!Reader Parring - Leon/Fem!Reader Genre - Cute, Fluffy Rating - T for Teen and Up Warning - Mentions of Sickness, Getting Sick

Word Count - 996

[Piers] | [Raihan] | [Leon]

✏️Written 06/27/2021✏️

Leon

Sitting in Leon's cold and dark room at his parent's house definitely helped your nausea subside quite a bit.

You let out a loud sigh, as you threw one of his pillows over your eyes, doing your best to block out all forms of outside stimuli on your senses.

You had felt a little ill this morning, but after you got sick you hoped it would subside on its own long enough that you could enjoy Leon's family BBQ.

It had been a long time since his family was able to get together like this.

Once you've gotten here, though, between the smell of the meat cooking on the grill and the loud sounds of everyone's conversations and laughter.

Well… you just had to excuse yourself for a while to let your body calm down and rest.

Now, here you were, basically hiding in Leon's childhood bedroom, while everyone else was outside having a good old time.

You were almost afraid you might have ruined the BBQ with your absence, considering how excited Leon's Mother was to see you again.

Though, hearing Hop had goaded Gloria into another Pokémon Battle made you relieved that they didn't miss you as much as you thought.

Though, hearing the heated battle outside between her Inteleon on his Rillaboom made you wish you were outside to see it.

You love watching Pokémon Battles, especially battles between such strong and promising young trainers.

You heard Hop shout in defeat, as his Rillaboom was knocked out by Inteleon.

'Dang! That must've been one heck of a Knockout!'

'That tears it!'

You decided enough was enough.

You weren't going to let your body ruin one of the few moments of peace you had gotten in your hectic and busy life.

So, with perhaps too much gusto, you sprang out of The Champion's Bed- and marched right downstairs to the front door.

Only, to knock dead into Leon, as he had opened the front door at the same time as you.

You yelped in shock, as the sudden impact of his body was enough to knock you over.

"Sorry!" He had shouted, grabbing your arms and catching you before you fell. "You alright, My Love?" He asked in a softer tone, pulling you closer to him.

You sighed softly, relishing in the touch of his warm and toned body.

It always felt so nice to be held by him.

"Yeah, you just startled me more than anything!" You laughed, turning to look up at him, as he continued to hold you in his arms.

"Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were feeling ok- you left in such a hurry…" He mumbled, burying his face into your neck.

You sighed, melting into his touch, as he held you tighter.

He was so kind to be so worried about you.

How did you get so lucky?

It felt like forever since he held you like this, ever since he has not only the Battle Tower to worry about…

There were also talks and rumors that he may become the next chairman of the Marco Cosmo Corporation as well.

You missed him.

You had missed kissing him, and holding him, and just… just being like this.

Ka-Ping!

"Hm? Wonder what that is?" You mumbled, slightly disappointed, wiggling around in Leon's grip to grab the Rotom Phone out of your pocket.

New Message From 'Doctor's Office'

"Oh! I bet that is my Lab Results!" You spoke softly, Leon humming in response, as he never stopped softly stroking your back.

‘Congratulations! According to your hCG levels, 288,000 mIU/mL, it would indicate you are about 12 weeks Pregnant! Please Call us at your earliest convenience to discuss an Action Plan. Thank you, and have a wonderful weekend! - Doctor Hunter'

You had felt your knees give out, as you heard Leon shout as he braced you against him once more.

You had released the grip you had on your phone, causing it to float, as to avoid shattering the piece of hardware on the ground.

"What? What's wrong?!" He had shouted, as he looked up to your Rotom Phone that had begun to float in the air around him.

"L-Lee-" You whispered, trembling in his grip, as you watched his face become rather serious.

Then, in an instant, he began to smile and laugh and shout like a mad man.

Before you could even open your mouth to protest, he had you lifted into his arms, as he began to spin around.

He was so overcome with joy and delight, he couldn't hold it in.

"This is incredible! I can't believe it! You've made me so happy!"

His shouting and twirling had caught the attention of the younger Trainers, who all came running over to see what had caused Leon to have such a huge outburst.

After Hop, Victor, and Gloria heard- their shouting had caught the attention of the other adults at the BBQ.

All of whom had gathered around you two to congratulate you.

"Lee, I think I'm gonna be sick. Put me down! Ughhhh!" You shouted, still rather playfully, lightly slapping his shoulder.

You really did start to feel a little queasy.

"Leon! Put her down!" You heard his Grandmother shout at him.

He compiled, and you began to clutch your stomach to try and ease the nausea you felt.

"It explains why I've been feeling so odd." You mumbled, as you felt your stomach churn roughly again.

"E-Excuse me!" You shouted, as you pushed past everyone to run into the house, feeling your stomach ready to expel its contents for the fourth time that day.

"Ah, I remember my first Pregnancy- I was as sick as a Poocheyna!" You heard his Grandmother joke, as you were running inside to use the restroom.

You really hoped this part of it wouldn't last long… though, you were more than happy to know you had a strong support network to help you and Leon along the way.

#Pokemon Sword #Pokemon Shield #Pokemon Imagine #Champion Leon #Pokemon Leon #Leon X Reader #One Shot #Cute #Fluffy

160 notes · View notes

bakatenshii · 4 years ago

Text

Rapture

Oikawa Tooru x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

word count: 2.8k

TW: 18+, smut, incest, dub/noncon, mild somnophilia

A/N: I started writing this in my notes bcos I wanted to get out a cheeky Oikawa drabble for his birthday, didn’t wanna commit to a proper fic bcos fuck knows I’ve been writing my first ever fic for over a month. Technically this is my first official fic I finished! So much love for my wife @blahkugo for listening to me sob and whine about this & beta-ing it, also to @lookslikeleese who created this brainchild of Tooru-nii with me.

rap·ture

/ˈrapCHər/

a feeling of intense pleasure or joy.

(according to some millerian teaching) the transporting of believers to heaven at the Second Coming of Christ

Blood is thicker than water, in all forms and shapes and sizes. The guilt of blood lays thicker, sweaty and clammy, threatening to matte his perfectly coiffed hair. The guilt lies limp on his childhood bed, delicate legs dangling just a hair away from toeing the carpet.

You couldn’t reach when you were younger, he’d always help you down with all the gentleness of a protective mother and its cub. Long slender fingers tucking under your armpits to lift you from his stiff mattress to stand you on the soft carpeting.

Guilt, in the form of his baby sister laying vulnerability-up, presenting to him in taunt, as if it’s a gift from Satan himself. You won’t know, will never know, It promises. You’re out cold, too many cups of trashy house-party drinks in, your night was bound to end up like this one way or another— exposed and defenseless in a man’s bed. You should be lucky it’s your own big brother’s.

He curses himself for still having been awake when you called him at half four in the morning, curses himself for staying up studying tapes of his opposing team. Bad habits die hard. You were loopy, slurring your words, and all he could hear were the warm familiar sound of ‘niichan, niichan’ tinkling through the static. He had the keys clanking in his hands before he even registered the other voices across the line; deep, low, predatory— of men.

The drive there felt like a blur, tunnel visioning only on the number plate you’d sloppily sent him three times, each varying in one digit. It wasn’t even the right address, it didn’t match your location on his phone.

He saw crowds, loud bass reverberating through to his sleek car that stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of beat-up sedans and trucks. He saw limbs, too many limbs, entangling together in a frenzy of sweat and lust; limbs on curves and humps of silhouettes, limbs on your small frame leaning into the corner of the dimly lit room. Then he saw red.

He couldn’t hear the shouts and hollers of his name, crazed fangirls pawing at him for an autograph, a picture, any type of affection from The Oikawa Tooru himself, international volleyball superstar with too many sponsorships under his belt. He reached out an arm towards you, and you clung to him like a magnetic pull, whole body suctioning onto his and tittering out a string of ‘niichan came to pick me up’ and a fit of giggles.

His first conscious breath was taken once he got you in his car. He didn’t want to look at you, didn’t want to assess the damages lest he drove his car straight into the dastardly party if he saw any hint of protrusion. He didn’t; you were fine. You seemed fine, too. You were all-too happy to see him, bragged to him ‘I bet them that you would come pick me up if I called you.’

You told him you missed him, ‘missed niichan so much, he never even bothered to call when he came back to Japan’. Tooru sighed, half part relief, half part guilt. He told you he couldn’t bring you back to his hotel, had to bring you home, because imagine the scandal if he got papped.

It was a lie, he couldn’t give a damn if he got papped, he could easily have explained that it was his own sister; he couldn’t give himself up to the safety of his own enclosed room. His room with no security net of Mum and Dad threatening to barge in, his room where he was free to do whatever he wanted.

He drove you home.

You begged him to pick you up and carry you upstairs, because your feet hurt, they’re so sore from dancing all night. He complied, using all his decade-molded muscles to pull you into his chest and his heart sank to his gut at the realization that you weighed like nothing to him; just like you had when you were younger.

You were bigger now, grown, an adult, but he had grown all the same. It was like a cruel joke— no matter how much you grew, he’d parallel your growth so he would always be just that much stronger than you, that much bigger. The perfect size to protect you. The perfect size to hurt you.

He was directed to his own room rather than yours, with the excuse that yours was too close to the master bedroom, too risky to wake your parents up. His feet moved before his mind could stop him, muscle memory bringing him to the space he’s barely stepped foot in since he was eighteen.

It was too familiar, whole body transcending back to his childhood, back to the innocence of your relationship before he’s tainted it with his twisted perversions. His arms laid you down on his bed, hands finding the straps of your heels to pick off before you thumped back onto his bed, sprawled out and fast asleep.

He’s been staring at your vulnerable placid silhouette splayed on his bed for what feels like minutes, hours. He can’t bring himself to tuck you in, can’t trust his limbs to function how he instructs them to. His skin crawls at the gust of wind kissing the sweat embalming his body, but he doesn’t let himself strip off the suffocating layers. He wants to bask in the physical manifestation of his disgust, nausea, let it remind him of his twisted perversions he can never, ever indulge in.

You shiver, and he jumps. Your tiny body is quivering in chills, begging him to warm it up. He moves with the grace and caution of a robber on the prowl for an expensive jewel, gently snaking his arms under the crook of your knee and top of your spine, lifting you up and away from him like he’s terrified— disgusted, by you.

He lifts the covers and daintily drapes it over the small rise and fall of your chest, pinching the top with only two fingers. A deep breath, a moan, a soft ‘niichan’, and he thinks his heart has stopped completely.

He’s frozen, the hammering in his chest arguing that no, he’s still very much alive, and spares a glance down at you. Your eyelids are fluttering, lips softly pouting, and unmistakably still asleep. He’s mid sigh of relief when he feels a small hand wrap around his arm, and for the second time that night he thinks he’s died.

All the gravity weighing him down disappears as he lets himself be tugged down onto the bed, the weight of his body crushing your tiny one, but he can’t bring himself to move. He’s too scared, he’s horrified.

He can feel two dainty arms loop around his neck and cage his head into the side of your face. He can feel the palpitations in his chest, heart hammering straight into yours, tangling with your soft cadenced beats, reaching in and provoking it to waltz to the same fatal rhythm. He can feel his trousers strain and his blood run cold.

Deep breaths to the count of the tick and tocking of the clock on the wall. He feels blurry, vision blotchy, skin prickling with every flood of blood traveling south. He wills it to stop, begs for it to spare him, he’ll behave, he’ll never let his mind wonder to you ever again, he promises.

God is all merciful, but God has long given up on him. Satan wants to watch his world burn, collapse, and dance in the ashes of his crumbling dignity. It teases him with the hilt of your soft body moving to press into his, crawling into his arms caging you in, willfully entering the den holding a ravenous lion fighting its own fangs.

Your eyes flutter open, gaze finding his with striking precision, and smile. It’s the same smile you’ve given him his whole life, the trust and love carved into every quirk of the lip. It shatters his dignity, stomps on it with childish fervor, and Tooru chokes on the breath coming out.

He feels you nuzzling closer, can feel your hair tickling his chin, and prays for forgiveness to any God willing to listen. None do— he’s too far gone. His hand’s reaching to cradle the back of your head as he plants the softest kiss on your cheek with all the practiced grace of a man begging for salvation.

Your eyes stare straight into his with undeterred conviction, glazed over with equal parts alcoholic daze and pure, unadulterated adoration. There’s not enough oxygen traveling to his brain to justify his actions, no amount of repentance would excuse his sins. His lips press into yours, so gently it feels like a mere ghost of breath, quivering in prayers for forgiveness.

A shift; small warm body squirming under his arms, shuffling closer. It catches the tent between his legs, and his whole body twitches like it’s been stung. He barely chokes down the whimper that threatens to come out.

He can feel your hands locking behind his hair, pulling your body infinitely closer to his, smushing your soft tits into his hard chest as he feels the breath sucked out of him by the Devil himself. There’s no more feigned chastity, all abstinence launched aside as he feels a little tongue prod at his lips. They open to let yours in, sucking on it as if it’ll bring his very breath back.

He doesn’t let himself wonder if it’s okay, he knows it’s not; it’s wrong, so wrong, on so many levels. He’s given up trying to please a Holy deity, Satan can take him whole if it means he can ravish in his sick twisted fantasies. He slots a leg between yours, letting the two pairs tangle and waltz to the symphony of your matching heartbeats, finally synching in a virulent tempo.

Breaths turn to pants, turn to unmistakable moans, and Tooru has to pull back to clamp a hand over your mouth in warning. The imagery of his long slender fingers covering more than half your face sends jolts down his body at the same time he realizes it’s him whining out so desperately.

He looks back at your face, beady, glassy, needy eyes peering back at him in sheer devotion, and he shuts his eyes in pure agony as his heart clenches in pangs of guilt, while his adulterous cock twitches in revelation. The warm soft breaths fan his palm, lips puckering underneath to peck softly at his fingers in hopes of escape; he thinks he might cum untouched.

His hand yanks back in shock, in horror, in disgust. But your hands clasped firmly behind hair pulls him back in, and he whispers out a prayer before a soft, “We can’t.” His eyes bore into yours, begging for mercy, begging you to let him go so he can suffer for his sins.

You don’t respond, not immediately. He feels his face pulled into yours and a distinct moisture building up on his thigh wedged between your much smaller legs. Wet— the suction on his tongue, the grinding on his leg, everything’s wet, and damp, and he thinks his mind might be drowning.

He can hear whines, pitched in desperation, and he’s certain they’re from you this time. His arm moves to grip at your hips, cupping your supple mound to shift it up the sheets and press your cunny against his straining erection. His hips buck on instinct, grazing the drooling slit covered only by a thin piece of cotton.

His mind goes blank, vision patching, and it’s too fast, too much, “please, Tooru-nii”— he’s crying. There’s tears stinging the corners of his eyes while he chokes out a string of ‘no, no, no’. He can’t slow the erratic humps against his lil sister’s cunt, the fingers digging into your hips marking you with patches of blooming purple and green, ‘I love you, niichan’.

It’s a knee-jerk reaction; he yanks his body back, takes sharp inhales of breath, until he can open his eyes to look at you again. Panic and nausea coat his tongue where it once tasted like you, but he’s met with the same look of pure adoration you gave him before he tainted your body with sin.

He realizes your hands are still straining to reach the back of his neck where they were before he wrenched his body away. They’re laying gently on his shoulders, twirling lazily at the strands of his hair curling around the base. Tears are flowing down his cheeks, or maybe it’s one single continuous tear, and his body is wracked with guilty desperation.

