#lead to insurmountable guilt immediately after.

[dirtytransmasc]

I refuse to go into more detail, but, I will no longer hold my tongue. my biggest gripe with this fandom is the way a majority of it erases Lo'ak's actual trauma and struggles (with his identity, his father/family, his clan, etc), and essentially gives him Spider's traumas/struggles in some idealized form (whether for over the top and oversimplified "hurt/comfort" scenarios, or max woobification), while absolutely dragging and/or ignoring Spider's entire character and the realistic depictions of those traumas and what that does to a kid.

like I can't exactly put words to it or go into a deep analytical post, but I've been thinking about it, and some other stuff I've seen online have been making me think about it.

stop doing a disservice to both of my boys. they both have such interesting and complex stories and you're ruining it!!!

[dead-boys-club]

†  burnout : aizawa.

❥ scenario: aizawa comforting his s/o ❥ i don't think burnout is a trigger but- ❥ no beta ❥ not a request.

dread. everything brought a sense of dread that you couldn't shake.

the apartment was quiet and still, the usual comforting hum of the city had turned into something grating, an overwhelming drone that added to the pressure crushing your mind. you sat on the couch, body heavy and aching with exhaustion, not only physical, but the kind that bled deep into your core, sinking into your bones. the simplest of tasks felt impossible. the signs of burnout had begun to creep up on your a few days ago, something you tried desperately to ignore, but they had taken hold.

you tried your best to push through, to hold onto your daily normalcy, but to no avail. today, the thought of getting up to even get food felt like an insurmountable task. your senses were heightened to the point they hurt; everything was too loud and too bright. the material of your shirt made you want to cry. your thoughts had turned into some vicious spiral of fatigue and frustration.

shota returned from a meeting without a sound, immediately noticing the change in your demeanor as he stepped into the living room. ever observant, he took in the way you were hunched forward, a distant, overwhelmed look in your eyes when you looked up briefly. he knew you well enough to easily recognize the signed. you weren't just having a rough day, no - he could tell it was burnout simply looking at you.

he approached, slow and quiet, not wanting to startle or overwhelm you further. he sat down, giving you enough space to not feel closed in or trapped. he just wanted you to be able to feel his presence without feeling crowded.

'hey,' he said, keeping his voice soft, the tone calm, something you always found comforting. it made you feel safe. 'you don't need to say anything, but i'm here.' he always is and it made you feel guilty.

you glanced up once more and met his gaze, the concern so clear that it made your heart ache. shota had always been your anchor, comforting you endlessly. even now, when you felt as though everything was slipping through your grasp, he was unwavering.

'i'm just.. tired,' you whispering, looking down.

with a small nod, shota reached to collect your hand softly in his, fingers lacing with your own. 'i know,' he said, thumb moving in careful circles, 'you don't have to do anything, not right now. you need to rest.. i'll take care of everything.'

his words eased your nerves and you felt a wave of relief, like the guilt of not being productive was lifted from you, knowing you weren't being seen as a nuisance. he always simply understood, like it was second nature. that understanding was what you needed.

silence fell over you as he stayed close by, offering compassion. it was comfortable and you were thankful for how easy it all felt. his presence alone was always more than enough, grounding you to reality, remembering you were never alone. you knew that with him.

after a while, he gently squeezed your hand. 'do you want to move to the bedroom? get a little more comfortable.'

the thought of moving didn't sound good, the action felt like it would be too much, your bones aching even more and so you hesitated. your hesitation was overrun by the idea of hiding in bed, away from the noise of the world. you nodded and shota stood, gingerly guiding you up to your feet along with him. he was always so careful with you, making sure you were steady.

he was slow in leading you through the apartment and to the bedroom, not wanting you to be rushed; he wanted you to go at your own pace, trying to avoid making you feel like you needed help. getting to the room, he shut the door behind you both and left your side long enough to pull the blanket back and adjust your pillows. as he guided you to sit down, you knew the way you looked up at him was pitiful, his own gaze offering nothing but love. you couldn't even begin to thank him for how he was.

'do you want me to stay?' he asked. he already knew the answer as it was generally the same but he always made sure to have open communication with you. he used moments like that to reassure you about saying what you wanted or needed.

'please?' you asked. shota didn't answered, just moved to join you in bed as you began to get comfortable. you were pulled close to his chest and his arms went around you in a tight, protective embrace. the rise and fall of his chest eased you, soaking up the warmth that radiated from his frame; it was so soothing, allowing the tension to bleed away, melting into him.

'i'm here, love,' he mumbled, lips pressing to your crown, lingering there. 'i'm not going anywhere.. just breathe and just focus on me. the world can wait.'

you did your best to ignore the burn at your waterline, eyes closing as you let his words sink in, echoing in your head. the burnout didn't go away so easily, the exhaustion still weighing heavily on you but with shota holding you, it felt at least a little more manageable. he didn't push you or pry; he never forced you to explain or played games with you and he never made you feel weak or useless due to it. he just offered his presence, his love, his support and his own strength - unconditional and unwavering, always.

you could feel the light touch of his fingertips over your shoulder, tracing shapes against the thin material of your shirt, coaxing you further into the cocoon he'd built. your breathing slowed with his own, the storm that had been raging in your mind began to calm and you were grateful, even if it only lasted a little while. in the stillness of the moment, you found solace, knowing no matter how overwhelming the world became, shota would always be there to guide you through it.

with a weak smile on your features, you tucked closer to him and dozed off. you would continue your fight later on.

[theboywantscoffee]

I always see theories about how Five developed his coffee addiction. If it was as a child (I find this one the least believable as Reginald didn't have coffee in the house and also I don't think most kids have the palate for black coffee) or if he discovered it during the apocalypse (more believable, if we are talking instant coffee, but with how limited potable water would be in this circumstance I would wonder how willing he'd be to use any of it for making coffee, not to mention the odds of him regularly finding instant coffee seems slim).

My theory is that he develops the coffee addiction once the Handler enlists him into the Commission. Even when Five is safe and sound in whatever lodgings they have set up for him, with unlimited access to food and water, where the air is easily breathable and no longer filled with smoke and carcinogens, where he has shelter from the elements and can rest comfortably in a bed once more... he can't sleep.

He's ridden with guilt. The guilt of having left Delores behind in the apocalypse by herself after she was the only thing that helped him hold on to any semblance of sanity for 45 years. The guilt of leaving his deceased siblings there, even though by this point they are nothing more than bones beneath the dirt. The guilt of getting stuck for 45 years, suddenly getting an easy way out after all that time, and he still hasn't figured out the math to jump back and stop it all from happening to save his family.

And then there is the difficulty of reassimilating back into society, back into humanity. He struggles with social situations, coming off brash and arrogant and has absolutely no filter around his superiors or coworkers. He can't rid himself of the notion that the commission has been watching him for "quite some time" in the apocalypse yet waited how long to enlist him? He doesn't trust any of them. He knows he is nothing more than an easily replaced soldier to them. He feels suffocated in rooms that are crowded and can't rid himself of the notion that they are out to get him in some way. He is frequently butting heads with others due to this distrust and the paranoia nestles itself deeply into the back of his mind and keeps him up at night. They installed a tracker into his arm. He can't get away from them, no matter where or when he goes to. He is theirs and he knows this.

And then there are the flashbacks, the PTSD. Simple things setting him off. A coworker smoking a cigarette, the scent of it and smoke from it bringing him back to the apocalypse. Seeing clusters of children playing while on missions, reminding him of the youth he lost and the family he abandoned. Dead bodies, for a while, are one, until he's able to somehow not think of his siblings remains when he sees one. The soft sounds of paper rustling from the breeze of an open window remind him of the scuttling of roaches against broken concrete and he has to leave the room when he sees them even when they're not actually there.

Then, finally, the biggest reason he can't sleep... the nightmares. They're a common occurrence. Almost nightly. He can't seem to get any rest without his mind immediately bringing him back to the apocalypse, to the moments leading up to it. In some of them he is a distant observer, watching his rebellious 13 year old self mouthing off to Reginald. Watching him run out of the academy. Dreaming Five can't stop him. He tries but he can't move, can't speak, can't scream at himself to stop and go back! the way he wants to, and so he's stuck watching himself fuck it all up again over and over and over. In others he is haunted by the figures of the siblings he found deceased. Sometimes their corpses are mangled, burnt, and rotting, in far worse condition than the way he found them. Other times they talk to him. They accuse him and blame him for their deaths, for their final moments having been filled with insurmountable pain and agony. Sometimes Ben is there with them, telling him that he could have saved him, could have stopped his death, but Five abandoned them out of his own selfish desire to prove a point and now he's dead. When he wakes up from these dreams he is drenched in sweat and struggles to breathe. And sometimes in his dreams he's simply just living the daily nightmare that was surviving in the apocalypse. He can still feel the emptiness of hunger tearing at his stomach, so famished its nauseating. He can still imagine the way his skin felt on fire from exposure to the elements, the way it would crack and bleed and burn. He can taste spoiled foods and cockroaches on his tongue and there are times he awakens and has to stumble to the bathroom and vomit. He dreams of Delores, alone and afraid without him, still in that same spot that he left her. Sleep brings him no rest and becomes a worse off prospect than being awake.

And so... he drinks coffee. It's easier to be awake. Easier to control his thoughts and minimize his contact with triggers when he is alone to his own devices and can focus on math instead. He drinks it like it's water. He considers a night of 3 hours of sleep to be a good one. On the days leading up to difficult missions or simply the days his body really can't go on any more without rest, he drinks alcohol instead. He drinks enough that he passes out, many times with pens and books still in his hands. He gets by like this, developing his coffee addiction while fleshing out his alcoholism. He sees the benefits of this in the progress of his work and continues with these habits because even if they are self destructive and harming him, it doesn't matter. He doesn't matter. What matters is getting back to 2019 and saving his family. He is disposable once they're saved. Crippling trauma, addiction, and PTSD be damned. All that matters is stopping the end of the world for his family.

... and this is how I think Five develops his coffee addiction. Thoughts?

[omniscientwreck]

To Belong

Alright here’s some hurt/comfort as requested. Canon divergence where Caleb wasn’t able to dispel Gaudius’ hold on Essek. 

One of Lucien’s many eyes looks toward him and everything slows. Warmth seeps in through his pores, sinking in through skin going straight to his head. He hears their call and for a moment he resists but, why would he? 

He’s never belonged. He didn’t belong in Roshona, surrounded by religious zealots blinded by the comfort that comes with trust. Incurious, simple minded fools. He didn’t even belong with the Nein, not really. None of them trust him, he’s been eclipsed by his sins and nothing can break through to them. 

He needs a blank slate, if he is to belong anywhere he has to be able to start over completely. That is what Gaudius offers, a new beginning, no judgement, no proving himself. He doesn’t have to work for their acceptance and love fills his heart. The Somnovum will take him as he is and there’s never anything he’s wanted more.

Everything is clearer now, these people were never in it for him. He drags his hands, beginning to pull at the strands of gravity as Lucien fills his mind with the power he can achieve once he’s one with them. When he joins the city.

The human lifts his hand to cast at him and without even thinking he waves his hand to counter the spell. “Essek no!” The blue tiefling looks horrified, feigning care even now. 

He curls his fingers in, pooling gravity and thrusts his hands forward, centering the darkness on the wizard who’s toyed with him for nearly a year. The effect isn’t immediate but it will pay off, he’s sure and those caught inside, the humans, the clerics, the angel, the halfling will feel it’s effects soon enough. 

The firbolg is the first. He hasn’t taken much damage but this seems to get to him. As Essek’s fingers clench he crumples like paper and Essek squeezes before releasing. He flies as far as he can but it isn’t far enough. More will come. 

Up next, he feels the thief resisting, she’s strong and muscles through but it’s not pretty. Her form stretches briefly as he pulls and stretches with two hands before snapping back into place and he’s sure she cries for the wizard who cannot hear or see her. Something twinges in the back of his mind but Lucien calls out again and he remembers the family waiting for him. 

The monk tries to appeal to him through her newfound abilities, she seems to be able to see through the darkness. She tries her hardest to reach some part of him still foolish enough to turn away from happiness and towards them, he hardly listens. She moves to run out of his grasp but just before she can make it he grabs hold and twists. Her body contorts and he can almost feel her crumble away, but she gains control and she just barely breaks out of his grasp. 

He feels Caleb try to resist but his efforts just aren’t enough. He looks Essek directly in the eyes, and he hears whispers of the wizard’s voice try to get through to him, “You must break free, we need more time”. Essek’s face stretches into a wicked grin at this obvious manipulation tactic (I will show you belonging the way he couldn’t bear to) as he twists his wrist and pulls down, compressing the body in front of him. The wizard nearly leaves his influence but he’ll have another chance to take him down. 

The angel didn’t stand a chance. She can’t resist the pull of his gravity and even if she could scream the monk’s name she wouldn’t be able to see her or save her. As he finishes with her his mind drifts back to memory, spurred by the wizard’s sweet words. We need more time. It will take time. You were not born with venom in your veins. Something snaps in the back of his mind and the Nonagon’s whispers turn to acid in his mind. He can see properly, he drops the spell and turns to Lucien, screaming as he turns on the beast with nine eyes, unleashing a torrent of inky black lightning, hitting him square in the chest. 

-------

The battle is over and by some strange grace they’re all alive. The Nein are both celebrating and consoling each other. In the end they appealed to Molly and, for the second time, he was his own undoing. 

It feels like intruding to be there, he who has done another irrevocable deed. He would leave immediately if he still had the energy but that effort is insurmountable. Caduceus had gotten them back to their own plane and they’re resting in an open field, surrounded by Caleb’s alarm spell, taking turns at watch. None of them are quite ready to be around their loved ones quite yet, needing one more night together as a family before dealing with the gravity of what they’ve accomplished. 

Fjord holds Jester, keeping an eye on the horizon and whispering comfort as she silently cries into his shoulder. Beau and Yasha are curled together trying to sleep, Caleb has Frumpkin around his shoulders and Veth is curled into his side, Caduceus’ legs overlapping with Fjord’s in the tight space. There’s hardly room for Essek to sit in this small circle of sombre camaraderie, and the emotions of his travelling companions are simply too much for him so he stands to put some distance between them. Just for a moment. Just so he doesn’t have to look them in the eyes.

He stands, knees cracking and makes his way out to he open field. Nobody seems disturbed, none of them react and nobody calls after him. In the night air he’s met with stars and silence, the night sky used to comfort him. Now it’s a void he could be swallowed in and with the way he feels right now, he wishes it would. 

His hair is coated with somebody’s blood, his body is battered and bruised and his spirit is shattered. They’d taken him along to help, they’d allowed him such an important opportunity to redeem himself and he’d nearly killed them. He’d made it far easier for Lucien to knock them down, luckily Caduceus and Jester had been focused and able to heal quickly enough. He’d ended up being a burden and once again a traitor. 

“Essek.” He hears his name, a warning so he isn’t startled. Caleb’s voice drifts on the breeze, “Are you alright?” 

He sighs, letting his head fall and squeezing his eyes shut. “No.”

“Let’s sit.” 

He obliges, silent, waiting for Caleb to set the tone. 

“You need to know we do not blame you for what happened. Yasha turned too, these things are not our fault.” 

He can’t bare to look over but he does anyway. Caleb’s eyes shine with worry, furrowed brow pulling creases into his forehead. “It could have turned out so badly Caleb. That magic, it’s made to kill. You are all very lucky for your ability to escape and my comparative lack of experience in battle. I could have turned you to dust.” 

Caleb sighs, “Guilt over hypotheticals is a waste of your time and energy. You could have, but you didn’t. We’re all still here, and we wouldn’t be without you. Don’t let yourself fall into the trap of comfortable self-loathing, you’ll waste years.” 

“You couldn’t understand Caleb, I was convinced. I didn’t even want to resist. It was only-” he pauses on the brink of the confession and decides to throw caution to the wind, “It was only you that brought me back. My mind wasn’t my own, I was imprisoned and lied to and I was stupid enough to believe it.” 

“I understand more than you know.” He looks instantly older, Essek has frequently wondered what Trent had done to Caleb to take such a bright and excellent man with so much kindness in his heart, and turn him hard. “I have been deceived, lied to, it lead to my worst moments. I’ve told you we are not so different and it’s clearer now more than ever. If there is redemption for me, as I’ve been assured many times there will be, you will find yours.” 

Essek shakes his head, “It would have been nobler for me to die for the world than to continue this pathetic existence. It would have been a just end, poetic and balanced. Now there’s so much unresolved I don’t know where to start or where to go.” 

Caleb’s hand covers his on the grass, “Well, we can start by researching, it’s what we do best. Everyone else has someone to go to, family to see, something to go back to. I only have forward momentum, more to learn and see. You could join me, we can go back to Aeor and see what comes.” 

Essek nods, “I do not deserve that but because I am a selfish creature I accept your offer.” 

Caleb squeezes his hand and he looks up again, into his eyes, “It does not matter what you think you deserve. You are not the decider of what I offer you.” He has a fierce look about him, he may have hit a nerve, “Trust that I know what I want and when I say I want you with me it’s not out of pity or some savior complex. Let me offer you this and quell any self-pity or doubt. I’m not obligated to like you or want to be around you, but I do because I like you Essek. I think it should be plain by now that I like you a great deal and I hope that you will come along with me, to see where this leads us.” 

Despite himself, Essek turns his hand over under Caleb’s and tentatively laces their fingers together. He’s seen him do similar things with the Nein and when Caleb doesn’t flinch he relaxes a bit. “I will trust you in this. I am also quite fond of you. Thank-you, for your words. For your trust. One day I hope to feel worthy of such a gift.” 

Caleb squeezes his hand and leads him back to the tent where they sit side by side wordlessly before falling asleep, still holding hands.

[starshine-selfships]

Local man is desperately in love with his boyfriend but thought too hard and managed to convince himself that he made up the whole romance aspect and his partner doesn't actually feel the same way, so why even continue the act? Also he's wrong and his boyfriend loves him very much and that's all there is to it 😤💕

I am not a writer, I'm an artist, but I felt like giving this a shot. Both of us use he/him and I didn't actually plan anything, so I went back and color coded my own pronouns and dialogue; I do have a version without the colors as a backup however. Tbh I don't really care about the quality since again, I basically never write, and I also wrote this 100% for myself lmao, almost stream of consciousness baybee

That being said, I'm sorry I write like a pretentious victorian poet lsjdkdkx 😣

Soft. Just like everything else about him. Soft hair he yearned to stroke and bury his face in, soft hands shaping the air as he spoke, hands he wanted nothing more than to take into his own, to lift them and press a gentle kiss upon them. He even spoke softly, almost seeming afraid to break the silence, whispering and enunciating words as though speaking a prayer. Hearing his own name spoken in that quiet, intimate tone was enough to make him light headed, immediately overtaken by the delicacy of the interaction. His gaze was the most stunning feature, as it betrayed his past with pinpoint accuracy. The witnessing of humanity's cruelty did nothing to harden his stare; his eyes shone with a purely kind demeanor, merciful and trusting.

And such was the gaze fixed upon him in this moment, and he fought the desperate urge to meet it. He knew he didn't like eye contact and couldn't bear committing such an act of disturbance. He kept his gaze averted, feeling how almost painfully strong his heartbeat had grown, his frail frame beginning to shudder under its force. The incessant pounding had to be audible, and if that alone didn't lie the entirety of his being on the floor in front of him, then the heat steadily spreading across his face surely did. His emotions outpaced him, rushing with such force so that he'd never had a chance to restrain them, instead left fighting a losing war in a desperate attempt to not give himself away.

His gaze flickered nervously back to his beloved. He maintained that gaze long enough to see him smile warmly in response, causing his chest to feel just a bit tighter, his heart to beat only more forcefully. In spite of knowing his error - maintaining that dreaded eye contact - , he couldn't look away; to do so would constitute a betrayal, a moment of recognition followed by willful ignorance. He folded his hands, attempting to return the smile but being far too shaken for it to seem genuine. His darling softly laughed at the awkwardness of the gesture, voice as warm as the morning sun. He could no longer bear the strain of his sight, squeezing his eyes shut and turning away as the laughter rang in his head.

He had to be mistaken. His feelings should not be so insurmountable, something even he couldn't fully grip. He had lost all subtlety, and for what? The slim chance of reciprocation? Did such a chance even exist? He felt as though he'd combust if he remained in that room with him. The initially sweet feelings became sickening as he steeped in them, becoming almost shameful as they continued. He shouldn't need this. He was better than this. Was he though? Why couldn't he stop himself?

Simply stand up and leave? His legs would give out underneath him. Voice his firm objections? His voice would fail him. Physically remove that boy? The very thought of using any force at all placed more weight onto his chest, thinking of the sheer guilt and regret that would come from even accidentally inflicting pain. His attentive nature and eye for detail was his strong suit, but it was also what had gotten him more attached than he'd prefer, faster than he could've ever thought possible.

Beginning with patterns and habits he'd found amusing and leading to finding beauty in his every step. From seeing him avidly read and stargaze, to noticing how the sunlight reflected off his hair, to noticing the colors on barely visible earrings, to seeing his eyes flit back and forth between him and the window. Did he find looking at him to be unpleasant? Was he put off by the antennas? The insect features? The status? The reputation? Did not knowing also keep him awake at night? Did he like music? Did he think brown eyes were pretty? Why was he allowing himself to even consider these questions?

Foreign touch immediately grounded him, his eyes snapping open as he gasped in surprise. How long had he been lost in thought? How had his love gotten so close to him? His hand was on his shoulder. He slid it along his back, unfolding his arm and allowing it to rest on him as well. His touch was delicate, as though afraid of leaving a mark, despite him touching something so much more durable than himself. The affectionate gesture - no. Was it? Or was it merely a means of comforting what could be mistaken for distress? He kept his doubts in mind, not wanting to put an irreparable dent into the connection the two already had. Though, perhaps it would be for the better if he did. Tears welled in his eyes at the very thought of having to walk away, despite knowing it would likely be the best, and perhaps the only, option.

He noticed his love's other, empty hand lifted in front of him, frozen in air, likely pondering his actions as he made them. It was admirable, having such a sense of confidence that he didn't seem to need a plan for his course of action. He merely acted and accepted the outcome regardless, without fear. Yet another curious aspect of this boy that occupied his thoughts. He silently observed, watching him lift his hand out of view, only to grace his fingertips across the side of his face, settling his hand upon his cheek. Surely, surely he could feel how unnaturally warm he'd grown. It was something that had seemed endlessly amusing to his darling, how he was cold blooded and naturally cool to the touch; the heat of the blush had to be tangible. He truly feared how much more strain would be placed on him, the mere shared presence in the room alone enough to almost kill him. The physical contact overwhelmed him so badly he really did feel about to cry.