There’s no malice in your expression, no accusatory anger, and most of all, no disgust. Your face is painted with bliss, and joy, and love— Tooru snaps.

He’s pushing your shoulders back until they meet his singular pillow, and crawls down to nest in the space between your thighs. Large palms hook under your knees and push back until they touch your shoulders, and he moans when he sees your arms reach out to hook them in place obediently.

He wants to cherish this moment, burn the image into his brain for years to come, however many he’s spared, but his loins burn with years of yearning. He grants himself one glance at your tiny frame spread open for him, revels in the sheer devotion in your eyes, and plunges his face into the drenched cotton covering your core.

You moan out his name in a wanton reaction as he inhales your sweet toxins like he’s trying to drown— he is, he has no reason to live past this moment he sins, no right to live as he indulges in his sick perversions.

He can feel each shake and tremor of your thighs above his head as he sucks and licks at the soaked cotton, rendered nothing but an useless scrap now. Each suck is paired with a deep whine, echoing through his now-barren room. With one swift move he pulls off your panties and let it dangle between your ankles hanging above your bodies. Slick lines drip from the wet rag, stretching to connect back to your drooling pussy.

Five seconds— that’s how long he allows himself to marvel at your leaking slit, lips pink and puckered around the clenching hole. His cockhead drenches through his pants, so painfully hard a soft breath could send him tumbling over.

But he doesn’t allow himself to touch it, it’s not about him; it’s about you. Your devotion, mercy— your sheer, unadulterated, unwavering love for him. It’s about you; you deserve the best, you deserve it all, you deserve someone that’s not him.

He licks up, tongue flat, and slowly follows the dip between your folds until he suctions onto your swollen bud. His lips give it a soft peck, before wrapping around it and enclosing it in the hot heat of his mouth.

He has half a mind to snake his hand up to clamp over your mouth, stop the loud moans and sobs from coming out, but each wail shoots jolts of arousal straight to his leaking dick; he can’t bring himself to shut it down, despite how good you look with his long fingers wrapped around your face.

With every long lap, he pulls more cries out of you, and by the time he prods his tongue into your needy hole, you’re clenching down on him, sucking back on the muscle. You’re close, he can feel it. His tongue fucks into you without any of the mercy you’ve graced him, hips rutting into the bedsheet in tangent to your growing squeals.

The palpitations hammering in his heart synchronizes with the pulse of your cunt, weaving into a fatal rondo before everything stops; his hips, your cries, the air closes in on your writhing bodies as he paints his pants in shame and sin.

He allows his peripherals to roam your body; thighs indented with tiny crescents by your dainty fingers, mouth agape with your cute pink tongue lolling out— he swallows down his guilt, letting it scorch his insides before coating his cock threatening to twitch back to life.

He watches your hands drop down from their determined grip, thumping lightly as they hit his bed. He gingerly folds your legs back onto the flat surface before dipping down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. He can feel your arms shake in attempt to reach out and cuddle him in, but give out to fatigue.

Your eyes flutter closed, lips molding back to that soft smile ever-present in his presence, and he thinks he hears a faint whisper of, ‘I love you, Tooru-nii.’

Placid, limp, he watches as your body loses energy and drains into the mattress below. It slaps him in the face, presents him with a trophy, a golden star stamped with a big fat ‘Sin’ calligraphed on. His world collapses around him, buries him in the debris of his crumbled dignity, and the Devil dances.

2K notes · View notes

whyjm · 4 years ago

Text

Why I did not like the Spn finale

This is gonna be a long post..

I cannot get over my thoughts about how it ended and how bad I feel about it. I am so angry, sad and feel so utterly disappointed, I cannot wrap my mind around how this was supposed to be a satisfying tying up emotional archs ending??? Bc it was so far away from satisfying I would laugh if I was not presently crying over it..

There are several things that irked me a lot. Many people have voiced the problems of this show and its ending much more eloquently than I will ever be able to do.. But I gotta get these fucking thoughts and feelings out of my system.

I have been with Spn since the first episode aired. I am a straight woman, I don’t have to fight for representation, I don’t have to worry about coming out and being accepted for who I am, I don’t have the daily struggles of feeling anxious or depressed or suicidal or not being able to be who I am. I am lucky that way!

To me love is love and all love should be equal! And I stand with all who struggle and all who are not free to be who they are. I see you and I love you and I support you fully!!!

To see my friends having to fight, and then on top of that have a show that has meant so much to so many people be butchered and have a negative last message sent out, in its last 36 minutes of its life … It is a hard pill to swallow.

Cas and Dean

In 15x18 we got to have a beautiful confession from Cas to Dean where Cas tells Dean he loves him and we know this is romantic love bc Cas begins by saying that the one thing I want I know I can’t have and then later I love you. Also Misha confirming it! This scene made me ugly cry so hard bc FINALLY.. (BUT what is missing from it.. the editing is strange.. bc Cas pushes Dean to the right but he falls to the left. Dean has no tears in his eyes while he looks straight at Cas when he talks, but he has tears in his eyes when he looks over his shoulder and see the empty. So what in this scene has been cut away and WHY?) Misha and Jensen did a great job with this and Cas got to find peace in just speaking his truth... And it was beautiful to watch and after having seen Dean sitting sobbing on the floor the natural and logical continuation of this would have been to in the next episode address this, but in episode 19 no such thing happened. And I wondered where did Dean’s grief go where did his CARE for Cas go?? Dean who has been depressed and suicidal when Cas have died before is all of sudden cold and act like nothing have happened at least nothing that affected him very deeply.. It felt disconnected and strange. And it continued on like that and it felt very strange to NOT address such a HUGH plot point. It’s not enough to have Dean say to Chuck to bring Cas back or to see him wasted out of his mind, or hugging a dog like his emotional wellbeing depends on it.. This is not resolution or addressing it.

All of season 15 has felt like the relationship between Cas and Dean has been in focus and important to the overall arch of the season, and explored and then all of a sudden all traces of it are just ripped away, erased completely.. To have a confession like this go unacknowledged to me is poor writing bc you do not leave this big of a thing hanging in the air without resolution (fine you can argue Cas got resolution but I feel that no Cas did not get resolution either bc his feelings SHOULD have gotten a response no matter what that response was.. Dean did not, we never got to hear or see his version or his thoughts about it.)

I was thinking narratively they HAVE to address this, Deans thoughts and reactions to this gotta be shown. They HAVE to resolve this, acknowledge it. I have been sure a long time they would NEVER have Dean reciprocate Cas love but keep it in subtext bc they are too fucking chickenshit to do that but at least have Dean talk about Cas….. that I expected him to do.. But it was not done in 19. I got the horrible feeling in my gut that they are not gonna resolve this they are gonna fuck this up, they are gonna go full brothers only and not give a fuck they are gonna push Cas out and show no care. Then we come to the final episode and boy howdy is there a lot to unpack with this episode.

(I had watched the long road home before the finale and when I watched that I KNEW that the end was going to be a letdown I felt it in all of me that I was gonna be disappointed. And I was proven right. And I have so many thoughts all jumbled up around each other that I don’t know in which end to start so sorry if what follows is incoherent and rambly.. )

15x20 - The end

20 felt like a FILLER episode, right up until Dean’s death scene I was bored and was seriously considering turning my computer of and just not watch. (A finale should be as engaging and emotionally packed like episode 18 was. I refuse to acknowledge 20 as the end.. To me it ended on 19. That wrapped things up. Not completely satisfying but hell of a lot better than the disaster that 20 is.) But then Dean was impaled on that rusty spike thingy and I was watching with attention. I GET why they did Deans death the way they did, even if that is one shitty death for Dean and could have been fixed so he did not die.. I get what they wanted to get out of it: a brothers sad moment that they turned into a irksome thing. I actually cringed about the head thing and the hands and the farming of it all just urgh I got sick to my stomach watching that. What should have been a beautifully sad moment was put together in a romantic coded way and that to me ruined the heartfelt goodbye. Bc you do not touch and hold a dying family member like that. I KNOW I have said goodbye to my fair share of loved ones that I have loved soo deeply, but the thought of touching like that NO no way.. And also they have NEVER done that forehead touch in previous deaths, so to do this now just felt irksome.

They killed Dean a character that has struggled his whole life with being daddy’s blunt little instrument, who has self-worth issues and are suicidal, who has never lived for his own sake but have only ever lived to protect and raise another, he continues to put others before himself though (up until the last couple of seasons where we have seen them both break away from this toxic behavior). Finally he was allowed to LIVE and have a life that was not controlled, not running in a hamster wheel like a fucking puppet on a string. He was Free of all of that. He was free to go after what HE wanted for himself and what Dean wanted was LOVE, in my mind its perfectly clear that Dean loves Cas back bc that is what the story have been telling us.. its right there and the story do not make sense without it. Many others have done a great job at talking about this and describe this way better than me. So I leave further discussion about that topic to them.

Dean was looking for a job. The angel Dean has loved since purgatory told him that he loved him and then died sacrificing himself to SAVE Dean yet again and then Dean dies a few days later.. How is this doing justice to Dean and what the hell kind of message does this send out to the ones watching?? They are saying it does not matter if you fight, your destiny is written for you and the only relief and comfort you will have will be death. They are saying Meh don’t fight it’s better to die bc it does not matter what you do. This is one of the fucked up messages this godawful ending sent to all those who have identified with Dean and Cas throughout the years.

They also say Cas who has been part of the story for 12 years is not important enough to have there, they IGNORED Cas, a mention in passing does not do justice to a character that has been crucial to the boys lives for 12 years. Dean Screamed in Sam’s face CAS IS FAMILY, Dean was destroyed when Cas died, he was hurt when Cas left bc everyone leaves Dean, Sam missed Cas etc… but still not important enough to show up in heaven in the last episode greeting first Dean and then Sam to heaven.. PFT…

To leave Cas and Misha out of the FINALE of a show that he has been part of for 12 years is so fucking disrespectful to Cas, to Misha and ALL the fans who love and adore both. It also makes no sense since they all say how beloved Cas and Misha are. and don’t go fucking covid made it impossible bc the last scene with all those people without masks.. No that is just lying liars who lie…Covid my ass! This angers me a lot.

Family do end in ONLY blood apparently…..

(And maybe lead to a lot of viewers for walker??? hence this very nice shirltess Sam scene............. ) shirtless Sam is always good though so no complaining here.

We see Sam and the dog give Dean a hunters funeral.. NO OTHERS are there? How is it possible that none of the found family wouldn’t want to be there and show up?? Jack has restored everyone but still only Sam and the dog are there, no Eileen, no Jody and the girls, Donna, Garth, and the list goes on and on. Bc they wanna hammer in harder that supernatural has ever only ever been about two brothers and no one else matters ever.. It does not matter that this has not been true since the earlier seasons. The show of course is about Sam and Dean’s lives and journey through life, and I have loved to follow along on their journey. BUT it was a long time ago this was the ONLY thing that mattered (bc if it had only been about the brothers the show would NOT have gone on for this long). Along the way they have picked up FOUND Family, and the message of the show has been Family don’t end in blood, Always Keep Fighting. But this last episode reverted back to season 1 and disregarded ALL character growth and storytelling of the past 12 years and went with fuck it ONLY Sam and Dean are important. So the next fucked up message they sent where: There is no Family don’t end in blood.. The only family that matters is blood. And then they have the balls to say Always Keep Fighting.. Are they fucking kidding????

Character development…….. who????

Sam lives on after Dean dies and we get a montage of his life where he look miserable and is shown to not being able to get over that Dean died. We get a blurry wife and a kid named Dean. In his house there are photos of ONLY himself, Dean and their parents and maybe one of his son? Don’t remember all the details and refuse to watch that episode ever again. But no friends, no family, no happy moments are shown, it looked like a very lonely life. He dies with only his son there.. WHERE are Sam’s friends??? This montage of Sam’s supposed happy life is NOT happy bc he is not able to get over that Dean is dead, he can’t live a happy life bc Dean is not there - again something that irked me and felt disrespectful to all the growth Sam and Dean have gone through. It was toxic codependency all the way through and that is not satisfying to watch. Especially since the brothers had actually broken that dependency. Sam had broken free, Sam have through the years wanted to get away from Dean and live his life as he wants and then he was happy…We have a moment way back in season 5 maybe? Where Sam runs away and this is shown as one of his happy moments in dark side of the moon.. No Dean in his happy places, Sam having thanksgiving with his girlfriend and her family, Sam alone with a dog. We have Sam and Amelia when Dean was in purgatory. So Sam IN text have been shown being able to be happy without Dean so why could he not do it this time?? Makes no sense! You can grieve but still have a good life.. But they CHOSE to show it like Sam was miserable bc Dean was dead and life was not worth living happily without Dean there..

The brothers have lately interacted like two individual adults, separated from each other, making their own decisions and trusting each other in making them, they wanted different things in life. And seriously WHERE DID EILEEN GO?? Why was Sam not reunited with Eileen that he some eps previous was shown to love, no instead they had blurry wife which feels like such a cop out. Sam did not get to live a happy fulfilling life and why did Sam not deserve to live a happy life with Eileen??? I know they are blaming corona for a lot of things missing in the finale that they intended.. BUT and this is a BIG BUT remember Jensen did not like the ending it did not sit well with him, he had a hard time digesting it, he objected to the ending! He spoke about that dying in battle would not be a satisfying ending - see the video of him talking about this at SDCC 2019. There is so much more to say about this but other people have voiced it so much better than I ever could so I move on to the next issue.

Dean in heaven

Dean when he first arrives there happens upon Bobby who tells him John and Mary lives down the road and that Rufus and Arheta lives around there too. I hope Bobby’s wife was indoors, and that Jack with the help of Cas fixed heaven. To this Dean only smirk/smiles.. and then Dean sees baby and goes for a drive ALONE with the words he will be here soon from Bobby again Sam is the only one that ever matter PFT. Dean who found a home in the bunker alongside Sam, Cas and Jack who told John: I have a family and that he was happy with himself and his life…. Spends his time endlessly driving around alone just waiting for Sam to appear.. ALL of Deans growth is thrown out the window.. he is reduced to salad dressing. Deans only purpose is to live for his brother and cannot possibly have what he WANTS for himself not even in death. He drives around for who knows how many years until Sam dies. HOW is this justice to DEAN? How is this a good and satisfying ending for Dean. Dean who wanted to LIVE, Dean who wanted to experience people in new ways, who had let go of Sam and saw Sam as his own person, now in heaven only drives around waiting for Sam to get there having no life or meaning of his own. It pisses me off to no end that they reverted back to toxic codependent Sam is all that is important to Dean shit.. They have broken away from this shit years ago and this is how they choose to end it right back at the beginning..

Now what is the point of telling a story of growth and love and life if all that that journey amounts to is ending up at the exact point it started on?? You can watch season 1 and 2 and then this finale and it makes sense.. But having watched season 1-15 this ending does great injustice to the characters and the story. Again many others have written way better posts about this that expresses the great disappointment and hurt that is being screamed everywhere right now.

The Actors

I want to add the performance of all actors through the years, the love and care they have poured into their characters are amazing I have loved every bit of that journey. I love Jared, Jensen and Misha, and all the others for their amazing work and that is maybe why it hurts so much it ended in this way!