The gentle contact of his love's hand grew more forceful; still gentle, but with pressure indicative of a voiceless request. He turned his head with the nudge to fully face his beloved, whose face was mere inches from his own. Why was he so intent on such sweet torture? Had he caught on and decided to play before going in for the kill? He committed the sin of eye contact once more. Hazel, he'd been told. That was the color he saw in dreams, of a content present and a blissful future, that color of brilliance. Why wasn't he moving? Why was he allowing this? Why was his darling's hand in motion once more? Keeping his hand on his cheek, he had slid his thumb to the side, lightly gracing his lower lip. An unspoken request. No longer able to bear the weight of his own desire, he conceded to his affections and attempted to assent. He spoke, wide eyed and unblinking, his voice almost pathetically weak, borderline pleading in a strained whisper,

"... please...",

feeling defeated, yet also quite excited. He may have lost the war, but was being offered a consolation prize that would, even though only briefly, take away the painful sting of his own internal, personal loss.

His love inched yet closer and his eyes fluttered shut, as though he couldn't bear looking away for even a moment. He closed his own eyes as well, as if in response, but this time to better perceive instead of closing himself off. He could feel the warmth radiating from the petit boy in front of him, warmer than anything his own body could naturally produce. Basking in sunlight each morning to fully wake; spending the morning next to someone so close to his heart would feel just as holy. Like the delicate sensation of sunlight on the body, he felt the motion of his beloved as his lips graced his own, before he finally settled into the kiss, still subtly caressing his cheek with his hand.

He felt a quick tear streak down his face. Gentle gestures, all of them. When it came to him, they always were. It was as though he was incapable of harm in any capacity; he seemed almost afraid of being unloving or anything less than cheerful. His natural disposition towards brightness was reflected by everyone he interacted with, making others feel welcome and putting them at ease. In that moment, he also felt at ease, in spite of his doubts and insecurity, he felt at ease, melting into the touch of his.. lover? Was it fair to call him that? In the light and warmth of the kissing, it certainly seemed so.

After a period of drawing it out, going back for more and more, he finally broke away, opening his eyes once more to examine him. He opened his own eyes, slowly and with an amount of care, almost as if he were guilty after the act and nervous about what he would see. He looked into the eyes of the boy who stared back at him as though he were the one who'd put the sun in the sky. He softly smiled as he took in the scene, feeling tears begin to pool in his eyes once more. He felt he'd had confirmation that he was being irrational, but needed evidence that was nothing short of absolutely damning before he could fully accept it. He realized he was likely making him uncomfortable by looking him directly in the eyes again, they'd had that conversation before, he knew he shouldn't, it must be so irritating-

"Your eyes are so pretty."

He froze. He froze, finally breaking down and beginning to cry. His partner was well acquainted with his tears, and he knew there wasn't much he could do to stem their flow. Even with that in mind, he still wanted to console and soothe sudden wave of emotion.

"Are you alright? Do you wanna talk about it?"

A sing-song query in a half whisper. He sniffled and looked down at his hands, fidgeting in discomfort. He didn't want to overwhelm or alarm him, so he felt it best to choose his words carefully. But even then, he felt the horrific weight of finality hanging over him.

"Sometimes, I find it hard to believe that you do love me."

Confusion, hurt, and mild surprise. His lover almost seemed to anticipate it, making his heart feel like it was sinking further.

"Elaborate."

He drew a deep breath, sighing in pain and bracing himself for if he began to cry harder. The lump in his throat threatened to choke him. Barely able to speak, he forced broken sentences together, making a pathetic attempt to communicate anything at all before he dissolved into tears.

"Why?"

No response.

"Why me?"

Silence. The weight of every mistake he'd ever made was bearing down on him. Surely it was apparent how disgustingly flawed he was, not suitable-

"Well, this is a new one."

.. What?

"You really think I don't love you?"

He said it almost as though it were a joke.

"We've been together for almost two years now, and that's a choice both of us made. I can't even count how many chances I had to just, get up and walk away."

He cupped his face with both of his hands now; he lifted his own hands and placed them over his. He was crying freely, falling just short of actively sobbing.

"But I never took any of those chances. I want to be with you. You're a very sweet man and. Well it's horrible that you've got the mental conditions you do, but because we have the same kind, you've never missed a beat when it comes to making me feel better. And I wanna be able to do that for you too. You make me so happy and I wanna be able to make you feel the same way."

His head was bowed as he openly wept. He needed damning proof and it was handed to him, wrapped in ribbon and sealed with a kiss. He smiled through his tears out of sheer relief. His joy, his love, lover. The light didn't scorch and burn as he feared, but rather warmed and lifted the fog that had been enveloping him. He lifted his head once more, to look at his sweetheart with a mind unclouded by guilt.

"You don't like eye contact, you kept telling me-"

"I don't mind when you do it."

His eyes widened and his vision was once more blurred with tears. The lack of regret and remorse didn't unclutter his thoughts, and he was left unable to answer. What was there to say? Thank you? I needed to know that, despite already knowing it? My irrationality occasionally makes my life a living hell and I'm grateful for your extended patience? Admittedly, there was one thought that dominated and laid his soul bare on pure impulse-

"I love you."

"I love you too."

His lover slipped his hands out from beneath his own and motioned to encircle him in a hug, a gesture he enthusiastically returned. Resting his head against him, holding him and being held by him, knowing for certain that each step he himself took was perfectly mirrored by the boy in his arms; it was all more than he could ever ask for. He wished he could etch this moment into his memory, to never again doubt his lover or himself so deeply. While he did feel guilty for harboring such needless doubt, his partner would never be upset with him for worrying, and this he felt with certainty. Some of his many chances to leave very well were occasions where he'd been in hysterics over things that later proved to be inconsequential. He'd seen the ugliest and worst of him, yet, at the end of the day, he still chose love. His memories and the words spoken to him were perfectly interlaced, leaving no room for doubt. He was loved, and that's all there was to it.

[monchikyun]

18. where have you been all this time

(the third part of “the sun, the moon and all the stars, direct sequel to “creature most vile and despicable”)

At first, Gavin doesn’t notice the soft knocking, as he’s busy being hypnotised by the steam rising from the scalding coffee, not caring about the unbearable heat that he has submitted his palms to, just because he needs at least a small fracture of comfort. He didn’t get enough sleep last night, since the girls’ rest is always a bigger priority than his own. Always making sure they’re not suffering inside their dreams, even if his abilities can’t reach this far. It doesn’t work often, but sometimes, he gets lucky. Maybe the bed-time story helped or maybe they were just too tired to be bothered by some pointless nightmares. Still, Gavin hasn’t slept since this hell started, despite succeeding in providing the blessed escape to his children. That’s why when he does hear something unusual, he contributes it to his fuzzy brain that has tendencies to imagine things that aren’t there. Only when he realises it won’t stop, that it’s too loud and too distinct to be a hallucination, he goes to the door with a deep breath stuck in his throat. He can just about see a silhouette painfully familiar not to put his hopes way too high. And when he turns the lock and lets the visitor in, he can’t even see him properly through the tears. But it doesn’t matter, because the one thing he wanted more than life itself has come true.

Connor is back. Not a mirage, not an illusion, not his depraved mind’s wishful thinking. He’s here, in flesh and blood, not a limb missing. The light of his life has finally returned home. He doesn’t wait a second more and takes him in his arms, needing the last reassurance that this is indeed a reality. It reminds him of how much he missed the stupid android, how much he dreamed of this moment. He could die like this, whole and complete.

They fall to the ground and hold onto each other for what might have been five minutes or an hour, he can’t really tell. When they separate, Gavin takes a good look at Connor to see if he can get a single answer from his features before they get to the inevitable part – him asking what happened all worryingly and Connor explaining the atrocities he had to endure while he was trapped somewhere or worse. But there is the other option, the one he hasn’t dared to consider. Connor might have left willingly, needing space for himself and thought it best to not let anyone know. But in spite of making this awful theory, he doesn’t believe his husband is the kind of person who would do something this outrageous, under any circumstances. Besides, they have been happy, truly and undeniably so. He could feel it in his bones, in the gentle gestures and all the untamed laughter. Though that only confirms that someone hurt Connor, kept him somewhere against his will, and he can imagine a million cruel things being done to him that make him want to scream. So he prays that no matter how improbable it might sound, it was Connor’s own decision to disappear for a while.

He immediately knows that it’s not the case when he notices at the unnatural paleness on Connor’s face, the way his face falls on itself, trying to put an end to the tears. The spinning red on his temple betraying that something is horribly wrong. He whispers a comforting “I love you” to him and leads him into the living room so he can make a sense of what really happened to him.

The shaken android desperately leans to him, refusing any distance between them. So Gavin places a finger over the blaring LED ring, drawing soothing circles as if that would make it turn blue.

“Where have you been all this time?” The question is quiet, uncertain, like he doesn’t really want to hear the story. But he has to, because it burns in his chest - the fact that he has no clue of what Connor went through, that he can’t take it back and make it go away as if putting a band-aid on a scraped knee. It doesn’t work like that, he’ll probably carry it with him for the rest of his life.

“I… I don’t know.” Okay, this is unexpected. “My memory has been corrupted. Someone must have tampered with my system.” Gavin can hear how much this hurts him through the tremble in his voice, the sadness engraved in his face. This doesn’t make this situation all that much better. Who knows what they could have done to him, what’s even possible when Connor is one of the most advanced androids in the world.

Gavin connects their hands, not sure what he can do to help.

“I’m sorry.” It should be him who says it, not the other way around. He’s suddenly overwhelmed by fear, afraid of what hides behind the three words.

“They didn’t erase just the three weeks, Gavin. There is so much I can’t remember.” Connor looks at him with utter guilt written all over him, acting like all of this is his fault.

“I… I can’t recall how this all began, or how long have we been together, stuff like that. All details of my life have been blurred out. But it’s only the information, never the feeling. No one can ever touch those.” This revelation stings, it cuts deeps inside his heart, but the joy of having Connor back is insurmountably larger, able to alleviate this fresh ghost of pain.

Because in the end, it’s not all that important. They are surrounded by their past, the proof of it is the home they have built together. Every single item is full of memories Gavin can share with him anew. All the photos and the little trinkets commemorating every significant occurrence are still here and will be for as long as this house stands. What is lost can sometimes be discovered again. And it’s not like won’t take him to a repair centre the soonest he’s able to let go of him. Maybe they’ll be able to fix him there. And even if not, Connor is still Connor, the lovable idiot he can’t live without. 

“Gavin… do we… do we have children?”

So that’s the next few hours figured. After all, the girls have missed him as much as Gavin has, and it would kill them to know that their favourite parent doesn’t even remember their names anymore.

But they will make this work like they managed to solve all the other issues they encountered before coming so far. It’s just a hitch in their happily ever after, and as long as they’re alive, nothing can break them.

@convinseptember a day late but that’s to be expected xD

[argonas]

Misguided Justice - Pt. I

[[ Co-written with @kidcatgemini​ / @sinafay-the-defiant​ ]]

Evening had descended by the time Argonas set hoof on the small Arathi farmstead. Quaint and simple, the Vindicator could barely believe this is where his wayward student Sinafay had settled down. No measure of justice was served from such a simple life. But then, he knew she’d abandoned such duties in favor of her abhorrent and deviant lifestyle. His fists clenched as he paced up the hill from the fields proper, towards the small cottage overlooking the land. Smoke billowing from the chimney served as a sure sign someone was home. Sinafay… Grakkar… that abomination they called a child… he expected to find all three inside. Disgusting and unnatural as it was, that wasn’t even why Argonas was here. No, Sinafay’s transgressions far exceeded that, now.

Despite Raetos’ unwillingness to do what was necessary, and his efforts to convince the Vindicator of such, Argonas knew otherwise. Anyone who abided such evils as Avehi raising the dead were just as culpable as she was! By harboring and abetting the Death Knight, Sinafay had made her choice. And the Light demanded its justice. It almost hurt to consider; he really had taken pride in training young Sinafay in the ways of the Light, helping to nurture and cultivate her talents into a beacon of strength for their people. Such a waste…

His heavy hand banged against the wooden door - so fragile, he worried it might break if he hit it too hard. Still, the firm knocks echoed through the farmstead, as the Vindicator made his presence known.

“Sinafay!” he called out. “Sinafay the Defiant!”

It didn’t take very long for the door to open, revealing a very angry looking Draenei, brows knit into a scowl. She’d done a great job at losing the baby weight, already a good way back to her Vindicator fitness level. She wore a lovely, yet simple robe, ideal for a busy mother, yet accentuated her natural curves and showed off her Light bound tattoos. 

“Argonas,” she scolded, “Do you mind maybe NOT waking the baby I just put to sleep?!”

She pushed forward to try and shove the Vindicator back, but Argonas was unmovable as always, and in his full armor of course! With a frustrated huff, she moved around him, shutting the door behind her as she began to walk down the hill, tail twitching. Best to do the yelling away from Neelah. She couldn’t imagine what her former mentor was doing here at this time of night.

“What the FUCK are you doing here?!” She growled.

Perhaps it was motherhood, the hormones raging through her. Or perhaps coupling with a filthy Orc for too long had boosted her aggression. Maybe, partly, she was upset to see him again after how he left things with her. There were many likely factors, but no matter what or why, Sinafay was being terribly bitchy. It wasn't the attractive sour attitude he cherished in his departed mate, either; she was just being erratic and grumpy. Terribly unappealing!

He followed her a ways down the hill, stern expression his only real response to her demeanor. He looked her over, a mixture of sorrow and regret overcoming him. Oh how far she'd fallen… even glistening with the Light from her Lightforging did little to make her seem redeemable after such a terrible track her life had followed. It pained him to see his former pupil like this. Such shame he felt, clearly having failed to teach her not to parlay with savage orcs, or aide depraved Death Knights. She was his greatest failure.

"... I am told you sheltered and aided Avehi. Is this true?" Argonas asked, bluntly.

Sinafay raised a brow, turning to look at him as the question was asked. She relaxed a bit, having shaken off the anger now that they were a fair distance away from the house.

“She was here a few months ago; came across the farm by happenstance. Hadn’t seen each other for a while, so we caught up. Went on her way after that.”

Sinafay crosses her arms over her chest. Why was Argonas looking for Avehi? She thought back on her conversation with the Death Knight, frowning. She finally took a moment to look the Vindicator over; those dark circles under his eyes… and something looked off in that luminous gaze of his. Something she’d missed in her earlier frustration.

“If that’s what you mean by ‘sheltered and aided’, then yeah, I guess I did. Why?”

“She has dragged you into her terrible misdeeds.” Argonas elaborated, albeit vaguely. “Avehi has been raising the dead for nefarious purposes. If you are a friend to her, she will likely come here to seek shelter again. To hide from the Light’s justice.”

His eyes narrowed, as he reached back to draw his crystalline blade.

“This, I cannot allow.”

Sinafay didn’t wait a moment longer to see where the conversation was leading. She’d seen this exact situation play out too many times, on Draenor, to those suspected of aiding the Mag’har under Yrel’s reign.

She wasn’t about to allow him to use that blade. While she’d taken on a more domestic role over the past months, she’d kept her senses sharp. Having an Orc mate who enjoyed a good spar helped quite a bit.

Her eyes flared, hands slamming into the large Vindicator’s chest with a powerful blast of Holy Light to push him back before taking on a defensive position.

“I suppose I was right to not have trusted you after all.”

It hurt to have her suspicions realized. To know that her mentor was as blinded as the people she’d left behind on her world. She felt justified, in a way, the guilt of hiding her relationship with Grakkar from him washing away.

“Leave us be, Argonas,” she warned, baring her teeth, “This is your only warning.”

The Vindicator’s hooves scraped along the ground, slowing him from skidding too far back. He grunted, frowning deeper at Sinafay. He expected resistance, of course. He’d trained her well enough not to take a death threat lying down!

“Do you think I want to do this? I thought I had taught you better! But you have fallen so far from the path I laid out for you!” he growled, plated fist tightening around the hilt of his blade. “You failed! You abandoned your post! You betrayed our kin on Draenor, breaking your vow to protect them! And for an Orc!?”

“Hmph. Consider it my highest honor.” Sinafay shot back, defiantly.

Argonas grunted. He rushed in, hoofsteps hastened by the Light itself in a furious charge. He swung his sword in a wide arc towards Sinafay. Sinafay shot forward as he charged. She didn’t have a weapon or armor, but knew agility wasn’t Argonas’ strong suit, and planned to use that to her advantage. She rolled as he swung, just passed his right leg to end up behind him, her tail wrapped around his ankle, tugging it back with her momentum as she got to her hooves. 

She didn’t turn back to look if he’d fallen forward or not as she kept running; hoping she’d bought herself a bit of time as she headed towards Grakkar’s workshop. She knew there would be a weapon or something there she could use to defend herself with. The Lightbound could hear nothing but her rapid heartbeat as adrenaline rushed through her system, making it impossible to know if he was right behind her or not.

Suddenly, a bolt of Light struck her shoulder, knocking her off balance just as she reached the workshop. She stumbled and fell into the door, crashing through it! The heavy hoofbeats of Argonas closed in, making up what distance the tripping attack bought had cost him.

“And now, you abide by such abhorrence as Avehi raising the dead! Our own people, enthralled by her necrotic powers!” he continued to charge Sinafay, shouting aggressively. “I know not what set you on such a depraved path after we parted, Sina. But it has led to this final judgment! The Light will not tolerate your abusing its blessing to supplement death and pain to its chosen people!”

He brought his blade up for an overhead swing, cutting straight down vertically!

Sinafay barely had time to cocoon herself within a barrier of Light. Argonas’ sword crashed into it, causing sparks to fly and crackle in a near blinding light show as the holy forces fought against each other. The Lightbound woman grit her teeth as the barrier cracked under the pressure of the Vindicator’s strength. She was out of practice, and her former mentor’s conviction was too strong. She knew she was only delaying the inevitable, but she would fight to the bitter end.

And that end grew closer as the barrier shattered. She tried to roll to the side but the blade found purchase in her side, forcing a cry out of her as blue blood oozed out of the wound. She reached out, hands grabbing the Vindicator’s wrists as her hooves kicked out at his face in a final act of defiance.

Argonas stumbled back, but not far. Swift and firm as the kick was, there was an insurmountable difference in stature between the two Vindicators. His face immediately began to swell up at the impact point of Sinafay’s hoof, but that only seemed to infuriate him more. The grinding of his plate gauntlet along the hilt of his crystalline blade rang out sharply as he shifted his grip. He took the sword in his hands, and lined up the piercing point with his former pupil’s chest.

“Through me, the Light’s justice will be served! The mistakes I made in judging the true measures of your character will at long last be corrected!”

He raised his blade, eyes narrowing as he started to bring it down to finish his grim task-- when suddenly a pair of arms wrapped tensely around his waist! From behind him, Grakkar took hold of the Vindicator and heaved him upward and over himself with a mighty roar! The Draenei was caught off-guard, and thrown over onto his back as Grakkar arched and kicked back and away from Sinafay. Argonas came crashing down on his shoulders and the back of his head, driving his chin into his chest plate as the rest of his heavy plated body rolled over the top of him! He was stunned! The wind knocked from him entirely as Grakkar threw him back!

“Get away from my mate, you honorless piece of clefthoof shit!” the Warsong shouted, snarling at Argonas.

He gave little time for the abettor to recover, rushing in to keep up the pressure. As Argonas rolled over and brought himself up to his hands and knees, Grakkar ran up and took hold of his head. Lining it up, he carried his momentum and slammed his knee into the Draenei’s crest! 

*CRACK* 

Argonas rolled over from both the pain, and the force of the impact to his face! But the assault didn’t end there. Grakkar trudged up alongside the writhing and bewildered Draenei. He knelt down scooping up a small handful of dirt to toss into the Vindicator’s face! Then, he just started punching! Once, again, three times! He bloodied his fist against the Draenei’s plated crest, pounding his face over and over with unyielding fury! 

Argonas did what he could to protect himself, but he couldn’t see his assaulter, much less block the barrage of punches! He’d dropped his sword, and couldn’t afford to reach out and feel for it nearby. That would only give the Orc more openings! Instead, he curled in, doing his best to cover his face with one arm as he swatted at Grakkar blindly with the other in hopes of deflecting or softening the next blow coming his way. One wild swipe caught hold of something - the Orc’s forearm. Success! With all his might, he ripped the Orc’s arm towards him, counter attacking with a punch of his own. He felt his plated fist connect, knocking the Orc back and away from him. Only for a moment… but the moment was all he needed.

Bringing his hooves back beneath him, Argonas stood up and quickly brushed the dirt and blood from his face. His luminous eyes set onto Grakkar, who also recuperated from their exchange of blows. For a moment, the two stared one another down.

“The Light… judges you too, Orc filth!” Argonas grunted.

“Fuck your Light!” Grakkar shot back, snarling.

With a furious shout, the Orc rushed at Argonas yet again. The Draenei took up a defensive stance, readying himself as Grakkar drew near. He knew he couldn’t match the Orc’s agility; their fight in Kun-Lai had taught him that, well enough. Instead he dug in his hooves, tail swaying limber behind him to keep his balance. As the Orc took his swing, Argonas brought his forearms up to block the incoming blow. Then the next. Teeth grit as he held firm his position, Argonas bided the Orc’s assault like a statue! He was ready for him, this time. Ready and waiting for his opening. His hands and arms felt raw, jarred and pulsing from the plate gauntlets reverberating each repeated strike. But he held his ground.

Grakkar raged on, throwing punch after punch in the hopes of landing one or two good blows, enough to throw his opponent off of the defensive. But the Vindicator was stoic! Unyielding! The old Orc already felt fatigue setting in. How long had it been since he had a good fight like this? Since settling down with Sinafay, and their young daughter Neelah, he hadn’t been in too many scrapes. His rustiness was taxing him now, exacting the toll of his inactivity. His blows began to slow, punches falling slower and softer against the same blood-smeared plate gloves the Draenei used to defend himself. His knuckles were pulp, each screaming a searing pain from crashing into the inexorable metal again and again. He rotated in a kick to mix it up, hoping to knock the Draenei over, but he might as well have kicked a boulder. One more punch. Another. Until finally the futility of it drained Grakkar entirely. He staggered back, growling.

And that was Argonas’ opening.

The blast of Light illuminated the farmstead, bright as high noon for only a split second. Argonas’ retributive burst was more than enough to knock the weary Orc over. The Vindicator charged, hoofbeats hastened by the Light’s gift to surge the mass of muscle and steel towards Grakkar. He’d barely managed to keep his balance, only for Argonas to slam into him like a rampaging elekk. The Orc felt his body tossed back, and yet he didn’t go far. Argonas gripped him tightly to keep him from sailing too far away from the impact, instead simply slamming him into the ground before him. The Orc’s pained howl was a symphony to the Vindicator. Retribution for so much pain that not only this Orc caused him personally, but all Orcs caused his people! Quickly, he followed up by stomping his hoof into the vile creature’s chest! Still surging with the Light, his plated hoof shoe seared into Grakkar’s flesh, causing him to writhe and moan in pain!