#spn 15x20 #Supernatural #Jensen Ackles #Misha Collins #Jared Padalecki #dean winchester #dean #sam winchester #sam #castiel #cas #spn 15x18 #spn 15x19 #rambly thoughts about the end #the end

134 notes · View notes

handonhaven · 3 years ago

Note

Aye baby❤.. So like I know majority of u"all saw yesterday's episode and on-behalf of the entire handon nation and people who really loves and stans hope including me I can absolutely say we are all pissed off literally 🤦‍♀️. The super squad is filled with a bunch of hypocrites and some fake-ass people and I can't stand them (am not sorry) .. The one time hope actually chooses landon and her own happiness she's considered selfish🙄 and the fact that they are saying hope always chooses landon over them when where and how????? Hope always has been saving there asses since season 1 and putting her happiness aside and they have the audacity To call hope selfish the one time she chooses herself?🙄 .. And the fact that Kaleb and alaric lied to hope kmt i can't wait till hope finds out honestly, and the fact they put more effort into saving cleo than Landon all mg what happen to "never leave a man behind" but that rule clearly doesn't apply when it comes to landon don't it🙄 they don't care about landon, landon even saved alaric without even thinking about it too , hope is the only one that cares for landon and I hate that she always has to apologize for that,that's not friendship🙄🥱. Anyways We got to see landon omg I love and miss him soo much and the fact that he's willing to sacrifice staying in the darkness alone so that hope doesn't have to become a tribrid😭❤ I wanted hope to be the one to find landon honestly i cant wait for there reunion even if they gonna break up to have growth and development b4 getting back together 😭 can't wait for there storyline this season.. Love the hizze scene now we know why Lizzie is such a bitch when it comes to hope and landon relationship and the part where hope said " you voting against me hurts me too" that scene hurts even if its apart of the plan but love the ending for hizze, love josie and finch bond cant wait to see more❤ am here for a cleo and landon friendship next episode, And I can't wait till hope leaves that school none of them deserve her expect landon🙄❤.

Yep! I think everyone who is a real Hope and Landon stan was pissed off by that episode because that was infuriating. Literally, the super squad is terrible, can’t stand them either. And exactly! Them saying Hope always chooses Landon over them is a total lie. She has always prioritized everyone else, she prioritizes Landon over them one time, when he’s been in horrible danger and deserves to be saved, and they’re still holding it against her? I can’t. One of Hope’s main struggles, in season 2 especially, was her feeling like she couldn’t choose Landon, and sacrificing her happiness with him, for the sake of everyone else. Then when she finally chooses him and her own happiness, they shame her for it. It’s unbelievable. And then on top of all of that, they lie to her again? I can’t wait till she finds out either, my only worry is that the writers won’t let her react to it in the way we know she would. And yep, they put more effort into saving Cleo in just one day than they ever have to save Landon. And that line MG said was crap because fr that does not apply to Landon, how many times is the super squad gonna lie? They have shown that they don’t care about Landon, despite all he’s done for them. It’s sick that the only one who cares about him and loves him gets criticized for it. For sure, Hope doesn’t have one good or real friendship at that school.

But I did love seeing Landon, I honestly was not expecting it and I was so happy to see him! 😭 And anyone who says a word against him can go, because he’s seriously the most selfless character. And I wanted Hope to be the one to find him too! I’ve wanted to see her reaching him inside his mind for months and we get Kaleb and Alaric finding him instead, what is this show? That pissed me off. But I can’t wait for a Handon reunion either, which we better get and it better be amazing, especially if they’re gonna be apart again. 😑

Yeah at least what Lizzie said explains some of her behavior. Although it still doesn’t explain why she’s treated Landon like crap since the beginning whether he’s been with Hope or not... I’m also glad Hope mentioned Lizzie voting against her. Even though it was for the plan, I’d think Hope meant that after 3x08 (and maybe Lizzie did vote against her again? Since didn’t Hope say Alaric broke the tie with the vote, so it makes me wonder who voted against Hope). And I think I’m the only one who doesn’t care to see a Landon and Cleo friendship, mostly because I don’t think it would be in character for Landon to trust and be friends with someone who manipulated and tried to murder Hope, but that’s just me. And I agree, I can’t wait till Hope leaves the school, I just wish that Landon was going with her, that’s something I’ve always wanted to see. I want him away from that school just as much, so I hope wherever she goes, he won’t still be at the school. I hope he’ll be with Raf or something. And so true, no one at that school deserves Hope or Landon.

#answered #4x01 #spoilers #legacies spoilers #anti super squad

12 notes · View notes

veliseraptor · 4 years ago

Text

Down in the Yi City Pit: A Recs Post

So as anyone following me may have noticed, I’ve been spiraling ever deeper into a pit called Yi City Feelings. I’m down at the bottom and I’m still digging. This also means I’ve been doing a lot of fic reading, and I figure it’s about time that I wrote a recs list, since I said I’d do it and some people expressed interest.

Heads up that I am a dirty Xue Yang stan first and foremost, so this list is going to skew in, uh, that direction. Just so we’re all aware.

Divided these into canonverse recs and modern au recs, since apparently this is the only thing I’ll read modern aus for! It’s a brave new world out here.

Also like. blanket warnings across the board here for The Inherent Dubiousness of Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen as a Pairing, Generally. I’ll offer more specific/major ones as they’re relevant/I remember, but please check the tags/authors notes as well.

CANONVERSE

lover to your nightmare by Zaatar (@ameliarating) . Xue Yang uses Xiao Xingchen getting sick as an opportunity to fuck around a little. Second person POV sickfic, except XueXiao flavored sickfic which means it’s messy and full of good things like “delirium” and “people taking advantage of other peoples’ confusion and disorientation to mess with them psychologically.” This fic also does the thing I love really well where Xue Yang’s internal monologue/self-justification is full of indications that he’s having Feelings that he neither recognizes nor acknowledges. Crunchy, delicious.

Samsara / 輪迴 by ForgivenMemes. Upsetting fic full of every content warning ever alert! (Off the top of my head: violence, rape, suicide, self-harm.) I keep going back to this fic and rereading it because it hurts so bad and I love it, because it hurts in the best worst self-sabotage recapitulating-mistakes-over-and-over way. Like, I am a sucker for a time loop fic always, and usually I read them as a route to fixing things - but honestly I’ve always loved the part of time loop fics that’s “everything getting worse first.” And this is a whole fic of “everything getting worse.” Aka, the one where Xue Yang has thousands of chances to get it right, but there’s no getting it right.

compromise by Sectionladvivi. Xiao Xingchen convinces Song Lan and Xue Yang to kiss. (aka, obviously Yi City AU where Song Lan gets folded into things, Xiao Xingchen still doesn’t know about Xue Yang being Xue Yang, and an uneasy detente where the two of them don’t touch each other gets interrupted by Xiao Xingchen Wanting Things, which is, of course, a priority always).

til dawn by Sectionladvivi. Xue Yang takes care of Xiao Xingchen’s body after his death, and mind the tags. This is that perfect Yi City level of “horrifying and also very sad, I feel bad for my boy but also he is sort of defiling a corpse (though it is just kissing).” This might not sound like a recommendation but it is absolutely a recommendation.

Our Antebellum Innocence by spockandawe (@spockandawe). First time XueXiao. Xue Yang lays the groundwork for his first time with Xiao Xingchen with meticulous care. This author always delivers, both in terms of excellent porn and in terms of characterization, and this is no exception.

life’s illusions I recall by Sour_Idealist (@souridealist). The basics of this fic is just “outdoor sex at a river” and it is delicious for that, but what I love about it in particular is this author’s Xue Yang voice. It’s always good (they are the genius behind the incredible Jiang Yanli/Xue Yang fic - no, really), and this is a fic I come back to a lot for that reason. I also love the tag “two characters experiencing two very different fics” which feels like a very apt description for the XueXiao dynamic, generally speaking.

Selenographia by lightningwaltz. A lovely, short-ish fic about the Yi City years. I don’t feel like I have a good description for this one - it’s just one of those beautiful character/moment portrait pieces, very well done.

Stories from A Lonely City by blackwatervial. A series of snapshots/vignettes from the three years in Yi City. Sweetness, bittersweetness, and of course, ultimately, a sad end. This was one of the first Yi City fics I read.

yi city depression hours by glueskin (series). Just. You know. Some feelings. There’s two fics in this one, both short character study type fics making me feel feelings.

a bird caught in this winter blizzard by cherriru. I do love a good grief/mourning fic, especially featuring someone realizing slowly the sheer miserable depths of their fuck-up. Aka, Xue Yang after Xiao Xingchen’s death. It’s just sad.

all I ever knew of love by Sour_Idealist (@souridealist). See what I said above about the Xue Yang voice and this author; this one also featuring blistering hot porn (first time), a little light praise kink, and huddling for warmth as an excuse for sex. It’s a perfect blend of filth and tenderness and I love it.

revelations wallet wood burn art by Sectionladvivi. This one describes itself in the summary as “grim pwp” and yeah, that fits (and also! is such a XueXiao vibe, whoop whoop); it’s based off the simple premise of ‘Xue Yang tells Xiao Xingchen who he is, in the middle of sex.’ Honestly, one of my favorite things about this fic is the ending, which is horrifying in the best possible way.

Your Heart Inside My Hands by williamshooketh (@ectoplasm-james). This fic is fabulously made for me in the specific subgenre of “Xue Yang thinks he knows what he is getting into when having sex with Xiao Xingchen and, it turns out, does not.” This one featuring some of my favorite things including praise kink and Xue Yang getting extremely fucked up by someone being very nice to him.

Sleep Until the Sun Goes Down by spockandawe (@spockandawe). Love me some Xiao Xingchen seducing Xue Yang with candy. First time fic, second person POV, absolutely delightful.

pass the time by short_tandem_repeats (@yiling). A-Qing and Xue Yang bonding hours. I am actually such a sucker for their weird relationship (I don’t poke at it enough in my own stuff, should work on that) and the way they recognize each other in ways that Xiao Xingchen doesn’t, and also a-Qing having to reckon with the ways in which she’s more like Xue Yang than like Xiao Xingchen. Just a very good fic with a delightful a-Qing.

Three Springs by Verbana. Just a really excellent Xiao Xingchen POV of the three years in Yi City and a developing relationship between Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang. Beautifully written, a lovely escalation, and I’m absolutely delighted by the gentle loneliness of the Xiao Xingchen POV here.

Red Azalea by CeNedraRiva (@cenedrariva) (WIP). A longfic in progress following the continuing adventures of the Yi City Crew after Xiao Xingchen survives his suicide attempt and Xue Yang reconsiders some life choices. Recently got tag-updated to SongXueXiao which has me absolutely thrilled. Updates every Wednesday.

ephemeral by im_krying (WIP). Xue Yang, traveling around wearing Xiao Xingchen’s face, decides it is time to go looking for the last remaining part of Xiao Xingchen that he doesn’t already possess. That is to say, the eyes in Song Lan’s head. I’m really curious where this is going - it smells up my alley at this point though it’s been a bit since the last update.

Heaven Has a Road But No One Walks It by Silvestris (@silvysartfulness) (WIP). Things I love: beating on Xue Yang, SongXueXiao, terrible road trips, fix-its where there’s a lot of suffering involved. Things this fic has: all of the above. I’m in love.

MODERN AU

(There are other recs to this one but for various reasons (pwp reasons) triggered my self-consciousness slightly too much to put on this post. Go check my bookmarks, you’ll find stuff there.

Most of these are PWP to greater or lesser extents (Rewritten and Misalignment are, I’d say, the exceptions); all very hot and fantastically written.)

circling like vultures by brawlite (@brawlite) (series). Truly quality porn, featuring mostly Xue Yang/Song Lan both pining for Xiao Xingchen, which is a thing that it turns out I really like. The sex is rough and mean and I’m really into it. (Okay, mostly the sex in the first one is mean, the second one is actually XueYao, and the third one is actually verging on nice. Wow! Growth. Anyway, it’s all very good and very My Scene.

Rewritten by incendir (series). This series is like. Everything I want from a modern AU and that was true even before the most recent fic gifted me a beat up Xue Yang suffering, so you know. I don’t have a good summary for this series other than that it’s basically a married Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen adopting Xue Yang as a third partner and it’s just. So well done, such good writing, such good characterization, I would read 20,000 more words of this and probably still be hungry.

catalyst by Ajaxthegreat. If there is a porny fic I’ve reread more than this one, I’m not sure what it would be. I’ve reread this one a lot. It’s very good. It’s very hot. I’m trying not to be self-conscious. SongXueXiao first time rough sex and boy is it tasty.

biting the bullet by Sectionladvivi. Xiao Xingchen doesn’t want to have to choose between his two boyfriends and so he doesn’t. Sectionladvivi in general writes some very sexy modern au PWP (including a few different Xue Yang/Lan Wangji fics which...didn’t see that one coming! But it works when they do it), so general rec for author but this one (as, you know, SongXueXiao porn), is one of my favorites, probably.

sxx configurations by rynleaf (series). This is a SongXueXiao series on AO3 based off of @kevinkevinson‘s modern reincarnation AU and I am in love with both the art for that AU (go look!) and these fics, they’re so good, I’ve reread several times.

Misalignment by Kasasagi (WIP). The one with a reincarnated Xue Yang and a Xiao Xingchen who arrives in the modern world from the past, fresh off his suicide.

And Once Again, if I’m Allowed to Rec My Own Fic

a kindness you can’t afford. Early days in Yi City after Xue Yang wakes up.

lick your exit wounds. I wanted canonverse-era bottom Xue Yang praise kink, so I wrote it for myself in the hopes others would also find this an interesting prospect.

this place could be beautiful. Xue Yang vs. domestic living.

tear out all your tenderness. Xue Yang gets turned on by murder and makes it a project to get Xiao Xingchen to lose control.

the beauty of your repair. PWP, modern AU SongXueXiao; there’s not an inkling of plot here, it’s really just an excuse to get Xue Yang wrecked, but nicely.

#finally posting this!!!#yi city crew #fic rec #song lan #xue yang #xiao xingchen #i'm sure i'm missing things but there's only so much i can do #xuexiao #songxue #songxuexiao

220 notes · View notes

nastybuckybarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Pairing: Cowboy!Bucky X Reader

Summary: During a summer away from school, you head back home to the small town you grew up in. You quickly resume your job on the Farm where you spent most of your teen years, reconnecting with people you thought you might never see again.

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 3.7K

A/n: I like this idea. I like this title. I just like it. I hope y’all do too.

~*~

Student loans most certainly don't pay themselves.

That's something people tell you but doesn't fully hit until you see the big bills in the mail. Instead of dwelling, you climb into your rusty old car and set out down the highway, heading back to the town where you grew up.

Your parents have been bugging you about coming to visit, and the town always has job openings somewhere, easily the best place to go to rake in some extra cash during your summer break.

And that's how you find yourself here, standing outside the big white farmhouse that's something straight out of a magazine.

Your dad dropped you off at the start of the long circular driveway, leaving you to walk to the front of the house in your old farm boots.

As you approach the house, you feel yourself getting nervous as you see the figure sitting on the yellow porch swing.

"My Goodness! (Y/n) (Y/l/n)! Is that you?!" You smile at the familiar voice, hurrying towards her as she gets off the swing and clomps down the stairs towards you.

"You've grown so much! We've missed you 'round these parts!" She exclaims, throwing her arms around you as soon as you're in range.

"Hi, Winnie! I've missed you too." She keeps an arm around your shoulders and walks you up the step and through the blue front door of the huge house. You toe off your boots and she does the same, not bothering to put them away properly in her haste to get you comfortable.

"I'll get you something to drink. We've got so much to catch up on. And the boys! Oh! They'll be dyin' to see ya. James 'specially. He just ain’t been the same since you left for the big city. But look at you now, a grown woman, a big city girl." You grin, eyes flittering around the house.