“You have caused enough trouble!” Argonas declared, pressing his hoof down harder. “And now, you will cause no more!”

Grakkar struggled, gripping the Draenei’s leg as he gave all his might to try and push back, but not only did the Draenei significantly outmatch his strength, his plated form weighed a ton! It took all the Orc’s might just to keep the hoof at bay! Even then, he felt his ribs bending and cracking, the hoof melting his skin. It became hard to breath, his cries of agony turning to harsh and hoarse gasps as Argonas pressed harder. He’d been in enough fights to know when he’d lost. And this… this was it. This was the end. 

His eyes widened at the realization, his expression of anger and rage replaced by one of fear. Despair. He had failed. He couldn’t protect his mate. His daughter. After everything he’d done, all the effort and sacrifice he’d made to protect Sinafay, to free her from bondage on Draenor… only for her to die here at the hands of another Light-crazed zealot. He strained a little harder, but nothing he could do would be enough to overpower Argonas. But he couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t! He turned his head, looking over towards the workshop where Sinafay was. He couldn’t see her… and that hurt all the more, unable to lay eyes on his mate one final time. His strength began to wane.

“I’m… sorry…” Grakkar grunted, as his grip finally slipped.

*CRUNCH*

~*~

TO BE CONTINUED...

[curioussubjects]

come be a season 12 truther, baby, with me

In honor of tonight’s Berens/Glynn episode (!!!!), I’d like to take y’all on a magical journey in which I share why I think Dean and Cas got together in season 12. 

Keep in mind that this post takes for granted that Dean and Cas are in love with each other and that their relationship has been increasingly coded as romantic with each passing season. Consequently, what this post does is point out some key moments in their relationship and argue why they don't get together before 12. I'll also go briefly over 13 and 14 for reasons I'll explain later in the post. First, though, let me go over seasons 4 through 11, with some pit stops along the way:

Seasons 4 & 5: this isn’t the destiel you are looking for. the ust is delicious, yes, and i, too, got sucked in posthaste immediately groped by an angel lj community style. At this point Cas is still too alien for anything beyond the development we see on screen happen. HOWEVER, season 5 is the first time we get to see Cas being human (The End) and Cas being less connected to heaven and how that affects his behavior. This will matter. 

Seasons 6 & 7: the pining omg the pining. The notable things I want to point out with these seasons is a. this is the beginning of Cas doing things to spare Dean and it not ending well (Cas dies #1, soulless!Sam); b. Dean is v. sad; and c. we also start noticing the emotional toll of Cas’s divided loyalties and how human he has actually become since s4. Hurty feels all around.  

Season 8: purgaytory babes aw yeah! Still lots of terrible awful pining. This is a turning point with the addition of the bunker as tfw hq: we have a home in play now, a static emotional center. Cas is still off doing his own thing, Dean still wishes Cas would just let him (+ Sam) help out. Cas going off on his own leads to disaster #2 (Angels fall, Cas loses his Grace). For all deliciously angsty get together purgatory fics and spec, there’s too much of a gap between Dean and Cas on Cas’s part due to his guilt over betraying the Winchesters in s6 & slaughtering angels & leviathan. On the other hand, we do see Dean being more emotionally open, but to no avail. Bad timing. This is a trend. [oop also worth noting we get Dean being kinda done with the one night stand thing because always with the adios and ahem also hint hint Cas refusing to stay put]

Seasons 9 & 10: aka Dean and Cas make bad decisions, but mostly Dean. The biggest turning point here is Cas being human for an extended period of time. There is still plenty of spec over the effects of being human on Cas’s Grace and his Soul. What we can say for sure, though, is that Cas is much more human once he becomes an angel again. In contrast to s8, s9 sees Cas being vulnerable and Dean pushing him away (first because of Gadreel, which he didn’t want to do really and that’s even sadder kdjfgksdfj & later because he was pushing everyone away due to the mark).  

9.06 Heaven Can’t Wait: there’s been so much amazing fic and spec about this episode with its fanfiction gap, but I can’t see a deancas get together here, folks. I know, it’s terrible. The lying from Dean and the hurt from Cas, imo, make the distance between them quite insurmountable at this point. While the episode is amazing (Bobo’s debut, too! So ♥) and has some notorious subtext throughout, I just can’t see the character bridging that gap into anything physical, much less emotional. Nevertheless, this episode does show perhaps the first intentional romantic tableaux with Dean and Cas, and that’s not nothing. 

10.16 Paint it Black: from the point Dean gets the mark of cain until the end of season 10, anything between him and Cas is quite impossible. But one of the reasons I’m bringing up this episode in particular is because of the confession scene. For one, it’s a rare bit of emotional honesty from Dean and for two, it tells me that while he and Cas may be well aware of the thing between them, it’s still uncharted waters. Makes sense, too, there���s been A LOT going on since s6.  Anyway, he’s the full confession, so we can put a pin on it:

You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it. [...]  Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time. [...]  Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought.

Do you ever see a character having an epiphany and find yourself wanting to cry because this is it right here. Dean is just blatantly admitting he wants more, which all culminates in season 11, so...

Season 11: The pining is still here, but it’s worse now since it’s the whole plot? It’s been *checks calendar* 5 years of this. How are any of us still kicking I don’t know. Your slow burns could never. Cool worth noting points: Cas says yes to Luci (bad decision #2.5, lots of mitigating effects_I don’t actually hold it against him that much but Dean is another story & not entirely rational at this point); for the first time since the early days, Dean and Cas are on equal grounds: they’ve both fucked up a lot and have hurt each other. The issues this season are outside their dynamic. Amara and Lucifer here serve as externalizing forces for Dean and Cas’s problems and by the end of the season we’re getting a clean slate. We’re also getting a new showrunner, so. No wonder. What this season does that is also super important is that it sets up the stage for the possibility of an actual relationship between Dean and Cas, something that has, up until this point, been pretty much impossible. 

11.04 Baby: Y’all know what I’m about to quote here, right? The convo between Dean and Sam about having something with someone who understands the life. Here we still have Dean reverting to the idea that it’s impossible, which is a direct contrast to the openness in 10.16. It’s understandable, though, considering there’s been little reason to think anything like that would be possible (see all the mess and poor timing from seasons past). The quote in question, though, marks a continuing development in on of the things Dean is struggling with this season:

DEAN: Piper? That's awesome. Heather. One-night wonders, man. Shoot, we're lucky we still get that at all.  SAM: Really? You don't . . . Ever want something more? DEAN: I'm sorry, have you met us? We're batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs. SAM: You don't ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But . . . Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

Compare this exchange with what we get from 11.11 and 11.19:

11.11 Into the Mystic: I’m bringing this episode as a crossreference to 10.16 and to show again that for all the closeness between Dean and Cas there’s still a marked distance they haven’t yet bridged. Thanks Mildred for the delicious exposition:

Darlin'...If there's one thing I've learned in all my years on the road, it's when somebody's pining for somebody else. [...]  Oh, don't try and hide it now. Follow your heart. Remember?

11.19 The Chitters: Continuing our trek regarding Dean wanting certain things we have this gift of an episode with Jesse and Cesar, and this exchange:

Dean: [with realization] Oh, so … [points back and forth to Jesse and Cesar] Cesar: Yeah. Dean: Okay, that’s… Cesar puts his beer bottle on the table and looks at Dean, while Jesse is being silent. Dean: What’s it like, settling down with a hunter? Cesar: Smelly, dirty. [turns to Jesse] Twice the worrying about getting ganked.

I’d like to point out, too that the fear of getting ganked is thematic when it comes to the tension between Dean and Cas. More on this when we hit s13. 

Alright, now having said that, let’s take a look at season 12. Bear in mind, this is the official start of Dabb’s era, even if he kinda began taking over in 11, and the change in vibes is obvious. In fact, 12 jumped out at me as a turning point in retrospect, after getting smacked by the domesticity of 13 and 14. Under the cut because I can’t shut up, and things are long enough as is. 

Season 12:  Finally, the promise land, y’all. So, what s11 was for Dean in terms of setting up the relationship stage, s12 was for Cas. In its initial beats, any way. Important to keep in mind that until the Kelly debacle, this was the longest Cas has been around the bunker. Things seem remarkably chill. Of course, we’ll notice that there’s still a lot of baggage hanging around because despite Dean and Cas being in a more stable place, they haven’t actually dealt with their interpersonal problems. I didn’t single out directly this episode, but do keep in mind Cas’s declaration in 12.09 First Blood as far as how much the Winchesters matter to Cas & how we also see Dean and Cas be particularly singled out with them seating together in the backseat of the Impala. 

12.10 Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets: This episode, oh my god, the goodness. In the wake of 12.09 we have Dean and Cas in a tiff because Cas mistake #3 (killing Billie and “cosmic consequences”), this is a pattern. Twice the worry of getting ganked, etc etc. But where this episode really shines is through the contrast between Ishim’s obsession with Lily and Cas & Dean’s mutual affection for each other. Ishim sees no difference here and, to him, Cas’s feelings for Dean are a human weakness. Returning to my point about human!Cas, this episode underscores that Cas’s increasing humanity is what puts him in the place where he can want what Dean wants instead of either being too alien to get it (see s4 & 5) or unable to experience it properly (Ishim). 

12.12 Stuck in the Middle (With You): Cas’s trajectory culminates here with the whole I love you (@ Dean), I love all of you (@ Winchesters). Let’s note too that Cas is dying here, in a way that is much more human than going up in light. This declaration of different types of love is entirely human. It’s also a definitive step wrt to Cas and Dean’s relationship because of what happens in 12.19. This. is. it.

Offscreen happenings: Mixtape, how Cas knows the Colt is under Dean’s pillow. This is hella suspicious. 

12.19 The Future: This episode changes everything, y’all (bobo and meredith, folks, bobo and meredith ksjdhfakjshlfksd). Consider watching this episode again and pay attention to some weird things: 1. Dean’s reaction to Cas going awol. Compare it to Sam’s, who is like whoa Dean chill. Now, thought experiment, imagine something happened between Dean and Cas, and then just radio silence from Cas. Imagine how Dean would react with getting ghosted by Cas specifically after something happened between them.  2. Cas comes back to the bunker with the specific goal of stealing the Colt, which he already knew was under Dean’s pillow -- something Sam didn’t even know.  3. “He came into my room and he played me.” So, this quote right there, makes it seem like some seduction for personal gain, right? But Cas clearly knew where the Colt was already, which means something happened before  Cas came back to the bunker. Cas played Dean in seeming to have reconsidered not working with Sam and Dean wrt Kelly. This is still a point of drama, but it leads somewhere else (see s13 & s15). 4. WHEN DID DEAN GIVE CAS THAT MIXTAPE OMG 5. Dean and Cas’s brief convo in Dean’s room is clearly Dean just wanting Cas to stay, so they can work (and be) together -- because they’re better that way. Which, yeah, truth. 

Sequence of events: Cas tells Dean he loves him -- Dean is clearly shook by it -- Dean gives Cas a mixtape (romantic gesture, often a declaration of feelings; in true Dean speak too lolsobs) -- Cas somehow knows the Colt is under Dean’s pillow -- ???? -- Cas goes awol -- Dean acts like he got ghosted by his partner.

Like. Y’all realize they probably had some emotionally constipated getting together moment, right? Something that Dean clearly initially thought meant things were gonna change, now. Something that Cas couldn’t allow to happen until he could give Dean a win. Y’all are seeing this, yeah? I’m not saying they slept together and were full of feelings, except that’s kind of what I’m saying. But ymmv, there are other possibilities beyond sex. The full of feelings isn’t up for debate, though, even if the whole thing is informed by ridiculous amounts of miscommunication. 