It's changed over the years, but it hasn't lost its homey feel. The walls of the entryway are the same yellow-orange as they always were, the floors, the same deep oak.

You take a left, through the dining room and past George's office, through the kitchen and finally into the sitting room.

You take your time, admiring all the renovations they've done in the years since you've last been in here.

All the cupboards and counters are a bright pristine white, but the beams across the ceiling give it a rustic feel. The appliances are all stainless steel, and the hardwoods have been darkened since the last time you saw them.

Winnifred pulls you to sit down on the soft beige couch across from the windows, smiling brightly at you.

"I'll grab you a drink. Wanda squeezed some orange juice fresh this mornin' so we're in for a treat." She pours you a glass and you smile as she hands it to you, her hospitality warming your heart.

"How's the big city treated ya?" She asks, plopping down on the couch next to you. You take a sip of orange juice then sigh.

"It's... different than out here, that's for sure. The people mind their business and they don't stick out for each other the way we do. But I think that that's helped me really grow and become independent." She nods, smiling at you.

"Look at you. Always know you'd be somethin' great. And here you are, on the road to being a doctor. Hope you don't forget us while you're out there savin' lives." You shake your head.

"I could never forget you guys. This place is my home. You guys... you're my family." She nods, "you're darn right."

"That's uh... one of the reasons why I cam here, actually. Ma was tellin' me that you guys are looking for some extra help over the summer. I may not be as good as I was before, but I still remember how to take care of the animals and run the place."

"Oh Darlin', you'll always have a job here, whenever you want. You can help with paperwork or you can help the boys with the animals if you want." You nod, mulling over your options.

"Or if you're really up for it, you can help with both." You nod, liking that idea more than just picking one.

"And you'll stay here during the week. It's gonna be early mornings and late nights, just like before. But weekends you can go home to your family." You nod again, taking another sip of your juice.

"You'll be staying in the guest house with James. I hope you don't mind. There are two bedrooms so you won't have to bunk together. He got it done all nice and pretty, I think you'll really like it. And if you don't, I'll see if Wanda'll stay with him for the summer." You wave her off.

"I'm sure James and I will be fine to live under one roof for the summer." She nods with a grin, happy that you're back home where, in her opinion, you belong.

"The boys should be finished in the field soon. I'm sure they're hungry. Wanna help me whip up some lunch? It's been a while since we've had those grilled sandwiches you make. I'm sure the boys'll love 'em as a surprise." You nod, getting up off the couch and walking into the kitchen, falling into the familiar task of making lunch for the farm boys.

You and Winifred talk about the growth of the farm and about the new girl, Wanda. "Her family's from Europe. She moved out here for school but got a job working on the farm. Decided to take a break from school and work with us for a couple years before going back to school. Isn't that so lovely? Everyone who gets a taste of this ol' farm just can't stay away. You're no exception, are ya?"

You shake your head, a grin on your lips as you plate the sandwiches.

Boots trudge against the stone by the door and your heart races in your chest. The door swings open and the conversation the two men are having comes to a halt when they see not one, but two pairs of women's boots at the door.

"Ma?" a familiar voice calls out. You hear them taking off their own shoes and then they're coming through the dining room and into the kitchen.

You're not sure what you were expecting, but this certainly isn't it.

The two scrawny boys you used to play on the tire swing with have grown into huge men. Steve, the boy that used to be so sick all the time, with nothing but skin on his bones, is easily six feet tall and over two hundred pounds of pure muscle. His head nearly hits the top of the doorway when he walks into the kitchen, eyes as blue as ever. And the accentuate his muscles, he's wearing a skintight blue shirt that shows off every single curve and crevice in his body.

His mouth opens in shock when he sees you before a grin spreads over his pink lips. He rushes to you and engulfs you in a tight and sweaty bear hug, squeezing you tight in his arms.

You giggle uncontrollably as he spins you around.

"God, it's been too long! What're you doing 'round these parts?" He sets you down on your feet, hands on your shoulders as he drinks in your figure.

Winifred answers before you have a chance to, and you take the moment to look around Steve's arm to where you know James is standing.

Standing in place of the lanky boy who stole your first kiss is a grown man. His hair's trimmed and slicked back, and he's got a short scruffy beard growing. He's almost as tall as Steve is, still several inches taller than you, and even thicker, biceps straining against the tight fabric of his flannel shirt. His thighs are sinfully thick in his dirty jeans, and there's a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

You can't help but devour his figure with your eyes, greedy to drink up every detail of him.

He does the same to you, pink bottom lip tucked between his white teeth as his eyes rake over your figure.

From the tight white tank top that hugs your chest, to those damn jeans that hug your legs so perfectly, to the mismatched socks on your feet. He's missed you, that much he'll admit.

"...I just hope that the two of you get along like you used to." The two of you tune back in, turning to his mother as she continues speaking, oblivious to the moment you just shared.

"Wait what?" He asks, voice deep. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, and it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"You and (Y/n). I figured that you've got plenty of room for her to bunk with you. And with Wanda stayin' with us, there ain't a lotta room for her to stay." You glance over at the man in question and he swallows hard before nodding.

"Yeah. Of course." Winifred claps her hands together happily.

"Perfect. Now, you boys must be hungry. Eat up!" Steve grabs his plate of sandwiches and sits down on the couch, sighing and relaxing with ease. Bucky, on the other hand, doesn't move as quickly. He waits until his mother leaves to turn something on the tv before moving, and when he does he only moves towards you.

You lean back instinctively, inhaling sharply when you find yourself pinned against the countertop behind you.

He looks you up and down again, nodding to himself. He's so close that you can feel the familiar warmth of him through the few inches separating the two of you. He leans closer for a moment, lips just hovering over yours, and your eyelids fall closed. Until he pulls back.

A soft whine falls from your lips and he chuckles quietly, grabbing his plate of food and plopping down next to Steve on the couch. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself before heading into the living room and sitting by Winnie.

"I suppose you'll need to go home and pick up some of your things, won't ya?" You nod, taking another sip of your orange juice. "I'll have my folks bring it over later on. If that's alright with you." She nods, grinning happily.

"You know what? I say we have a barbecue tonight. Invite your folks over, some old friends. Celebrate you comin' home for the summer." She's up and hurrying away before you can even say no.

It's silent for a painfully long moment before Steve clears his throat and speaks.

"So how's school been?" You almost roll your eyes. Same old awkward Steve.

"It's been good. I uh... finished my second year of med school. I've just got two years of clinical experience to go then I start my residency." He nods, leaning forward in interest.

"And you've chosen your specialty?" You nod, smiling as you talk about your passion.

"I'm going into Obstetrics and Gynaecology. So for my clinical I'll be pretty much just shadowing some doctors, delivering babies, helping and observing in the OR. Then it's a minimum of five years in residency before I can start my own practice." He nods thoughtfully, smiling suddenly.

"So in two years we'll be callin' ya 'Doctor (Y/l/n)'?" You nod, that fact scaring you more than it probably should.

"Yup." He shakes his head in disbelief. "You know, I have a hard time believing that the same girl who went to rodeo's with me and this punk when we were skinny little nobodies... can't believe she's a grown woman now, on her way to becoming a doctor. I've gotta say, (Y/n), I'm so proud of you. You've got no idea." Your eyes prickle and you blink furiously.

"Thank you, Steve. It feels so... surreal. Coming back here after all these years... it feels like nothing's really changed." He smiles, nodding.

"Yeah. Nothing's changed at all," Bucky mumbles, eyes on you. You look down at your lap, unsure what he means by that.

~*~

The first week of helping on the farm is exactly how you remembered it. Early mornings, heavy lifting, and the stench of animal crap that seems to stick to your hair even after you shower. But it feels like home. And spending time with your closest friends is worth it all.

You're walking through the tiny town's farmer's market, a list of groceries in your right hand, written by Winifred herself.

Just as you're paying for the last vegetables that you need, the sound of horse hooves on the gravel road makes you and everyone around you turn to the sound.

Sitting atop his prized mare is Bucky, a dark cowboy hat on his head and some fancy looking cowboy boots on his feet. He slows to a stop in front of you, grinning as you step closer.

"Well howdy," you tease. He chuckles and looks down for a moment.

"Ma wanted me to come pick you up. Says a storm's brewin'. She didn't want you walking home in it. Brought my pack so you can stash the groceries and we can ride back home." You purse your lips then nod, handing him the groceries so he can put them away.

"Now c'mon up. You remember how to ride?" The glimmer in his eyes makes you grin.

"As a matter of fact, James, I remember vividly how to ride." He chuckles softly and offers you his hand. You grab it with one hand and pull while bouncing to give yourself momentum. You grab onto his bicep with your other arm and swing your leg over the horse, pulling yourself up the rest of the way with ease.

"Huh, all that time in the big city hasn't made you forget," he mutters, glancing over his shoulder at you while his mare starts a comfortable walk back to the house.

"I uh... I haven't had a chance to tell you, but your place looks great," you say awkwardly, hands twitching to reach for him.

He hums, his right hand reaching back and grabbing onto yours, pulling it around his waist. "You'd better hold on tight. Don't want you to fall." You bring your other hand around his waist and lean your head against his back.

The ride back home is quiet and peaceful, and gives you far too much to think about.

When you're finally back on the property, Bucky hops off of his mare then reaches up and grabs your waist instinctively. And you let him.

He helps you down and the two of you stand like that for a long moment, chests touching and eyes locked together, the tension palpable between the two of you.

Thunder booms in the distance and it snaps the two of you out of your moment. Bucky ducks his head and leads his mare to the stables and you make your way into the house that the two of you are sharing.

When Bucky finally comes inside, his hat damp with rain, you've got two mugs of tea waiting. You hand one to him then make your way into the sunroom to relax as the rain falls gently outside.

You're sipping your tea, watching the rain, when Bucky comes out and sits next to you on the worn old couch.

"I've missed you, (Y/n). I really have. It just.... it ain't the same without you here." You look over at him and smile sadly.

"I've missed you too, Buck. So much." He throws his arm over the back of the couch, eyes on you as he sets his mug down on the coffee table.

"When you left... I thought you'd come back and be too prissy for me. Thought you'd realize what you're worth and you wouldn't wanna speak to me again, that's assumin' you'd come back at all. And I know it's shallow of me, but I didn't know what to expect. But let me tell you that I'm so damn happy that you haven't changed. You've filled out a bit more, and you seem more confident, but you're still my (Y/n) in there."

You look over at him, see the vulnerability in his beautiful blue eyes, and find yourself falling head over heels all over again.

"Bucky, I'd never think myself 'too good' for you. Or for anyone here. You guys are my family... my friends.... and..." you trail off , eyes darting down to his lips for a long moment before finding his eyes again.

His arm slides from the couch to your shoulders, fingers squeezing your shoulder gently. You lean forward, setting your mug on the table beside his then nuzzle back against him, sighing softly.

"I'm glad you're home," he whispers, eyes finding your lips. You nod, instinctively shifting closer to him.

You lick your lips and his eyes dart down to the movement. He looks back up to your eyes, asking for permission. You grant it, leaning forward slightly. He meets you halfway, lips warm and slightly chapped.

You melt into it, moaning softly against his mouth. He takes advantage of your parted lips and gently lets his tongue explore, re-familiarizing himself with every inch of you.

His hands grip your waist and yanks you over to him, helping you situate yourself so that you're straddling his thighs. You cup his cheeks and kiss him harder, inhaling sharply when he grabs your ass.

"Let's get you outta these jeans, yeah?" He asks, his voice gravelly and deep with lust. You stand up, legs trembling slightly, and quickly rid yourself of your jeans. He does the same, kicking off his jeans and unbuttoning his flannel. You pull your t-shirt above your head, leaving you completely bare in front of him, except for your panties.

He has his hand down his boxers, stroking his hard length while his hooded eyes stay trained on you.

You drop to your knees between his legs and smile innocently up at him.

"Can I suck your cock, Bucky?" He moans at the way you say it, nodding his head furiously. You're quick to help him out of his boxers, your jaw dropping as his cock rests freely against his abdomen.

He's so much bigger than you remember. You take him in your dominant hand, stroking him slowly. He throws his head back, taking deep breaths as you continue to slowly torture him.

Deciding to put him out of his misery, you lean forward and lick him from base to tip, then take him down your throat.

He lurches forward, hand grabbing onto your hair as you start bobbing your head up and down.

"Jesus fuck!" He watches you through hooded eyes as you give him what may be the best blowjob of his life.

"Fuck, stop." He pulls you off of his cock and takes a few shuddering breaths.

"As fucking fantastic as that feels, I wanna cum inside of you." You rub your thighs together as heat pools at your centre at his words.

He pulls you up onto his lap again and pulls at the flimsy lace of your panties, tearing them clean off of your body. He tosses them aside then pulls you closer to his chest, rutting his hips upwards to grind his cock against your folds. You moan and drop your head to his shoulder, the feeling of his hot length against your wet heat only adding to the intense pleasure coursing through your veins.

"You gonna let me fuck you hard? Huh? You gonna let me show you just how much I missed you?" You nod breathlessly, grinding your hips against his and moaning every time he bumps your clit.

He lifts you up slightly, just enough to snake his hand between your naked bodies, then lines his aching cock with your cunt.

He doesn't make any further move, allowing you to take the reins at your own pace, and for that you're more than grateful.

It takes a while, lowering on him slowly, before you can settle comfortably on his lap, and even then the two of you are straining.

"Fuck," he rasps, fingers digging into your waist, no doubt leaving bruises for tomorrow.

You give your hips an experimental rock and moan as he rubs right against your g-spot.

"God, you're tight," he murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. You glance down to where the two of you are connected then back up to his blissed-out face and make a decision in your head.

With determination and a loud moan, you lift your hips then drop them back down. He lets out a guttural groan and you repeat the action, gradually speeding up until you're bouncing in his lap, his cock hitting every single good place inside of you.

"I-I'm gonna cum," he whispers, moaning softly when you clench around him. You can feel yourself approaching the edge too, and when he brings his hand between your legs to rub your swollen clit, you see stars.

A long drawn out moan leaves your lips as your release slams into you like a brick wall. You collapse against his chest, eyes rolling back into your head as he grips your hips and fucks up into you, drawing out your orgasm while finally reaching his own.

His hips stutter a few more times before he stills, arms wrapping around you and holding you tightly to his chest while the two of you stay locked together, his cock softening inside of you.

You push yourself up against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He hums happily and hugs you tighter. Two fingers flick the tip of his hat and he chuckles, cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

"Well, you know what they say," you whisper, grabbing his hat and plopping it onto your own head. He shakes his head with a laugh. "No, what do they say?"

You grin and bring your mouth down so that it's just hovering over his.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy."

#bucky x reader #cowboy!bucky x reader #cowboy au #cowboy!au #cowboy!Bucky Barnes x reader #cowboy bucky x reader #cowboy Steve x reader #Steve x reader #bucky x reader cowboy au

359 notes · View notes

spaciousignatius · 4 years ago

Note

What are the fanfics you keep going back to again and again when looking for something comforting and familiar to read?

Hello anon, thanks for the ask! I'm gonna assume we're talking about NaruHina fanfiction cause that's all I ever read and it's pretty much all I've ever written and posted here. I've been sick this last week, so I've actually been reading a lot of comfort fics 😁 great timing. There are three that come to mind specifically when I think familiar and comforting:

the delicacy of growth by utsu. I dont know what they might go by on tumblr so I wont try to tag them, but this story is awesome. Oneshot blank period fic featuring one-armed naruto, teacher hinata and all kinds of crazy good writing. I seriously can't put into words how well this stories writing sells itself, the symbolism is unbelievable. Its easy, its comforting. Its awesome.

Nightdreams by @dayseternal-blog. There's nothing this fic doesnt have. Multi-chapter friends with benefits au with pain, comfort, sorrow, pining, jealousy, sneaking around, you name it it's here. It also gets raunchy as hell and it was my first exposure to smut fics and I think that's why I love it so much. (There's this confrontation part in the middle where it's obvious to everybody but Naruto how he feels, but since its Naruto his space brain is cranked up to 11 and there's no reasoning with him, and ugh I think about that bit every single day and its the greatest piece of writing ever written.)

Team 8 by S'TarKan. Not really NaruHina centered, but if I didn't talk about this fic i'd be a dirty liar. I re-read this fic all the time, it is literally the fanfiction that got me into naruto fanfiction. I almost dont want to recommend it, cause its not finished and probably never will be (the author has a whole lot of health issues and hasnt been able to update in 6 years), but it's a good read. AU where Naruto was placed under Kurenai with Hinata and Shino. My favorite part of this story is the differences in the Hyuuga clan (they're so much worse than in canon) and the backstory given to an otherwise underrepresented genjutsu specialist.

I hope you find something new to read, anon! Thanks for the ask, a new ask always makes my day!

#ask me stuff this is fun

14 notes · View notes

ilovehallas · 4 years ago

Text

Can it not just wait til morning

Relationships: Anders & Justice, Anders & Varric Tethras

Summary:

Anders wanders the streets of Lowtown at night to try and recover from a disturbing nightmare, but the implications of what he dreamed won't let him go and Justice only makes matters worse. When things reach a fever pitch, Anders rushes to the Hanged Man in need for friendship and reprieve.

Tags: Night Terrors, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Dragon Age II - Act 3, Friendship saves the day

Warning for graphic violence

[One of my favorite relationships in Dragon Age 2 is the friendship between Anders and Varric and the change in tone in their banter between Act 2 and Act 3 always gets to me. So I wrote a self-indulgent piece about it that completely went out of hand! There's a lot of other stuff I still wanted to get in there, but I did actually try to keep it brief. This oneshot takes place a short time after the Legacy DLC, between Acts 2 and 3. Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!]

Read on AO3

Acrid fumes hung heavy in the air of the tunnels. The stench almost had its own physical presence in the way it crept into his air ways and made it hard to draw breath. It had made them all quiet as they tried to avoid stepping on the strange fleshy growths covering parts of the ground and the walls; if Anders looked too long he could swear they were pulsing slightly, feeling every pulse like the beat of his own heart.

Something lived here that Anders didn’t want to see. He tried to keep his eyes fixed to the back of the Warden-Commander, on the familiar griffon heraldry emblazoning her shield. Nothing in the way she moved betrayed whether she could sense it too. Her hand rested easy on the hilt of her sword.

The winding tunnels got progressively more difficult to traverse, forcing them to walk on the growths as the ground became uneven. They would give ever so slightly under Anders’ weight with a sickening, squelching sound. Everything was damp and warm, and Anders hoped that it was sweat that ran along his brow as his breathing grew more and more shallow.

Soon they were in place that Anders recognized well. They were in one of the many tunnels sleeping deep beneath Vigil’s keep, walking past long abandoned dark spawn barricades. How long had it been since they had walked these halls together? Sigrun smiled at him with understanding when she glanced over. When they reached a fork in the road, Anders found a weight finally lifted off his chest. Two massive holes were gaping in the stone, the one on the right side leading down another cramped path, and the other opening up to the inside of a large structure illuminated by an odd blue glow. The walls there were of solid stone adorned with careful geometric designs of lyrium, reaching up so impossibly high that Anders couldn’t even make out a ceiling when he entered. From far away, the soft echo of running water called out to him.

A flicker of hope lit him up like a spark in dry kindling. This was it! The place they had been looking for! The exhaustion of their grueling eternal march fell off him like opened shackles as he turned and ran back to the others, cursing the way his robes would slow him down. When the canal spat him out, he was back in the deep roads. This time there was not an inch that was not covered in organic matter. The walls were infested with empty egg sacks sprouting from the flesh and Anders’ blood rushed in his ears, whispering to him in clicking and chittering sounds that whatever had nested there was watching him. His body and chest seized up around nothing in anticipation of a threat he couldn’t see, his limbs stiff and useless as the paralyzing poison of panic set in. But no, he could see it. When he looked down, through the grate of the drain under his feet, the thick tentacle of a broodmother emerged from the dark in greeting. When he lifted his head, he looked right into the bulging humanoid face of one of her Children, perched on its grotesque legs.

“We need you, Grey Warden” it spoke with a calm voice. Its claw-like appendages poised, it jumped at him baring its needle teeth and buried them deep into his neck. He didn’t even get to scream, his blood pooling in his mouth as his skin tore. He could feel the way the creature sucked the rest of it right out of his veins. His legs gave in, crushed by the weight of the childer now feasting on him.

“Why can’t I help you?” Justice wailed mournfully from Kristoff’s body, half swallowed by the wall. “I’m stuck here. Anders, what can I do? This isn’t right!”

“I don’t know!“ Anders forced out, his hands pushing fruitlessly at the darkspawn burrowing itself in his body. The fade was silent and sliding away further and further the deeper the teeth went. “Get off of me!”

“I apologize for what I must do to you” the childer said. “But the Father says we need your blood.”

His arms were getting weaker, he still tried to dig his fingers into the creature’s eyes.

“It’ll make us free. Wouldn’t that be just?”

Anders sought Justice’s eye, his own despair reflected back at him. Justice opened his mouth as he struggled, his words coming out as a death rattle. “Why can’t I change this? Why aren’t you letting me?”

“But it’ll hurt us too. It’ll be sad.”

Everything was becoming blurry, colors and sensations mixing together in agony. He couldn’t see, couldn’t smell, couldn’t move, couldn’t feel. There was only the sound of this voice.

“We’ll miss the song. Oh, the beautiful song! How we’ll miss it!”

“I can hear it too, Anders” a woman whispered. The Warden Commander! She had to do something! He had watched her cut down dragons, why wasn’t she doing anything? Why wasn’t she helping? Nothing had ever stopped her before, not archdemons, not self-preservation, not reason. “It’s heart-wrenching. There is a part of me that understands the darkspawn now. Why they long to hear it so much…”

She began to hum an unfathomable melody that was alien and familiar at once, like the impression of a song he’d forgotten in his childhood. Blindly he tried to reach her so he could make her stop, somehow, whatever it took, but there was nothing, only a great expanse of nothing where her voice became a drop in the ocean of the song.

It thrummed in his chest like it came from inside his bones—

“They call to us! They need us! Please! Grey Warden! Oh, Grey Warden!”

The whole world shaken by the song calling—

Anders awoke drenched in sweat with a sob. Eyes unfocused and mentally still entangled in the images of his nightmare, his hands shot up to touch his neck to convince himself that there was no darkspawn there. Relief when he felt that his skin was intact but it was running hot, crawling with something that weren’t there. He was trembling all over, couldn’t stop gasping, his stomach was rolling, there was a flash of blue. Quick, quick where—

Scrambling to get up, Anders managed to take a few steps before he had to lean against the wall for support and retched once, twice. The nausea was still there, but it receded just as much as Anders needed it to so that he could reach for a cloth and wipe the saliva and vomit from his mouth.

He looked around frantically, taking a moment to recognize he was in his own clinic. It was pitch dark in the room save for a little lantern and it slowly dawned on him that he must’ve fallen asleep in the evening, only to wake in the middle of the night from a nightmare. And how lucky that he did wake.

A nightmare… Anders always kept a bowl or two of clean water around when treating patients. Knowing this place better than the back of his hand, he found one of them even in the relative darkness and splashed his face with the water. For good measure he rubbed his hands over his face, hoping that if he convinced himself enough that he was awake, the sick sense of dread looming over him would disappear. The scratch of his stubble was oddly grounding, but his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

It had been so visceral. Even now he felt little aftershocks of the “song”. And if there were not the usual noise of a night in Darktown, he was certain that he would be able to hear a faint melody from deep underground.

Maker’s breath, he had to get out of here.

As Anders headed for one of the exits to Lowtown he passed the faces of people he’d seen too many times. There were children that were growing up before his eyes in the dirt. He hastened his pace.

To wander the maze of Lowtown alone at night as a mage was among the most stupid things one could do in Kirkwall. Anders could not find it in himself to care, feeling himself embraced by the night’s chill when he reached the surface. It soothed his burning skin much like ointment did to a wound. A sigh came over his lips as he tipped his head back to gaze upon the stars. See? he thought triumphantly to himself. No ceiling, no stone. Only sky. Just a regular night in Kirkwall, whatever that meant these days.

He drifted in and out of alleyways he’d never seen in the years he’d lived here to stay out of the templars’ sight, along streets he’d last walked before he’d met Hawke. There was no one place he really wanted to be in right now, he was simply grateful for the quiet in his skull that the movement and the cold afforded him. Hadn’t really had much of that lately, or ever, since he’d let Justice in. He looked down from a ledge of a dead end to the docks, his gaze sweeping across to where the few lights of the Gallows gleamed. It was a bit strange, if he thought about it. Justice made it hard to remember dreams usually. Somehow Anders had assumed that if he were to experience a nightmare again, it would involve a templar. It would have been kinder.

The wind tugged at Anders as he stared transfixed at the circle, strands of hair falling into his eyes. The longer he looked, the louder his heart thumped in his chest, the muscle squeezing like a clenched fist as images flashed before his eyes. He tried to push them away, but Justice would not relent. When Bethany’s face entered his mind, Anders pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes.

“I was just going for a walk” he muttered, bracing himself against Justice’s reproach. “You know, I thought it was you who said that there’s beauty in this world and now you won’t even let me appreciate the moonshine. That’s more than just a little unfair.”

He raised his head again to the one moon shining bright tonight, hands trembling once more. Something in him stirred at the sight so that even Anders had to smile a little. The serenity of night. The gratitude of a mage holding up pieces of their broken phylactery. The relief when the fever of a patient finally broke against the odds. Finally storming the baroness’ estate. The amulet Hawke had given him that he kept under his shirt, just out of sight but he always knew it was there. Darkspawn blood gleaming on the Warden Commander’s blade. A cat purring on his lap. The granite fortifications of the keep. A ring, a ring made of lyrium, she’d given him a ring. The people of this plane couldn’t hear it, but he could. Like the fade woven into sound, a beautiful song that calls…

Ander’s stomach lurched unexpectedly and he managed to clasp his hand over his mouth before he threw up this time. With great effort and his insides still twisting he swallowed it back down, coughing and gagging as he stumbled away from the ledge.

A spike of irritation. It’s not that kind of song, Anders thought. He retraced his steps to an intersection, taking a path that lead left through a narrow alley as his restlessness returned with a vengeance. And it wasn’t his memory for sure. A rat squeaked in panic when he nearly stepped on it and he cursed as the critter hurried past him. He darted out of the alley, then down a flight of stairs hewn directly into the stone, starting to feel as though something was lurking right behind him.

Why was he angry? The Warden Commander had never wronged them. Because it wasn’t about her or about wrongs. Anders’ coat nearly caught on one of the iron spikes jutting out from the ground. The problem was that he had never wanted to go back there, but Hawke had taken him anyway. And what did he do? What did he hear?

He’s not Vengeance. Or wasn’t he? He’s not a demon. But we’re an abomination. Anders gritted his teeth. Fenris was right on that account at least. He had become an abomination long ago, even if the process wasn’t as sudden as the Chantry would think. Justice wouldn’t like to be reminded, but if it weren’t for Hawke and the others, they would have slain that poor girl they’d meant to protect. And underneath the Vimmark Mountains they’d turned his magic even against his friends. All because—

Anders’ throat was beginning to hurt even though he wasn’t even running. Feverishly he touched his neck to prove to himself once again that there were no teeth. A piece of himself had never left the Deep Roads. And what remained of Justice now? Some memories and a rage that seared him to the bone. Behind him he heard footsteps and the rattle of armor.

What if it was a templar?

Yes, what then?

Somehow the question didn’t come with enough fear. Or any. The truth was that right now Anders almost hoped a templar would come and find him. He didn’t need a staff anymore to defend himself, thanks to Justice magic would pour all too readily through the veil. One dead templar, one dead mage, Anders feared that at this point it didn’t even make a difference anymore. Anders peered over his shoulder. A guardswoman stopped in her tracks when she noticed him, narrowed her eyes, and then continued to walk her round without a second glance. Likewise Anders picked up his pace again as well.

He wasn’t an abomination. Vengeance was angry now. He was spewing Chantry propaganda at himself because it was difficult to care about this world, beautiful and broken as it was. He couldn’t give up now just because it was difficult. There was too much here that had gone unpunished and not a day would pass without more suffering heaped onto the pile unless this whole damn system crumbled. He wasn’t an abomination.

Anders recognized the area they were in now, the streets broader to accommodate the crowds that usually mingled here. There were people shrouded in darkness in the corners of the market, but none of them looked his way. His nails were digging into his arm and he wondered if maybe he could...

It was a trap; every mage lived in a trap. Push a little to pull your head from the noose and the rope around your neck only tightens, every single time. Vengeance prodded, reminding him of Karl until Anders had to bite the inside of his cheek. Thousands of voices in Thedas were crying out for Justice! Somebody had to answer the call, even if it was a losing battle, even if he was going to try to hold back a tidal wave by himself! He wasn’t an abomination!

He was a liability! Anders took two stairs at a time, his blood boiling despite himself. Chill had turned to cold in the time he’d wasted running around, but he was pretty certain there was a passage back to Darktown nearby. If he was lucky he could get another hour or two of sleep before the daily grind picked back up.

Was he running away again?

He wasn’t running. Wasn’t he? The Warden Commander smiling at him, one of her rare smiles. In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. Anders or Justice remembered her reciting the motto to herself in a light-hearted tune before leaving for Amaranthine to defend it. This was his chance to remedy his cowardice.

Anders didn’t have the energy left tonight to argue. He knew, yes, he knew there was no turning back and that he had chosen this. There was no escape from the Wardens, no escape from the Calling, from Justice, from himself, from the path he’d chosen, from the path the templars were forcing. But wasn’t he allowed to be angry to know this for a little while? Wasn’t he allowed to mourn that for all the freedom he fought for, Anders had forsaken his own? He hadn’t wanted to be an abomination.

Vengeance didn’t understand anymore. It would be the most beautiful thing of all to see the circles fall, no matter what it took. No more Ser Rylocks, no more Ser Alriks, no more Merediths.

Anders frantically looked around—

It’d be beautiful but it wasn’t all that Anders wanted. He’d wanted to be free, and now he’d never be. He had made a demon out of Justice, he couldn’t trust himself to make the right decisions. All of this had been a mistake. And even if he succeeded, one day the taint would come for him.

Don’t think like that! It wasn’t his fault that the world had made him like this! This was worth every price! He knew that!

There had to be something to get him out of this, change of course—

He couldn’t be trusted, couldn’t be relied on! He didn’t know what to do!

He would find a way, he had to! The circles had to go! They had never cared about the suffering they inflicted on mages, generation after generation! Whatever he could do it would be justified! They had sealed their fate centuries ago!