Ok, maybe the narrative is still too subtle (?????), but as I said before, looking at 12 with the knowledge of 13 and 14 does offer a new perspective because of the difference in dynamic between Dean and Cas. I know lots of people look at 14, mainly, as having dialed back on the destiel side of things, but I always thought that was a strange take. Largely because they’re so domestic and their dynamic, ie, the lack of tension, reads like an established relationship. It’s a different kind of beast than we have been used to so far, so it does look alien on screen, especially since we “skipped” the conventional getting together cue that would let us change gears. Let’s take a look at 13 and 14, then.

Season 13: Ah, yes, the season of shit gets domestic. The pining? Gone? What? Deancas now reading like an established couple? It’s more likely than you think.

13.1-13.5: Dean’s grief mini-arc. Dude’s acting like a widower. We all know this. I want to gesture towards the reunion moment though with “it’s never too late to start all over again.” To. Start. All. Over. Again. I’m just saying. 

13.6 Tombstone: hi this episode is pure love and Dean is so happy his sweetheart is back from the dead? He’s even ok being Jack’s third dad now? What a time to be alive. Also? apparently Dean and Cas were just having movie night together? Dates? Mutual Pining dates prior to shit going to hell in 12? Do you ever cry? What else are they getting up to offscreen? What else will they get up to off screen? MUCH TO THINK ABOUT. 

Season 14: MORE DOMESTICITY. With some pining because Michael. But...heart eyes when Dean comes back? Watch that scene again with Dean going off to shower. Suspicious. But then shit hits the fan and we’re all sad again. boo. 

14.15 Peace of Mind: Look me in the eye and tell me Dean and Cas talking in the kitchen about Jack doesn’t read like husbands talking about their child. Look me in the eye and tell me Cas just texting Dean to gossip about Sam isn’t coupley asf. 

14.18-14.20: Ah, yes, the divorce arc. Awful. Terrible. The culmination of Dean’s problem in all this: he lashes out, he pushes Cas away, his anger is alienating. Cue all of us suffering. But while Dean is clearly in the wrong in how the deals with his feelings, let’s not pretend some of his anger doesn’t come from a long established issue between him and Cas, which had its last traumatic turn when Cas died in s12. Dean isn’t being rational here; he saw Cas doing something on his own, and he saw that his mother is dead. What else could happen? Why won’t Cas just trust they can work as a team? Divorce arc was entirely too literal. 

But what about what we’re building up in 15? That seems like it could be a getting together plot, too, right? Well, yeah. It could very well be. But I’d argue the tension we’re seeing isn’t a will they or won’t they because they already have. The tension is instead will they or won’t they use their words to talk about the baggage that has kept them from truly being confident about their relationship. There’s a crucial step in their togetherness that they’re still missing, which is also the bedrock of the divorce arc that spanned TWELVE FRIGGIN’ EPISODES. Y’all. Y’all that’s half a season. And we’re not even entirely done with it yet because Dean was cut short in purgatory, and they haven’t dealt with Cas’s side of blame in this mess yet either -- that Cas keeps going off on his own and getting hurt (and getting other people hurt), and Dean has to deal with the fallout. The deep emotional understanding, the truly being on the same page is what we’re on the edge of our seats for. And, you know, that’s a whole lot more exciting than witnessing their for realsies first kiss. I’m also confident Dabb & co will deliver the conclusion to this emotional arc and it will be a whole mess of feelings on all our parts. 

For the moment, though, it’s looking a lot like Dean and Cas had a rocky start to their ~involvement, then DEATH, then they got together feat. sweet sweet domestic fluff, then DIVORCE. So, yeah. Season 12, guys; it’s where it’s at. 

As for the more performative aspect of Dean and Cas’s relationship…that’s a whole other thing and all I can say is they got the green light for something, but I don’t know what it is and it’s driving me bananas, but it’s definitely something and we can talk about that, too. Place your bets, etc.  I’m clowning on the “I love you” pay off because it’s a glaring missing piece in this whole story. See also: holding hands? Carving Cas’s initials on the table? Saileen endgame parallels? All supported by the narrative. Like a lot. So. *finger guns*

[arigatouiris]

daughter of artemis // p.p — [11]

c h a p t e r  e l e v e n

Pairing: Peter Parker x Demigod! Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; greek mythology rewritten [completely my interpretation of it, oops]; slightly based off the games god of war and assassin’s creed odyssey; hurt/comfort; cliche; fluff [on later chapters sometimes]; mentions of sex and gore; slight alternate universe

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Author’s Note: SO MUCH HAPPENS OMG. And I realize that the tagging isn’t working, so I’m going to try and manually tag everyone and let’s hope it works this time! Tell me what you think about this chapter, everyone~

Word count: 4870

11 // μητέρα mother 

❅

It was not too unusual anymore for Tony to fall asleep early on a Saturday night. Sleep came rarely to him, and Pepper knew this, and every time it did, Tony gave up fighting it. He embraced it, in fact, and was more than happy to indulge. It was somewhere close to 3 a.m., that night, when Tony dreamt of her.

He was quite positive that she was the reason he was still alive. Unlike most people who were alive, Tony felt that he was perhaps one of the only ones who knew what death felt like. Death was cold, unwelcoming, and a narrow road with bumps and a lack of light. There was no structure, no symbols, no path that made sense to him; it was as if he was suddenly getting lost, with no one around him where he can ask directions. A fear that was unusual began to settle inside him, a fear of never finding your way back to wherever you came from.

But, after what felt like a while, he saw the field and the gate. This moment came right after the snap, right after he had put on the gauntlet, embracing death in its fullness. But, while he thought he was heading to where death was leading him, he met someone at the crossroads. Her.

She had kept him warm with the way she laughed. Tony remembered no one else when he was there, but her smile was familiar. He blinked and watched her, as she stood below the massive gate; she was a teenager, wearing a black jacket and her hair as wild as he had ever imagined hair could be. He walked over to her, wondering if she was the answer to everything he had lost, wondering if she would guide him to where he needed to go. Her back was facing him, but Tony was determined to not let death take him away yet.

He heard her laugh, and his heart filled with an inexplicable joy. Tears filled his eyes as he approached this girl, her name and face is still a mystery to him.

Whenever Tony dreamt of her—someone he had not even mentioned to Pepper about, someone he thought wasn’t even real, might have been a mere illusion and that death played tricks on you while taking you to nowhere, he felt at ease. But, whenever he dreamt of her, he never saw her face.

Until that night. 

Tony placed a loving hand on her shoulder and turned her around and her eyes shone at him. She smiled at him, her eyes narrowing at the corner, (e/c) staring at his brown eyes.

A moment later, as if almost having drowned, Tony Stark woke up with a start. Pepper immediately held him, wondering if it was another nightmare. Tony was hyperventilating now, breathing heavily, unable to calm down. He could feel his heart beat rapidly against his chest, almost as if it was going to die down soon. There was pain now, but he couldn’t tell where it came from. Pepper was worried, beyond worried, and was considering calling the ambulance, but Tony calmed a moment later, slowly, but surely.

    “It’s her,” He managed to say, staring at the space in front of him with wide eyes, “That girl, it’s her. It’s her face I saw—”

He took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his face. Pepper shushed him and held him in her arms, trying desperately to have him calm down so that he could explain what was bothering him; whatever was making him this way.

Tony turned to his wife and blinked, “After I snapped, I saw someone. A girl. I couldn’t see her face till now but I did. It’s her, Pep.”

He couldn’t understand the insurmountable amount of guilt he felt inside him when he thought of her. Her name was (y/n), that was what Natasha told him. He shut his eyes and breathed some more, feeling his senses return to equilibrium. Pepper was right there, and when she gasped, he understood that she understood.

    “That’s why she…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

    “She knows it’s me.” Tony concluded, feeling the guilt only grow.

This was worse, much worse than a bad case of 3 a.m., guilt. Guilt is normally not a response to anger or hate, it’s more of a response to a lack of action. Tony could have met her, could have listened to Natasha and gone to see her, and his hesitation paved way for the guilt he was feeling right then. He was suddenly thinking about how she must have been alone for five years during the decimation period, of how she was trained by Natasha for a threat he knew nothing about, of how, having been saved by her, he did nothing in return.

Whether it was merely an illusion or not, Tony Stark knew he owed his life to this girl. Whether she was his daughter or not, there was guilt that forced him to now suck it up and find out.

    “We have to tell Nat.” Pepper said, her voice low.

Tony nodded, because what else could he do? Of all the times he had felt helpless in the past, he couldn’t compare to how it felt right then. He could picture her shocked face that day when she had come home, of how she tried to hide her face from him; and each time he pictured it, Tony’ heart broke a little, and only a little, because it was breaking everywhere else for so many other things.

Natasha, the next day, didn’t ask Tony how he figured it out. She hated delivering bad news to them, but she had to tell them both that (y/n) wanted nothing to do with them. She couldn’t understand Tony’s reaction to it, his face had turned to stone, but Pepper looked concerned.

    “I want to see her, Nat. Is there anyway—”

    “One of those things attacked me and took me hostage,” Nat said, looking at Tony and Pepper both. “It masqueraded as a normal person and pretended to be in trouble or something and I fell for the trap. She came in with Spiderman,” Tony alerted, “And killed that thing.”

Natasha sighed for the next bit. She hadn’t exactly promised the girl she wouldn’t tell Tony what she had told her, but what was more worrying was how Natasha was going to convince Tony that he slept with a Goddess.

    “What are those things?” Pepper asked, confused.

    “I have all the answers, Pepper, but…” Nat looked at Tony questioningly. “You’ll want to calm down for all of this. You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you.”

Tony scoffed, “I snapped my fingers and almost died, so tell me anything and I can—”

    “(y/n) is a demigod born to you and the Greek Goddess, Artemis.” Natasha said, deadpanning.

What followed was uncomfortable silence. Tony blinked a couple of times at Natasha but didn’t dare look at Pepper, who was wide eyed and confused with whatever was just spewed.

    “What?!” Pepper exclaimed, Natasha sighed and nodded.

    “Aria and Alec are gods. Apollo and Artemis, sun and moon. Pepper, you told me Alec was so good looking it was as if he was a  Greek God, but well, guess what? He is.”

When neither of them responded, Natasha merely continued, “There’s this weird prophecy that told her that the world will go to sleep or something for five years, and after that she’ll kill Zeus’ henchman, a.k.a, the weird people mud monsters that are after her and dethrone Zeus as the King of Olympus.”

    “This is all some crazy joke that her mother came up with.” Tony muttered, not wanting to hear anymore.

    “You would believe this if you saw those creatures. I killed one of those things and it literally turned into some red hot mud shit.” Natasha said, narrowing her eyes.

    “So you trained her?” Pepper asked.

    “Yes, I did, but this was before I knew about all of this. Hell, I knew about this just yesterday. What’s worse, if she does manage to kill these things and go back to Zeus, completing her prophecy, she becomes a god.”

    “Then why was she trying to find me? You said she was trying to find me.”

Natasha nodded, “She was… But, she’s not the 13-year old girl I trained back then. She’s an 18-year old fighter with a bad ambition. She’s changed. All she cares about now is killing those things and getting the fuck out of here. In a strange way, I feel terrible for her. But, this is who she’s become.”

    “Nat,” Natasha looked at Pepper. “Tell me where she lives.”

    “I just told you—”

    “Nat, she’s an 18-year old child with no one to tell her that things are okay. I can’t imagine how lonely she must be feeling! She lost her mother, came here looking for her father, and got thrown into something that she thinks she has no choice but to complete. Is no one else seeing this?” Pepper snapped, frowning. “So, tell me where she lives or I swear to God I will go looking for her myself.”