They had to go, but—

IT WOULD ONLY BE JUST!

Anders winced, the words booming in his skull with terrible finality. Something in his mind was burgeoning against his defenses, the veil around him straining and warping under its stress. Anders hissed, stemming against the tide of righteous fury and frustration that incensed Vengeance. The pressure abated not long after, but the damage was done. His heart and head were pounding, everything in him was reeling as it had when he’d woken, but suddenly he remembered: he knew where he was. Down this street past the merchant’s stand, one more set of stairs, then turn right. He was nauseous with resentment, though he couldn’t say if it was his own or who it was aimed at. He almost stumbled his way up. It was embarrassing that it felt as though he would be okay if he just made it there, maybe, but he’d lost all of his dignity already running through Kirkwall like a madman. Might as well act like a child and pretend the bad things can’t get him so long as the candle was burning. He rounded the corner, his heart skipping a beat. When he saw it, relief washed over him warmly and he couldn’t help but laugh.

Somehow he’d made it to the Hanged Man just in time.

Not giving himself the time for second thoughts he pushed past a drunken patron through the entrance door, praying that they weren’t closed yet. With a creak the door swung open for him, allowing him to step inside, the tavern reeking of desperation and hundreds of beers and ales spilled over the decades. Barely anyone was still here. The old man who was always muttering to himself was sitting at one of the tables by himself, apparently only half-awake, and a man was leaning on the counter where the tired bartender Corff was already eyeing Anders. No Isabela, no Varric. Shit.

“We’re about to close.”

Anders paused and dug through the pocket of his coat for coins. “Enough time left for me to get a drink, right?” He gave the man a strained smile and slid the silver he’d found across the counter, hating the way he couldn’t keep his hands still. The man caved.

With his freshly-purchased drink in hand and a view to the door Anders plopped down on one of the benches in the back of the room, sinking in on himself a little. He hadn’t planned to actually drink anything, but the longer he sat the more he became aware of how drained he really was. A dull ache spread through his whole body from exhaustion and his throat and mouth were parched while hair stuck uncomfortably to his forehead with sweat. His mind was suspiciously quiet when he raised the bottle to his lips and drank. The sense of doom and the heat of anger however still formed a tight knot in his chest that kept him tense, so he knew it wasn’t over yet. Static buzzed in his ears.

When the entrance door creaked once more, Anders perked up.

Sheer dumb luck, Anders couldn’t believe it, it was sheer dumb luck that the person who entered really was Varric. When he spotted Anders he raised his hand in greeting and made a beeline to his table.

“Varric, we’re closing!” Corff yelled in dismay, but the dwarf only waved him off.

“You know, you should probably consider listening to him” Anders commented as Varric took a seat across from him against the bartender’s protests. “One day he’ll stab you in your sleep.”

“Oh he’s harmless” Varric said. He opened his mouth as if to elaborate, but something in his expression changed when he looked at Anders. Then after some apparent deliberation with a bit too much sincerity: “…You look like shit.”

The corners of Anders’ lips twitched up reflexively, unsure yet if he wanted the concern. “And here I was thinking I only felt like it!”

Anders didn’t feel like joking, he hadn’t felt like it in weeks but there was something soothing about when they both broke out into nervous chuckles over his quip. A bit like a reassurance that oh right, so he could still talk like a person.

“Did you run into any trouble?”

Anders made it a point to yawn. “I just fell asleep in the clinic. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Varric didn’t inquire further even though Anders could see that he knew it was a bit more than that. There was a twinge of disappointment and unease. Usually Varric would fill moments like this with empty talk but for some reason he was holding off on it. So they sat suspended in unnatural silence until Anders had drunk the last drop from his bottle. He licked his lip, waiting for Varric to strike but nothing came. The only quiet sounds came from the bar and the fire crackling nearby, the static in Anders’ head grew louder. He was getting ready to abandon ship if this was how it was going to go, when it occurred to him what Varric was doing.

Anders studied his companion’s face, who was pretending to read a letter he’d pulled from one of his pockets. It would be terrifyingly easy to tell him about everything that was troubling him; really, a part of Anders yearned to let it all spill out of him in the hope that maybe once it was out this pressure in his head would be gone. That used to work. But there was too much to put to words by now, steeped in too much shame, and too much that Varric for all his kindness simply wouldn’t understand. Or shouldn’t have to hear. Once he said it, he would never be able to take any of it back. But, Anders didn’t want to leave. He desperately didn’t want to leave and be alone with himself. And there was something that he knew would be safest with Varric. It would be a compromise.

“I should come back in the evening when the others are here” Anders ventured.

Varric didn’t even look up. “Oh come on. You don’t come by the Hanged Man much anymore, would be a shame if you left so soon. You must’ve missed the filth.”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Don’t be so serious, of course you have! It goes great with your look right now. So, are you staying?”

Corff was glowering at them now. “Sure.”

Varric stuffed the letter back to where it came from with less care than one would a handkerchief and got up. Anders hesitated one last moment before he followed suit, swallowing his reluctance as he took the familiar path up to Varric’s room. In all the years he’d known Varric, somehow the room had stayed mostly the same. Much of that was probably to blame on the tavern itself, but it still struck Anders now that it had been some time since he’d last been in there. The biggest difference he could make out was that there were now chairs to accommodate a human or an elf; there were little traces that friends had left. It was weirdly cute.

Anders sank on the chair closest to Varric’s favorite little throne, stretching out his legs. For a room at the Hanged Man it was really quite nice, even if the lack of windows was depressing. He felt a bit out of place.

Varric took his seat and wrung his hands. “So what are you in the mood for? Need an editor for your manifesto, or do you want to brainstorm—“

“No” Anders cut him off sharply. “Not tonight.”

“Somebody’s touchy” Varric scoffed. “But alright. What is it then?”

Anders tried to collect his thoughts, frustrated with himself that he was so out of practice that he couldn’t be like Varric and talk about things without mentioning them. His gaze lingered on the vase with wilted flowers Varric kept on his desk next to an unopened bottle of a Tevinter vintage. “I’ve been thinking about how I’ve gone into the Deep Roads twice now since leaving the Grey Wardens.”

“Oh? You’re not getting nostalgic now, are you? I know I said you should reconsider your career but…”

“No. No, not at all. I absolutely despise the Deep Roads. I’m still angry at Hawke for asking me to come along at all. I thought he knew better than that” Anders admitted, the words bitter on his tongue. Acrid fumes, the unnerving feeling of another creature in his blood. “But it’s hard to say no to him, so guess I’m the idiot.”

At that Varric’s expression briefly turned serious again. “It’s just our luck that whenever the Deep Roads are involved, we either get screwed over or somebody’s got it out for Hawke. But I could also live without ever having to go down there again.”

“That isn’t the point. But it’s actually a bit funny. Hawke reminds me at times of the Warden Commander.”

“How so?”

“Charismatic bastards that attract a special kind of trouble and surround themselves with the worst kinds of people” Anders deadpanned, relieved when Varric relaxed again.

“We’re just a bit rough around the edges” Varric replied. “But go on, I’m interested in hearing this.”

“How much have I told you before?”

“Aside from the story of how you were recruited and how mad the templar was that the Hero of Ferelden and the King were both telling her off? A story here and there. If I didn’t already know the Order is fishy, I’d have guessed as much from how you talk about them.”

Anders clicked his tongue. “Well then. Care to hear about my dark past?”

“Sure” Varric said with a wink. “It’ll come in handy if I ever need inspiration for unrealistic Grey Warden characters.”

Anders grinned. “So have you heard this one before: the Hero of Ferelden, a drunk dwarf, an apostate and his cat, a member of the legion of the dead, the son of the disgraced Howe family, a slightly homicidal Dalish mage and a rotting corpse walk into the Deep Roads…”

“A corpse?!”

“And yet somehow the dwarf smelled worst” Anders joked. “Oghren was a complete pig. At first I didn’t really understand why we were bothering with him, but apparently he’d traveled with the Warden Commander during the Blight. Turned out he really had a hand for cutting down darkspawn. So much so that he left his wife and unborn child to go kill more of them. …Thinking about it, I’m sure he would have loved the Hanged Man. Filthy, barely any sunlight during the day, cheap alcohol…”

“Ouch, that was unnecessary” Varric grumbled. “But I’ve heard that name before. Maybe he should’ve just stayed in Orzammar, Maker knows they’re always trying to get their hands on lunatics like that. A corpse though—”

“The strange thing is that they were all like this” Anders insisted. “And if they weren’t from the start, they would be by the end of it. Nathaniel made the classic mistake of trying to assassinate the Warden Commander in revenge for daddy dearest and got recruited as thanks. He was a terrible grump about it too and said he'd rather be hanged. But give it a little time and before you knew it he was fully indoctrinated. So maybe what Orzammar really needs is better recruiters.”

“I’ll let them know somehow” Varric snorted and rose from his seat. Anders watched him grab a bottle and pour its content into a glass. He was beginning to feel as though a string that was cutting into his flesh was threatening to loosen, only a little bit. Varric placed the glass in front of him and settled back into his own chair, keeping an expectant eye on him. “Go on.”

Anders nodded to Varric in silent thanks and eagerly drank the watered down ale. “She’d recruited really anyone who seemed half-way capable and was unlucky enough to cross our path. So that’s how we ended up with Velanna and Sigrun. I think Velanna only listened to us because the Warden Commander was Dalish herself. When we found her she was having a grand time burning down trade caravans because she was convinced her sister had been abducted by humans, when it was really darkspawn. Sigrun got recruited after we fought our way through a thaig together. She was an awfully cheerful lady for someone who was supposed to be dead. Pick-pocketed me at least six times for sport though.”

“And it kept working?”

“She was really good.”

“I’m sure she was. And…?”

“And then there was Ser Pounce-a-lot, the best kitten anyone could ask for. There isn’t much to say about the corpse, Varric.”

Varric put his hands up defensively. “Excuse me, but you can’t drop that in there and expect me to not be curious!”

“That was Justice’s old host” Anders explained, overcome with a shiver that wasn’t his own. “He doesn’t want me to talk about it. Just know that he was there.”

“Oh.”

Anders’ vision zeroed in momentarily on the wine bottle. Another bottle just like this always stood in Hawke’s study where he needed it most. “But I think that gives you a pretty good idea of what we were like.”

Varric hummed and scratched his chin. “Should I be worried that you’re comparing us to that little cult you’re describing?”

“In our defense, we were a pretty fun cult sometimes.”

Anders set his glass down softly before he crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair and frowned at the ceiling in thought. He’d always kept to the stories that didn’t require context or detail beyond the way the hurlock had tripped over his staff and off a cliff. He hadn’t thought before about how to convey personalities or meaning while leaving the important things unspoken. The Warden Commander wiping blood from her cheek, bent over the dead body of the ogre she’d killed. Hawke breathing hard, checking to see if he had killed the Arishok for good.

“Think about it: If it weren’t for Hawke, none of us would given the other a second glance” Anders began. “That’s what it was like with the Warden Commander as well. They’re the kind of people that draw others to them and make you want to stick around just to see what they get up to next.”

“That… puts it well actually.”

“How many times has Hawke asked you to join him to do something that is obviously a bad idea? And you went along anyway? That happens practically every other week.”

“Like all the times he decided he’d pick a fight with every gang in Hightown? Or maybe when he took us to the Wounded Coast and got involved with hunting down an extremely dangerous criminal? Everything involving the Qunari? My personal favorite is the time he went to kill some dragons with us in the Bone Pit.”

“Exactly—“ Anders had to swallow, “but you always expect things to go well just because he seems so convinced that it will.”

“And it usually does.”

“It does. Every time we go into a fight I can’t help but trust him.”

He stopped himself there. Why had he agreed to come with to the Deep Roads? Because so long as Hawke was there, it was as though there was a lifeline. The inevitability of this world seemed to hold less power over him and it was eating Anders up with envy and admiration. He had no choice but to want to stay near. Varric waited patiently. Perhaps he understood what Anders couldn’t think.

Eventually he asked: “So what did the Hero of Ferelden do that gained your trust?”

“Oh, I saw her do a vertical leap and ram a sword straight through an ogre’s skull.”

“…You’re shitting me.”

Anders shifted for comfort, glad to direct the conversation into a different direction. “I’m serious. And she made it look easy, too. It was equal parts disgusting and impressive.”

“What did that look like, exactly?” Varric asked, sounding casual but Anders recognized that curious glint in his eyes.

Anders felt another grin pulling at his mouth. “We were harmlessly traipsing around the Wending Woods killing darkspawn, when suddenly that big stupid beast charged at us. All the Warden Commander did was to jump straight up and angle her sword right and the ogre practically impaled itself. She braces herself against the ogre that is still barreling forward, yanks her blade out and blood explodes everywhere. We’re all hit by the spray while she manages a perfect landing as the ogre collapses behind her.”

“Do you have more details by any chance?”

“She had her sword enchanted with a rune that imbued it with electricity, so it smelled of smoked darkspawn in the whole clearing. Is that graphic enough? If not, I can go on all day. Grey Wardens kill a lot of darkspawn.”

Apparently delighted by what he was hearing Varric sat straighter, his hand hovering near a quill but not grabbing it. Anders took it as an invitation anyway, blowing the spider webs off memories he’d kept stowed away. He started off with the easy things, stories like the ones with the ogre. Violence was mindlessly entertaining after all. Gesticulating dramatically he told of encounters with sylvans, of blighted wolves, of the ghosts of dwarves conjured by stone hacking at impressions of darkspawn, reenacting their deaths until the end of time. He regaled Varric with all the darkspawn heads that had exploded from shield bashes, arrows and magic blasts. Whatever bound him was unraveling. His heart beat fast in excitement whenever Varric interjected and needled him, when they both laughed at the absurdity of it all. Nathaniel once shot a genlock with its own arrow. One hurlock was so confused to see its fellow darkspawn beheaded in one swing of Oghren’s axe that it suffered the same fate. Velanna’s fireballs had singed Ander’s robes on more than one occasion. Soon Varric began to share his own tales, giving Anders the space to remember the little things quietly by himself. Taking a week to learn that the Warden Commander’s name was Serket because nobody ever used it. Sigrun proudly showing off the brass telescope she’d been given. How he smuggled Ser Pounce-a-lot along on missions and had to chase after the cat through half of Amaranthine. He was feeling more like a person, more like himself than he had in months.

Vengeance’s ache continued to sit with him through it all but it was different now. What had split his head in half hours ago with every heart beat was just the occasional throb behind his eye. The separation between then and now may only be paper-thin but it was there. No, so maybe he wouldn’t tell Varric of the Architect with his intelligent darkspawn and that Hawke and Serket thus had more in common than immunizing against common sense. He wouldn’t talk about the children or how he was being eaten alive by his choices. But with Varric he didn’t have to for the pressure to ease.

By the end of it Anders was curled up in his chair, his coat hung over the backrest for cushoning. The conversation had trickled away somewhere along the way. The stasis wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was tinged with the melancholy of knowing that morning had come. There was a sliver of light coming from under the door. Varric had gotten up and laid down out of sight from him some time ago. Anders scratched his neck in anticipation, static back in his head as he bated his breath. This silence wasn’t empty yet, the way it was when people decide to go to sleep. This was the twilight hour in between. The backrest dug into his cheek.

“Why did you leave the Wardens then?”

And exhaled. “That’s complicated.”

“So?”

“I was a different person back then.”

“Well yeah, people change. That’s what being a person is like.”

Feeling the fade touch his mind when he agreed to take Justice into him, believing with all his being that this would be the key. A queasy mixture of joy and bitterness accompanied the memory as he and Justice couldn’t agree. The water had only continued to rise around him. What did he have to show for the person he was now?

He could hear Varric turn over. “Listen, Blondie. So maybe you weren’t a good Grey Warden. But you’ve picked another battle that’s about as insane and that unfortunately seems to be working for you.”

Anders stared into the darkness of the room wordlessly, blinking as though stunned. He waited until he was certain that Varric was asleep, listening close for his breathing. “Thank you, Varric.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Of course he’d say that. If he were to mention it to Varric later anyway he’d brush it off and find a way to paint it as the most incidental thing in the world. Anders curled in more on himself even though would become painful soon, finally closing his eyes. A deep calm crept into the space the tension had left behind.

Varric’s friendship was so often understated like that. It made it so easy to want to confide in him, simply because he didn’t ask too much. Nothing had to be serious. He cared in a way that Anders hadn’t had enough mind to appreciate lately. Maybe you couldn’t trust him to keep all your secrets, but you could always trust him to remind you that you were only a person. Varric was a good friend. He’d have to find something to give to Varric, something that would leave a trace of him, something to express… He’d find something… something…

Hours after Anders had left, Varric noticed a single tawny feather on the ground under one of his chairs. He picked it up, held it between his fingers briefly before he placed it gently among his other keepsakes.

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #dragon age fanfiction #anders #varric

19 notes · View notes

rueitae · 4 years ago

Text

Writing Roundup 2020

This is a writing reflection I’ve been doing for myself every year for the last four years. Its a positive boost to myself see how far I’ve come and look back on my progress for the past year and look forward to the new year.