❅

There was a reason why Artemis whispered only Pepper’s names to the trees and the birds. Artemis and Pepper were not friends, merely acquaintances, but something was communicated that day, which made all the difference. Pepper’s nurturing personality didn’t come out of nowhere, she was always nurturing and kind; however, if it weren’t for something Artemis had said, she would have given up with Tony long ago.

You are kind and that has made you so strong. You accept everything and everyone as your own.

Pepper didn’t understand why her words made so much sense to her until after being told of (y/n)’s predicament. Hearing Natasha say those things triggered something in the blonde woman, something she thought she had forgotten. Standing in front of the girl’s house that Sunday afternoon, Pepper knew what her mother had meant, and there was no doubt in her mind that Aria was indeed a Goddess. Because, if she weren’t a Goddess, there was no way she’d have known this.

When the door opened, (y/n)’s eyes widened instantly, and Pepper smiled warmly at her. It was a smile (y/n) had not been smiled at for years, a smile a mother would give to a child after seeing them past a long, hard day.

    “Can I come inside?” Pepper asked, still smiling.

There was no response from the girl, who merely looked at the woman with cautious eyes. For some reason, (y/n) knew Pepper knew who she was. (y/n) gulped, and prayed she went away without further question. But, she also knew that would not happen.

    “It’s alright, I can stand here and talk too.” Pepper folded her arms and grinned wider, but (y/n) shuffled.

She rushed and let the woman inside and closed the door behind her. Pepper stood at her spot and looked around, feeling everything and taking everything at heart. This was the daughter of the man she loved, a daughter he knew nothing about, a daughter who was devoid of acceptance. Pepper turned to the girl, who had tears in her eyes now, and thought of her mother’s words.

    “I know who you are.”

Again, there was no response from the girl.

    “Why don’t you want to come home?”

    “Home?” (y/n) snapped, frowning. “What home? I’m sorry, but I really don’t know who you are or Mr. Stark for that matter. My mother uttered your name several times as if you were best friends but turns out you’re not, so—”

    “Your mother told me something that made sense to me today.” Pepper said, with a knowing look on her face. (y/n) simply remained quiet.

    “She said that I am kind and that was what made me strong. And that I accept everything and everyone as if they were my own. I think I finally understand what she meant.”

Artemis never admired Pepper for anything other than the fact that she knew that one day, Pepper would accept her daughter when no one else could. Not as a demigod, but as a daughter. It was Pepper’s love and kindness and turned Tony Stark into a man with morals, invariably turning him into a man who saved the universe. 

It was all Pepper.

And Artemis knew this, as she had known several other things, as mysteriously as God worked sometimes. Walking to the girl, Pepper held her in her hands and hugged her, which caused (y/n) to feel a rush she hadn’t felt in years.

By hugging her, Pepper had accepted her. And this was Pepper’s purpose in the girl’s vision. And maybe, this was why Artemis wanted (y/n) to meet Pepper first. As Artemis was the mother of a demigod, Pepper was the mother of a human being.

(y/n) hugged her back and cried, almost as if her mother was back, holding her. Pepper’s aura was welcoming, and her mind wasn’t blank. It didn’t matter to her that (y/n) was a product of her husband’s frivolous nature, all that mattered was this girl had been alone for so long, devoid of love and acceptance, and that it was imperative that she held her and let her know that things were alright.

❅

That evening, (y/n) waited for Peter. She saw him against the roof of another taller building and waved first, before he landed in front of her and took off his mask. For some reason, as if it was almost natural, he hugged her—and this was without thinking. (y/n)’s eyes went wide and she took a second to hug him back, but Peter felt this. He pulled away immediately and cleared his throat before apologizing softly.

(y/n) chuckled before shaking her head. Peter smiled awkwardly at her, and the two stood there, not exchanging words but exchanging awkwardness and uncomfortable silence.

    “I met Pepper,” (y/n) said, brightly, gesturing her hands as if saying viola. “Uh, so she came home. She knows now. I don’t know how, but she does.”

Peter nodded, “It’s so weird that you’re Mr. Stark’s daughter.”

(y/n) scrunched her eyebrows, “Why is it weird?”

Peter turned to her with wide eyes, “It’s Mr. Stark!”

(y/n) chuckled, “Okay. Fanboy.”

The two of them plopped on the edge of the roof and sat beside one another.

    “You should live with them, (y/n)...” Peter let out, looking ahead.

    “No,” (y/n) shook her head, feeling a tad bit annoyed. “I have to do this. My mother wanted me to do this.” (y/n) said, narrowing her eyes.

    “Maybe… Your mother didn’t?”

(y/n) didn’t meet Peter’s gaze.

    “Maybe your mother wanted you to find Pepper—”

    “She never told me about Pepper herself. I overheard her each time.”

Peter gulped and remained quiet. Letting out a sigh, (y/n) turned to him and looked at his face. He looked distressed, and she felt terrible for making him feel this way.

“So, five years ago,” (y/n) nodded at Peter. “What was that wound? Was that your grandfather?”

(y/n) shook her head, “One of his henchmen. The strongest one. The Boar. He threw a javelin at me.” Peter winced and released a breath, hearing (y/n) chuckle.

A second later, she took his hand in hers, invariably freezing Peter Parker. His eyes widened and his heart skyrocketed, and he watched her as she played with his fingers. As if an afterthought, Peter thought about how temporary this was, of how she would leave after this was complete. His eyes softened and he spoke without thinking.

    “You can stay here,” With me, he thought but couldn’t say.

    “All my life, I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere. Demigods were looked down upon in Olympus, and as a demigod, I don’t think I can ever live a human life either.”

Strangely, Peter understood her predicament. Ever since becoming Spiderman and losing Uncle Ben, Peter found himself in a situation that couldn’t particularly be understood by those around him. It left him in a spot where he felt lonely at times, as if the world was against him, and of how he didn’t really belong in a regular human life anymore. But, coming from a personal side in his heart, he didn’t want her to leave. He looked at her, as she stared at their connected hands, and Peter tightened his grip. This action caused her to turn and look at him curiously.

Peter smiled a smile that broke her heart, “I’ll support you no matter what.”

(y/n) smiled back and held his hand in hers, and looked down, trying hard to hide the red in her cheeks. They stayed like that for a bit before her thoughts wandered. She was now thinking of the strange woman that she had killed the other day—someone she was sure was a henchman but there were only three as far as she was concerned.

    “What’s up?” Peter asked, blinking at her confused expression.

    “There were supposed to be only three henchmen, actually. I don’t understand where she came from or even what she is.”

    “Maybe we can draw parallels from previous henchmen?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Like, usually when I am on patrol, I try to find patterns to criminal activity. So, if you can link the henchmen to something that can give you a pattern, then maybe it’ll make sense.”

(y/n) nodded before thinking out loud, “Whenever I stabbed them or they get hit with an arrow, they turn into red hot mud.”

Peter nodded and said, “Right, but this woman didn’t. Right?”

    “Yeah, she didn’t. I was confused about it, but the Wolf I fought in the forest didn’t turn to mud either.”

    “What about the others?”

    “They turned to mud.”

    “No, no. I meant, did they reveal any characteristics or differences from each other?”

(y/n) nodded, with her eyes wide, “Yeah! I mean, the first one was the Pigeon, and he was this small kid looking thing that attacked me on a roof? And-and the next one was the Sloth, and he was slow. Like, really slow. After that was the Hyena, and he laughed like one.”

    “So, this one is like the wolf in what way?” Peter asked, not realizing that it was the right question.

(y/n)’s wide eyed expression didn’t go past Peter. Turning to him, she pressed a hand to her mouth and gaped. Peter cocked an eyebrow and waited.

    “Wolves always attack in packs!”

Instantly, she hugged Peter, almost tackling him, earning a chuckle from the boy. He hugged her back, but ignored the thumping of his heart, and his saddened expression. He was helping her move away from him, permanently in more ways than one. She was going to become a God! Peter pulled back and looked at her in the eye, noticing the growing blush on her face.

    “I’ll help you.”

Her first reaction was to say no, but there was something about the way Peter was looking at her that made saying no too difficult. She knew where to go, and sticking with Peter, she was certain that tonight she would get the job done.

After Peter returned from finishing his patrol, it was close to 2 a.m. (y/n) was wide awake, sharpening her arrows, humming a song her mother would hum to her. As Peter entered her room through the window, he narrowed his eyes a bit, recognizing the song.

    “Time After Time?” Peter suggested, causing her to look up with a funny expression.

    “The song you were humming,” Peter continued, (y/n) looked clueless. “I’ll make you listen to it when we come back.”

The girl smiled and nodded. She strapped the arrows to her back, and stood up, ready to go. The two of them swung to the forest near the park, with Peter holding her carefully. She remembered the last time he had swung with her in his arms and remembered how terrified she was. Thinking back, she realized now she found it a bit fun. As soon as they reached, (y/n) noticed the moon, knowing wolves loved to come out in the dark.

Looking ahead, she saw two men, both with sparking green and yellow eyes. Without even thinking twice, (y/n) readied her bow and arrow and shot one, turning him into absolutely nothing. The speed with which she shot the arrow startled Peter, causing him to gasp in surprise.

    “Sorry.” She said, not really meaning it.

She’s so good, he thought before looking at the moon. Then again, her mother is literally the moon so… He gulped before readying himself. A second later, the other man ran inside the forest, with Peter following closely with his webs.

    “I’ll try and catch him with my webs, then you can finish him off.”

(y/n) nodded, right before following after him. She knew that the last time, he had used wolves against her, but now she was clear minded. She knew exactly what to do—and to her benefit, the moon shone brightly above her. She felt at her strongest. Once inside, Peter dropped down, having lost sight of the man. A moment later, she heard a howl and a wolf appeared out of nowhere, fully intending on attacking Peter. (y/n) rushed towards it, pushing Peter aside, and laid her hand out in front of it.

The wolf snarled at her, but she merely looked at it in the eye, her hand still outstretched. Forming a connection with the wolf, (y/n) tamed the animal before howling once in the air. In response, the wolf in front of her howled back, as did the other wolves, who were in hiding.

Peter thought it was a strange orchestra of animals listening to her command; no, she wasn’t commanding them, she was talking to them, communicating in a way that humans never could. He looked at how calm she was, how beautiful she looked under the moonlight, how composed she behaved; he was certain now more than ever that she had a bit of the divine in her, having seen Thor in person, he knew Gods looked somewhat different. They had a feeling of auspiciousness around them, and she carried hers with grace. Peter felt his heart warm at the sight, and couldn’t look away.

    “Find him for me, guys.” She whispered a second later, and there was silence.

A second later, she closed her eyes and grinned. Found him, she thought before running ahead, almost being able to see her target in her mind. A few steps ahead, she saw the henchman, her back facing her, and she paused. She would not make the same mistake she made with the Sloth, she would not be overconfident. Wolves always sensed confidence and fear, making them formidable opponents.

However, they were weak against strong hearted predators. Wolves believed in the Alpha prime, and (y/n) right then, manifested her own.

Jumping in the air, with her dagger firmly held in her right hand, she grabbed the henchman and stabbed her dagger into his neck, his body corroded and turned into the red hot mud that it was supposed to turn. Lightning struck in the sky and clouds formed over her, she knew it was Zeus’ but he appeared through clouds and not himself. Peter was a few feet behind her, feeling a bit useless, but happy he was there to help.