Everyone is welcome to use this same format if they’d like to do the same!

~~~~~~~

Stats:

Words written:

330,000, which is nearly half of all the words I’ve written on Ao3 in the last three years.

One Shots Posted (all fics plance unless otherwise stated):

In the Arms of the Ever(pink?) Tree (4463 words)

For the Plance Secret Santa exchange. Post s8 date/not date on a snowy moon. Love confession.

Birthday Treats (2129 words)

For Pidge’s birthday this year! Domestic family fluff, breakfast in bed, plance kids.

Begin Again (Together) (4805 words)

Canon divergence from before episode one! Pidge and Lance are established dating when alien intervention brings them to where they are supposed to be: with the Blue Lion. Just a brief look into what the AU would look like.

Common Ground (4521 words)

A treat for my friends who introduced me to Magic Knight Rayearth and pointed out some fun character parallels. There is this beautiful art Arya made to go with it because we’re all trash for both series. Plance meet up with Fuu and Ferio post series for both couples.

Bonded To You (1808 words)

For the Langstron Halloween Exchange! Established plance with a baby Lance is trying to keep safe from a witch who would take advantage of the child’s heritage.

It Tasted Good (6785 words)

Pikelavar for Pikelavar Month! The premise is crack, but it's mostly treated seriously. Pike ate the Jewel of Jitan by accident and doesn’t realize it until Haggar finds them. Meklavar gets Protective.

The Remainder of Days (3188 words)

Part of my Bad Things Happen Bingo. Fantasy AU where Pidge is a minor forest goddess and Lance is her neighbor mortal farmer.

I Love You a Lily More Each Day (3232 words)

Another of the Bad Things Happen Bingo. Canon compliant where Lance is undercover at a flower shop and knee deep in an illegal smuggling operation.

Lease on Life (4978 words)

This one was also part of Bad Things Happen Bingo and was an experiment. It’s POV of an oldest plance kid, canon verse. Her parents’ Paladin days come back to haunt them one night. Some cute family stuff too in there.

Ready to Dance (4135 words)

For the Valentine’s Day exchange! Post series. Lance tries to get back into the party scene and Pidge rescues him from a disastrous night.

Loopholes (5476 words)

Technically I didn’t write this fic this year, but a very kind reader asked if I would post this to Ao3, so it was my first fic of the year on Ao3. It’s Lotura! Originally a gift for a dear friend I’ve had since elementary school. It’s a fantasy AU where Lotor stumbles into Allura’s kingdom needing help.

Next to Me (7311 words)

Also for Bad Things Happen Bingo, this is probably one of my favorite fics of the year. This is the canon verse AU that went all wrong in s7, and Sendak succeeds in destroying Earth. Lance and Pidge end up not only his prisoners, but also two of the last humans in the universe. Ends open ended, but it became a series in the end!

Into Me (14248 words)

The sequel to the above fic. There are two versions, this and the one below. The title tells all. Lance and Pidge come to terms with their new life aboard Sendak’s flagship and do their best to keep the other comforted.

Into Me (non-explicit version) (7228 words)

Exactly the same as the fic above, only this one is SFW

Sunshine (3831 words)

A Bad Things Happen Bingo! One of my favorite concepts. Canon verse. Pidge gets sick while she and Lance are on a scientific mission.

Showoff (635 words)

A really short fic for a friend on their birthday, featuring their plance kids!

Respite of the Heart (4181 words)

A fic I have been wanting to write for a very long time. I love the concept of Pidge as a Disney Princess in the sense she has the forest guardian theme and all these animals love her. So there’s some play on that as the Paladins stop for lunch on their journey back to Earth in early s7. Lance comes to a realization and they have a chat surrounded by the animal friends. @anchoredtetherart did a phenomenal piece to accompany it. Please look at it in awe here.

The Hardest Part (3960 words)

For Bad Things Happen Bingo! An AU of the episode The Reunion where Pidge doesn’t return when she’s supposed to.

A Planned Sacrifice (4988 words)

Another Bad Things Happen Bingo. Canon verse. Pidge assumes that being a sacrifice for the ‘forest god’ is strictly ceremonial and at worst a wild animal. It’s actually Sendak, who no one has seen since Shiro shot him out of the Castle. He remembers Pidge and is far too pleased to see her again, tied up on a silver platter.

Almost Forgotten, but Not Gone (3946 words)

Bad Things Happen Bingo. AU sometime in s1 where Haxus isn’t as dead as Pidge thought.

Touch (7519 words)

Written for the Lance Goes Boom bang! It was inspired by @fenixseraph ‘s amazing art here! It’s a different take on The Way Forward, where Pidge and Lance are separated from the rest of the team and placed in their own cell. And the Red Lion causes issues.

Chaptered Fics started/added to:

Wolf In Thieves’ Clothing (4516 words)

An AU of The Castle of Cagliostro from Lupin the Third series. Lee, you have my thanks forever for making me watch this finally. Pidge is a literal princess whose kingdom is in the middle of an internal coup. Lance is a gentleman thief who rides with his best buds Hunk and Matt. Their paths are destined to cross again when Lance goes back to the castle he used to call home.

Game of Love (4593 words)

The most crack of the bunch. AU of Fall the of the Castle of Lions where Sendak and Haxus get away with it all. Pidge and Lance are prisoners on Haxus’ new ship, and Lance finds an opportunity for eventual escape when he learns that Haxus has a crush on his second in command. Operation matchmaker begins. (happy ending planned for all)

What Tides May Bring (20704 words)

Collab with the fantastic @anchoredtetherart for MerMay! Established plance as mermaids and guardians of their elements with adorable mer child. Then angst because they are all captured by a ‘research’ institute.

Seasons of Magic (16546 words)

I actually added a chapter this year! Ongoing collection of one-shots with mage Pidge who lives in the country and cultivates her plant magic and makes potions with the assistance of her dragon familiar, Lance. Mostly domestic fluff.

Too Soon and Not Soon Enough (11438 words)

Added another chapter this year to my Keith-centric AU. It’s basically VLD but five years early and they’re all literally child Paladins. Keith gets to meet Krolia earlier and its fun to go into tween friendships as they try and navigate the reality of their situation.

Seeds (48833 words)

Added a ton earlier this year. A collection of plance fics all or mostly under 500 words. All meant to be adopted by others if interest strikes. Covers many genres.

Chaptered Fics Finished:

Resolve to Fly (75799 words)

Written for the Pidge Angst Bang. My artist @alchemie0 did an outstanding job capturing the feel of the fic. Look at the art here! Canon verse AU where Pidge encounters Haxus, who has crashed on Earth. She helps him repair his ship in excitement and good faith, which he pays back by kidnapping her. For two years she survives as little more than a housepet on Sendak’s ship. Gen.

Who's Protecting Who? (28989 words)

Also technically not written this yeah, but posted. A collab with Hush waaaay back in 2018. It's a plance Altean AU with Pidge as distant royalty and Lance as a bodyguard.

A Dish Served Cold (21533 words)

Finally finished this one! Canon verse in which Pidge accidentally runs into Sendak on an isolated planet. Sendak takes advantage of this encounter and tries to return to the Empire with her in tow. Much Pidge whump. Gen

Reflections:

Best title

I still really really love Too Soon and Not Soon Enough (11438 words). Because it's too soon for the Paladins to be Paladins, and for Keith it's not nearly soon enough for Krolia to return. It just feels like it has a lot of heart to it. I hope I can keep it going, but my ideas are incredibly scattered for it.

Worst title

Touch (7519 words). Yeah it’s a play on ‘Don’t you touch her’ but it feels soooo dry.

Best/worst last line

Best: This was really, really hard choice this year, but ultimately, making up for the terrible title, its Touch (7519 words)

“It feels good to escape the ship with all of his teammates, secure in the knowledge that he has a way forward not just as a Paladin, but also with Pidge.”

- Not only did I manage to fit the title of the episode in there, it's got that hopeful tinge to it and reflects on personal growth both internally and with Pidge.

Worst: This one isn’t necessarily bad from Begin Again (Together) (4805 words), but it could be better. It didn’t get quite the epic sense I was hoping to pull from it.

“Okay,” he smirks, hand firmly on the throttle. “Operation save Earth starts now.”

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

Definitely wrote way more. Even with posting two fic that are essentially the exact same, I still ended up writing nearly half of my total Ao3 word count this year. (330,000/670,000). Doing Bad Things Happen Bingo was a bit part of that - I was very inspired at the beginning of this year - but also there were many events I participated in (8 total!!) on top of my personal projects.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

A really hard decision this year, because there are several that make me really happy. I think oddly enough though, it’s Game of Love (4593 words) because of its potential and how much crack it is. It has such whacky rom-com energy to it but also that underlying angst of the situation I can fall back on. My favorite trope to explore is what happens to the characters when they’re captured. I just really enjoy the concept and the challenge to make such a concept believable with minimal suspension of belief.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

Using kudos as my gauge (and not counting the chapter fics), the winner is:

Respite of the Heart (4181 words)

Not surprising because Ivy’s art is STUNNING.

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

I think that’s It Tasted Good (6785 words), the pikelavar fic. Pikelavar is underappreciated in general

Story that could have been better?

For all I was excited to write Sunshine (3831 words), it didn’t quite fall the way I had imagined in my mind. I don’t know if it was the structure or I was running out of steam or what. All i know is that I wanted more but all I could concentrate on was that scene where he’s caring for her in bed. Maybe I was just too ambitious.

Sexiest story?

No brainer it's Into Me (14248 words). Literally. Which really shocked me that it happened. Didn’t think I’d write any smut at all, let alone this year. This particular fic just kinda called out for it

Saddest story?

The prequel to the above fic: Next to Me (7311 words). How much more sad can you get than Earth being destroyed, being Sendak’s prisoners all while trying to tell each other ‘i love you’ without seeming weird because you’re the last humans in the universe.

Most fun?

I think it's Ready to Dance (4135 words). Just Valentine’s fluff and impromptu slow dancing in the park at night.

Story with single sweetest moment?

I’m picking What Tides May Bring (20704 words). Listen, mer Lance and mer Pidge playing with their mer baby in their domestic paradise is probably one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. Dad Lance has my heart.

Hardest story to write?

The last chapter of A Dish Served Cold (21533 words) was like pulling teeth. I’m pretty happy with it in the end but at the time man it was so hard.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

I wrote smut. It was...weird? But also strangely calming. I wrote more for another fic but it's still a WIP. I definitely need to be in the mood to write it.

Proudest Achievement:

The Pidge Angst Bang. Resolve to Fly (75799 words). Look at that word count. I only wanted something under 3k at first, so it was just going to be Pidge meeting Haxus. But by the time I finished that part it was already 10k. So even though I was going through a rough part of my life, I just kept going and it ended up being my therapy. I’m really proud of the fic and I love my artists’ pieces. It really lifted my spirits. (You should all really go check out the Ao3 collection of all the bang stories and art they are AMAZING you won’t regret. If you love Pidge angst they are all must reads.)

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

I’d like to finish my Bad Things Happen Bingo card and then focus on my current WIP, that includes the Seeds collection. There are days I still feel a bit overwhelmed, and I’m still trying to find a routine after moving. I’d like to do more events too, but I think I need to be more selective about which ones I do. I don’t want to burn myself out.

Apart from that, I’d really like to try and give back to the community more. I’d like to start consciously writing fics for others without an event to go by.

Past Years:

2017

2018

2019

#plance #pidgance #rueitae #writing roundup #my writing #vld #2020 writing roundup

26 notes · View notes

dahniwitchoflight · 4 years ago

Text

Homesquared Chapter 16

Alrighty, that was a fun tangent, now back to John it seems?

Oh, no, Narration of John (So Actually Dirk, speak of the devil and he shall appear and all that etc etc)

“ leaving John with one final touch on the shoulder. John leans into it in response, though he’s a bit ashamed of chasing down a sliver of physical affection so soon after obliterating Karkat’s evening like he had. “

pfft lol so Im not the only one that thought it would be funny if that scene was interpreted in a Pale Romantic light, even though that really wasn’t what was happening

OIh! but we still get Roxy, just the other version of Roxy

Roxy subtly being like “hey!! shit has apparently gone down, were not exactly close atm but I feel bad about you dying to want to know if youre still alive so im gonna message you while trying to make it look like i dont care about it as much as I do”

JOHN: trying to align my memories of my youth with whatever is happening right now so

and the wonderful question is, what IS going be happening with you now John?

Roxy looking nice and casual, but also yeah narration, why are you making this ominous, its not like Roxy’s out here to double spy on behalf of Jane, I don’t think Roxys on her side THAT much

ROXY: may have to do a smidge more if my old bff decides im next on the list for bombing out

ROXY: but so far so good

ROXY: just a coupla exploded cars in the yard from some shenanigans our dear son and his friends were in but u kno it is what it is!!!

Roxy once again being a master of hiding how shes feeling, even when trying to open up, feeling pretty stressed about whats happening with Jane, understandable, the exclamation points give it away lol

The narration is really trying to make John nervous though

OH lol that was the implication haha no lol John it obviously wasn’t that

“John feels his shoulders unbunch. Of course. Yeah. He’s almost embarrassed by how relieved he feels. So what if his ex wife wanted to hook up? Shouldn’t that be a situation he could navigate? Don’t people like to find solace in human physical connection during dire times? Why did the idea of it make his mind white out in panic more than, say, any number of the traumas he just experienced? He doesn’t know, but he believes Roxy that he must look pretty haggard. He probably feels haggard? Maybe sitting down will feel better.“

lol once again, Dirk has no idea how to read Roxy at all and just trips over himself and his assumptions XD

Yeah, looks like Roxy not on the Jane train and is doing some takesies backsies, shes glossing over her feelings on the matter still though, I know thats par for the course of how Roxy tends to handle stuff too but I wish shed open up a bit more, but maybe shes playing the smart game, yknow, knowing that Dirk has a hard time reading her, so glossing over stuff is how you protect yourself against the narrative force, confusion and vaguery in the narrative and her actions only helps her to keep control over it, because at any point, you can decide to “clear up” any narrative “miscommunication” or “confusion” and lay down what is it thats actually happening with you any time you want

Void working in the behind the scenes to do what they want

JOHN: like it’s my HOUSE.

JOHN: but mostly it always felt like my dad’s house?

JOHN: and when i started living there after i moved out of here, it was like i crammed myself back into whatever was left of my kid self?

JOHN: and it didn’t feel good, but it at least was familiar, you know?

JOHN: like living there let me feel closer to my dad, trying to be like the way i remember him, or like how i remember him wanting me to be, or something?

JOHN: and i didn’t realize how much i hated doing that until i saw it all go up in flames.

JOHN: so i guess i could have used my powers to stop the fire and save whatever was left of the place, but i couldn’t bring myself to do it.

JOHN: like some fucked up part of me was glad i got there too late?

JOHN: so i just sat there, watching, trying to figure out why watching my house burn down felt like i was being released from prison.

JOHN: and even now i keep trying to explain it away, as though it’s because of how fucked up everything else is that it made me feel good.

JOHN: but that’s just bullshit.

JOHN: it DID feel good.

JOHN: i DO feel free.

JOHN: sorry.

ROXY: no need 2 apologize

ROXY: we just delved in2 my whole gender thing last time so it seems fine for u to have a turn

JOHN: i didn’t say it was a gender thing.

Im pretty sure you’re talking about a gender thing John, like, very 100% sure now this is what’s happening

because if you were actually a girl, of course you’re dad leaving all these notes about how one day hes gonna be so proud of the man youll become, yeah, that can feel a little pressuring, even if your dad didnt mean it like that, since he was unfailingly the kind of dad just bumbling around trying to understand their kid as best they could and leave encouragements everywhere, thats what his intent was, but all his notes come off a bit wrong in particular issues

remember the note under the fridge that was all like “SON. IF YOURE READING THIS NOTE, YOUVE FINALLY BECOME STRONG ENOUGH OF A MAN TO PICK UP THE FRIDGE.” not exactly that but that was always the vibe Dad’s little notes always had

Yeah, i can see how John would view it as a bit off, but if he hadnt the self awareness to realize it was a gender thing at the time, hed be understandly confused as to why such a thing would bother him

now though, he’s realizing, maybe, he doesn’t exactly want to be the man his dad always encouraged him to be

John does seem a lot happier here in his convo with Roxy than he did on his own when the house was burning, that conversation with karkat left me wondering if John was about to start dissociating he was so down, but here he says he feels freeing and happy about it?

ROXY: but like now that u mention it

ROXY: *meaningful pause*

JOHN: …

JOHN: i

JOHN:

John’s beginning to question stuff, or acknowledge that he’s questioning stuff, cuz it’s true, and hes feeling happy about it, in a way that he wasnt before, but he hasnt quite connected the dots here between the happy feeling and what exactly he has to be happy about

ROXY: aight then no wind bending just use your mangrit

Roxy flexes, the corner of her mouth pulled up into a familiar grin. John feels his guts, so recently calmed, twist up into knots again. Her eyebrows shoot up and the smile loosens. He must have shown something on his face.

ROXY: ok or just like push when i push

ROXY: we both got sick muscles

ROXY: no other adjectives necessary

JOHN: yeah ok.

Yeah Roxy’s 100% picked up on it, and maybe Dirk has as well if the narration is commenting on it

Alrighty then, to the secret lair under the bed!

oh I just noticed how kind of cute and interesting Roxy’s nickname for Harry is, “Lil H A” Harry Anderson shortens to Ha like laughter haha

and if Harry had Roxy’s last name, it’d be Harry Anderson Lalonde

Lil HAL

lol what is Callie doing under Roxy’s secret bedchamber XD

This whole secret bedchamber thing is turning into one big metaphor isn’t it?

That thing behind the curtain kind of looks like the Attic Portal shape from Hiveswap though

that’d be neat if that was it, like obviously we knew one of the cherubs had to have something to do with that portal just going by the design of it alone

Honestly it makes sense that Callie is doing it under the curtain of Roxy’s Void, it’s honestly the safest place to do something like that

lol Calliope has grown past writing fanfic about shipping and being in love, now the drama of broken relationships and divorce is all the rage XD character growth? haha

CALLIOPE: besides, hUman divorces are even more fascinating than i had ever imagined, and being able to witness yoUrs in motion was an honoUr.

CALLIOPE: so i consider Us aboUt even at this point.

Calliope just burned him harder than his childhood home’s destruction

CALLIOPE: ah right, right. yoU're probably a little cUrioUs as to where the dickens we are.

have you been talking to Jake lol (I mean, probably Original Grandpa Jake tbh if that portal is actually the portal)

Alright so John is getting caught up on the major plot points, Earth C is indeed in the large black hole, his choice didn’t matter since both choices happened anyway yadda yadda

CALLIOPE: think of it like a coin flip.

CALLIOPE: the series of events that led to Us being trapped beyond the event horizon of an Ubermassive black hole could be considered "tails", while the events which would have occUrred otherwise could be considered "heads".

CALLIOPE: since both were possible, and paradox space is the way it is, they actUally both happened. and we jUst "happened" (hee hee) to get tails instead of heads.

yup yup yup pretty par for the course of timesplits in homestuck so far

CALLIOPE: not at all! since both possibilities depend on one another's existence, it really doesn't make sense to call them "right" or "wrong". they both just "are".

yup, this is true, the ending’s of both referenced the others, so it’s disingenuous to say one is “canon” while the other isn’t

one is simply in the realm of actual possibility, the other is in the realm of unlikely possibility

More than likely, John would have chosen to leave and go die and be the hero like in Meat, but there was still the possibility that he would stay, even if it was unlikelier than the other, but since both were possible choices for him to realistically make, both actually happened for real

CALLIOPE: anyway, the reason i went on this tangent in the first place was to explain that the space we are standing in right now has a special significance, in that it is the location which corresponds to the black hole's singUlarity

that’s interesting, so there’s the original meteor that crashed into the surface of Earth C, and it’s in here that the singularity of what I don’t wanna call the Green Hole to match the Green Sun when I wanna talk about this specific Black Hole lolol

but yeah, here in this meteor lies the crux of the paradox it seems, interesting, also interesting again, this is where that Hiveswap Portal is

Hiveswap does have a plot point of “Joey must do thing in 11 days otherwise Earth and Alternia will be destroyed” and the only known destruction event of Earth and Alternia so far in canon is the Green Sun’s Creation from the destruction of both universes (and then later Callie’s destruction of the green sun into the black hole) so is Hiveswap gonna be a factor in the green sun’s destruction/creation as well? (Joey has the symbol of the Green Sun for a reason, I’m super curious as to what factor Joey has in relation to the Green Sun’s Existence, We still don’t know what the fact those black monsters are too, they’re like nega-first guardians, the kind of things that look like would come out of a Black Hole that came from the Green Sun tbh)

It’s all inter-related I tells ya

ROXY: ur not gonna enter a weird time vortex and change the trajectory of a little girls life with the power of love

JOHN: aw.

You say that now but

CALLIOPE: it's not strictly speaking "bad" for Us to be inside of a black hole, mUch thoUgh that contradicts most of what anyone knows about them.

CALLIOPE: of coUrse, if we had fallen into it, that woUld be a whole other kettle of fish.

CALLIOPE: the tidal forces woUld have stretched Us all into spaghetti and then ripped us apart!

CALLIOPE: bUt the natUre of oUr arrival was more akin to simply "being" here, sUddenly. one moment we were not, and the next moment we were, and somehow always had been.

yeah that’s basically how this multiverse’s reality works, the future is a thing that already physically exists, just in a different location in the universe somewhere else

time travel and spacial teleportation could be said to be the same thing all along

that’s why violating the events of the future has actual consequences, because its like asking to go somewhere that doesn’t exist but how has to exist because it’s the future, too much of that and reality starts cracking at the seams to make room

same thing happens with sessions and playing sburb

the planets and dreaming moons and all that simultaneously have always existed here, and started existing only because the player played the game and the planets were generated upon entering a session, but to the player involved, it looks and feels like you are just being teleported to a different location in the universe, because you also kind of are

CALLIOPE: i mean, the natUre of space and time is a little finicky in here, bUt for the most part it doesn't seem to be anything too oUt of the ordinary.

CALLIOPE: bUt beyond that, it means that we are sealed away from the rest of existence.

CALLIOPE: oUr sphere of inflUence is limited to the sphere of the black hole's bounding horizon.

CALLIOPE: as far as everyone else is concerned, we might as well not even exist!

So you’re just in a little seperated bubble, that’s not connect temporally to any other place of existence, you aren’t anywhere in the past or the future of anywhere else

nowhere leads here, and here can not lead outwards either, theoretically, and yes it exists, so it must also

JOHN: is there no way we could let anyone know that we're in here...?

CALLIOPE: almost certainly not!

CALLIOPE: there are very few ways for anything to escape the kind of predicament that we are in right now. one of them is to be an all-powerfUl being with control over the very fabric of space, with the energy of two Universes at yoUr disposal.

CALLIOPE: in which case, escape woUld become rather trivial, if a little Unscientific.

JOHN: ok. i am going to assume that we can't just do that.

CALLIOPE: yoU've hit the nail on the head, UnfortUnately. U_U

CALLIOPE: the method i described was the one employed by my alternate self, who yoU may recall crashed through the event horizon in the body that once belonged to jade harley.

CALLIOPE: she departed through a pUnctUre she created in the black hole's surface shortly after consUming my brother, a deed which provided her with the necessary "oomph", and which was frankly rather breathtaking to watch. =u=

CALLIOPE: bUt Upon her departUre, the rift closed for good. as far as i can see, there's simply no way for Us to commUnicate with the world oUtside the black hole.

CALLIOPE: i woUld certainly be very sUrprised to find oUt that anyone had managed sUch a thing!

So someone else definitely has managed to do such a thing

JOHN: knowing that we're inside of a black hole... does that actually change anything?

JOHN: like, can't we just go on living like normal?

CALLIOPE: oh absolUtely not.

CALLIOPE: i don't know if yoU've noticed john bUt this world is on the brink of a total cataclysm.

JOHN: oh.

CALLIOPE: oUr exclUsion from the overarching coUrse of events which governs all reality means that oUr existence here is liable to dramatic and violent Upheaval.

CALLIOPE: to pUt it another way, becaUse nothing in here "matters", we are likely to be sUbjected to things which are a bit bats in the belfry, for no reason other than it's totally insignificant to the wider canon of reality.

CALLIOPE: and mUch thoUgh i am personally titillated by some of the conseqUences of this predicament, it is a degrading way for Us to live. u_u

JOHN: that's... certainly one way to put it, yeah...

yeah, so because here in the black hole neither affects the past or the future of anywhere else, being so disconnected, they are technically free of the reigns of the Alpha Timeline that exists elsewhere in the multiverse

the Alpha Timeline now being understood to simply mean, The Narrative

Things are the way they are because they are thus written to be so

CALLIOPE: at first, i believed that this was simply necessary. Us playing tails to oUr coUnterparts' heads, the black to their white, and so forth.

CALLIOPE: bUt over the years i have come to the conclUsion that this is simply not kosher.

ROXY: its total bs is what it is

CALLIOPE: right, yes.

CALLIOPE: a steaming pile of bUllshite.

CALLIOPE: and so we have decided that something needs to be done aboUt it.

Hmmm. It’s a dangerous idea to be playing with for sure, to decide all the black pieces in the game of chess suddenly become white, it is a very flip turning of reality upside down to be sure

To be honest, I’d think you’d need a powerful Doom player at your disposal to even try something like this

or actually, a powerful Doom user would be most likely to shut this entire thing down, knowing how bad of an idea it’d be, maybe it’s more you need a powerful Life player to do something like this instead

is that also why Dirk viewed Jane as an ally then? She would technically have the kind of power to upend the black and white doomy laws of reality if driven to her full potential, i mean obviously yes, we know this already because of the candy colored I-can-do-whatever-I-want-with-no-consequences lollipop

Is this what Calliope hopes to achieve with the Hiveswap Portal then? her goals for Joey and friends are to be the ones to prevent their universe’s twin destructions, and thus the Green Sun’s initial existence and then also the destruction into the Black Hole after the fact? that would be one way to prevent the Black Hole from existing, making it so the thing that creates the black hole never exists either

and that's certainly a canon event that would be difficult to tear asunder without major consequences

That would be a “Re-writing Homestuck from the very beginning” level of canon event

And if I’m correct, Joey is theorized by me to be a Mage of Life, if any classpect at their full potential was gonna do something like that, or have the impossible knowledge to something impossibly paradoxical like that, well..

ROXY: but u dont need to worry abt busting us outta space jail tbh

ROXY: thats not ur problem to fix

JOHN: oh.

JOHN: i'm... not sure i follow, then.

ROXY: i mean yeah ur gonna obvs facilitate it in a sense

ROXY: but only by going and busting the person who can actually help us outta normal earth jail

CALLIOPE: we need yoU to free vriska from the clUtches of oUr misgUided friend jane, and bring her here, to the singUlarity.

ROXY: weve been calling it the plot point

CALLIOPE: yes, the plot point is a key part of oUr plan.

CALLIOPE: as far as we have been able to sUrmise, the only remaining method for escaping oUr grim confinement depends on leveraging the UniqUe properties of this location to create an event of sUch catalcysmic proportions that it simply cannot be contained within the black hole any more.

CALLIOPE: something SO dramatic, so hyper-relevant, that it becomes ontologically impossible for anyone to ignore it.

CALLIOPE: for that, we need an individUal of sUfficient narrative cloUt, so to speak.

CALLIOPE: and to liberate her, who better than the embodiment of the aspect of freedom itself?

I mean yeah! makes sense! Johns major factor here is Freedom, Vriska’s is Importance

and yeah, I can think of no other wholly dramatic event that to mess with stuff with the Green Sun, everyone will have eyes on that, they have to, their whole existence the way it is relies on it

But, they could also mean something else, its only condition is that it has to be something so imflappably impossible, something so not-canon and so outrageous that it basically horse-shoes around to the other end of the canon spectrum to being something that truly exists again

and that could be literally anything and it’s nerve wracking and exciting to see what thing theyre gonna come up with to just directly kneecap Homestuck itself

ROXY: thx babe

ROXY: oh is it 2 soon for that joke or

JOHN: no, weirdly enough, that one’s fine.

(yeah that’s because Babe can be construed as feminine June)

so, I’m basically convinced they’re doing June Egbert now

that to me was like, pretty severely on the nose

John: Hey Roxy, what it does mean when you find a sense of freedom when all of the symbolism of the masculinity surrounding your childhood burns down around you

Roxy: idk It’s probably a gender thing man

John: I didn’t say the word gender-

Roxy: It’s ok babe no pressure, we can hash it out later

John: Hmm, later then. :)

Roxy: (Turns and looks towards the camera with a knowing smile)

shit all that imagery makes me think of Roxy as that picture of the small kid smirking at the camera while a house burns in the distance XD

#Homesquared #june egbert #john egbert #yeah theres no way there not gonna bring up June Egbert as a apossibility now #Roxy couldn't have quirked her eyebrows harder at the fourth wall if they had tried #Homestuck #I'm basically convinced now lol #that plus my reaction to chapter 14

21 notes · View notes