    “You will regret this, demigod,” A voice came from above the skies, shocking Peter and stunning him into a moment of panic. “Stark will not know what is coming for him.”

Suddenly, both their eyes widened in fear. How did he know? She thought in her head multiple times, confused and afraid. Turning to Peter with the same expression, she felt him come to her and hold her; her body was shaking now, she wasn’t ready for this kind of turn of events.

    “Was that—”

    “Zeus.” She rasped, her eyes automatically filling with tears.

❅

Back in school, Peter noticed how jittery she was. In fact, almost everyone did. Even the teachers, but they didn’t comment. She couldn’t relax knowing Zeus knew who her real father was, and would probably attack him or harm him in some way. Tony had saved the whole world, Zeus with it, but the King of the Gods wouldn’t care about any of that.

Her uncle came down to teach and noticed her being the way she was. He knew there was nothing he could say that would calm her down, he knew of what had happened, Peter had filled him in after homeroom; (y/n) was not speaking to him, strangely. She was going down a road he didn’t want her to go, a road where Artemis didn’t want her to set foot on. It broke his heart, but he knew his father. His father was as relentless as her, and whether she liked it or not, she may have gotten that from him.

After school, he walked over to her as she was heading home by herself. Once they were on the roof of her house, he placed a hand on her shoulder and paused, having her turn to him with a tired glance.

    “Uncle—”

    “I can defeat the Boar for you. You should give up on this, (y/n). Forget the prophecy. Live a life with your family—”

    “Are you joking right now?” (y/n) snapped, shutting Apollo’s words.

    “(y/n)—”

    “Zeus threatened to do something to Tony Stark because he got to know somehow that Stark is my father! And you’re asking me to just forget? You know, I should have known you wouldn’t want to help me with this—”

    “I can’t bear to see you—”

    “Tell me this, uncle, how did Zeus know about Tony?”

Apollo’s face hardened. He knew what she would say if he told him it was his fault. Yet, a god could not lie.

    “He overheard me.”

(y/n) scoffed before snapping, “Right. Why am I not surprised? You are Zeus’ son, after all. You could never betray your father.”

Apollo’s eyes widened, (y/n) brushed off his hand from her shoulder.

    “You’ve never loved me, uncle. Let’s talk facts here. You’ve always hated me, ever since I was born. You said it yourself, that my mother’s life would have been better if she never had me. You’re pretending to help me because you feel bad your sister died. That my mother died. You feel bad and you think you can make it up to her by pretending to help me—”

    “You know that’s not true—”

    “I don’t know anything anymore!” (y/n) screamed, tears falling out of her eyes.

Apollo didn’t know what to say. His heart was breaking and he was devoid of words.

    “Because I’m your sister’s daughter and you didn’t want anything to do with me, you feel like being nice to me is now doing a favor to my dead mother!” (y/n)’s words were sharp.

A tear streaked down Apollo’s eyes as he snapped his fingers and vanished. He could not be around her when she was being that venomous, her wrath resembled his own sister’s, but he was the more sensitive of the two. Watching her uncle leave right then caused her to scream more, knowing somehow that he wouldn’t return. She didn’t know why she said those things, and knew it was all a mistake, but her mind couldn’t comprehend it. Every turn she took was a dead-end, everything she did came crashing back.

She sat on the ground a moment later and placed her head between her legs. She breathed, crying often, but mostly breathed, trying to think of what she could do; if anything could help her, if anyone could.

Suddenly, the winds picked up. (y/n) could hear a heavy breeze, and she knew that this sort of breeze would bring rain in. She believed her uncle was feeling low and that was why it was raining, but she didn’t care at that second. Suddenly, the winds got stronger, and hotter, causing her to lift her head up from her legs and stare ahead of her.

She looked up and saw clear skies, but where was the wind coming from? Immediately, without warning, she turned around and saw someone she thought she wouldn’t ever have to see again. In front of her was red armor, but the right hand was not attacked, revealing a bandaged arm from shoulder to wrist. The suit of armor got lower and lower, until it was merely inches from the ground, while she sat on her butt, her arms balancing her behind her, staring at it with wide eyes.

Suddenly, the armor opened, and out came Tony Stark, looking at her right in the eye. 

He dropped on the ground, shook his head a bit and said, “I’m not even supposed to be in this thing, and if Pep finds out, she’s definitely going to destroy it.”

He looked at the girl’s confused and shocked expression and confirmed it, Yep, she’s the one. She’s the girl I saw.

    “Hey, kid.” He said, and stood in front of her.

❅

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[torscrawls]

Medicinal Molduga

Link to Ao3

Link exited the Gerudo palace with his eyes resolutely averted from the giant Divine Beast standing on the mountain in the distance. The last of the four Divine Beasts to be freed from Calamity Ganon’s control.

Now, the beams of light connecting the Divine Beasts to Hyrule Castle and Calamity Ganon could be seen stretching all over the land; indicating with indisputable finality where he had to go next. Of who he had to face next.

But above all else, it was a reminder of his silent promise towards a person he couldn’t remember who was fighting where he himself had failed.

Link hesitantly started making his way down into the city, his mission of “resolving the Gerudo Town people’s problems” to get the Thunder Helm was a welcomed distraction as he tried to file away the fresh memories of Thunderblight Ganon and Urbosa’s achingly unfamiliar friendliness.

Despite the distraction, the mission hung over his head like a reminder of who he had been before his failure— the hero everyone seemed to think he still was. He wasn’t even sure if solving everyone’s individual problems instead of going directly to Calamity Ganon was something he should do, but coming face to face with Urbosa made it hard to turn his back on her people; however temporary.

The sun beamed down from above, pressing in its heat, making Link squint in the harsh light as he slowly took one step at a time, letting his feet carry him through town. He wasn’t completely sure how to go about finding people who could need his help; ever since he had woken up trouble had had an uncanny ability of finding him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of raised voices and Link looked up to see a Gerudo slowly walk away from the guards outside the palace with her face turned down, shoulders lightly shaking. Link hesitated for a moment; who was he to butt into a strangers problems? And besides, he thought with a quick look towards Vah Naboris and the beam of light leading off into the distance, he really did have more pressing matters to attend to. A quiet sob reached his ears.

Link approached the Gerudo and waved in greeting to catch her attention. She looked up at the gesture and quickly wiped at her face with one arm.  “Sav’aaq...”

Link put on what he hoped was a reassuring smile and signed, “I’m Link. What’s your name?”

“My name is Malena.”

Link tilted his head in question. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head and looked down at the ground, voice thick as she answered, “I… I finally found the voe of my dreams, and I just recently married him…”

Her voice caught in her throat and she cleared it before continuing. “I thought I had finally found happiness. But then… then my husband fell ill with a rare disease. A disease that is very difficult to cure.” She looked back up and now the tears in her eyes were overflowing. “The only thing that can save him is the guts of a Molduga, but I would never be able to take down such a creature myself.”

She sent a look over her shoulder at the guards and lowered her voice. “I asked the soldiers for help, but why would they want to help me? The Molduga is a menacing beast and no-one who faces one escapes unscathed. Perhaps it’s foolish to expect anyone to stick their neck out for a stranger…” She trailed off, and Link had a second where he almost regretted approaching her; what could he possibly do when not even the soldiers could help? … Who else would help her if not even the soldiers would?

“Molduga?” Link signed the word hesitantly, asking for clarification.

“The Molduga is a monster,” she said as she turned her attention back to Link, red-rimmed eyes meeting his. “A terror so savage that even other monsters won’t approach it. It’s very sensitive to vibrations and tends to attack anything that draws near. You can’t approach it or even move near it. So, what am I to do…?” She trailed off again, eyes turning distant as she wrung her hands.

Link frowned. He knew he should walk away and focus his attention on Zelda and her impossible mission of defeating Calamity Ganon. He was already trying to justify sacrificing his own life by going up against the reincarnation of all evil for the greater good. How could he be supposed to risk his life to help everyone he came across?

On the other hand; if he can’t even save one person, one person desperate for help, then what kind of hero was he? Taking down Calamity Ganon was an insurmountable goal, something he wasn’t even able to comprehend. This was something he might actually be able to do; a concrete way to help someone. And who was he to place more worth on his own life than someone else’s?

He resolutely pushed away the feelings of guilt that rose up at the thought of leaving Zelda to fight her lonely battle for longer than necessary. In the same way that he couldn’t prioritize himself over a stranger, he couldn’t prioritize her either. He didn’t know Zelda any better than he knew Malena and they both needed help. One simply happened to stand right in front of him.

That was easier to grasp than the whole fate of Hyrule.

“Where is this Molduga?”

She looked surprised for a second before shrugging, her eyes turning sad again. “It’s often spotted west of here, in the Toruma Dunes, and in the south. You can avoid it if you don’t go near those places.”

Link patted her on the arm with a smile. “Wait here. I’ll be back.” He turned towards the closest gate and shielded his eyes from the sun as he took off. Even if it was too late to save everyone, he promised himself that he would do better with the second chance that he had been given.

 -------

 The sun was a constant in his face, almost blinding him as he walked on in the sand. The landscape around him was vast and unchanging; prompting him time and again to look over his shoulder to confirm that Vah Naboris was slowly shrinking in the distance and therefore confirming that he was making any headway at all. After an indefinite amount of time the only thing he was able to make out as he cast a look over his shoulder was the faint glowing line connecting the Divine Beast to Hyrule Castle and its dreaded occupant.

He cursed under his breath as he slipped in the sand for what felt like the hundredth time and he turned his eyes back towards what was in front of him. Sand, sand, sand, and even more sa— He almost slipped again as his eyes fastened on something in the otherwise unending landscape of rolling dunes; something that looked surprisingly solid! He increased his pace and cursed the fact that he hadn’t stopped to rent a Sand Seal before setting out. He took step after step in the loose sand, trying to ignore the way it almost seemed to grab onto his feet and drag him down; not even his sand boots were able to make it effortless. The form he had spotted over the dunes slowly took the shape of stone pillars, and he hoped that they were the Toruma Dunes Malena had been talking about even as he tried not to dwell on just how he was supposed to fight a giant monster in sand that he could barely walk in. The pillars slowly inched closer, shimmering in the heat. He would be there soon. Just another step. And another. And another.

The monotone was suddenly broken by a rumbling sound and Link stopped in the middle of a step. He looked out over the unending expanse of sand and saw nothing worth noting except the pillars right in front of him. Had the sun gotten to his head? He started walking again as he shook his head before taking a hasty sip from his water bottle.

His body was the one thing he had always been able to trust since he woke up, and the thought of it betraying him filled him with cold fear that almost combated the heat of the day. Maybe his attempts to stay cool hadn’t been enough. Maybe he shouldn’t have offered to help with this. Maybe this was Hylia punishing him for shirking his duties. Maybe—

His thoughts were interrupted by the sand to his far left suddenly rising up into a big mound; moving at a fast pace in his direction.

Link froze again.

Was it a hallucination? A sign of his body finally giving up? Link shook his head again in an attempt to clear it. The mound in the sand was still there, but Link noticed that it had started to veer off; moving away from him.

Link took a small step towards the stone pillars and watched in horror as the mound immediately changed direction again; coming straight towards him. Maybe not a hallucination, then.

He took off for the closest stone pillar, wanting to get up and away from whatever was moving in the sand.

Link took a running leap, grunting as he slammed into the stone, and started climbing. He hadn’t even gotten to the top of the pillar when a sudden, deafening, rumble sounded out behind him. Link whipped his head around to look over his shoulder and almost lost his grip on the rock beneath his hands as he tried to take in the sheer size of the creature that had heaved itself out of the ground a couple of meters from him; just where he had been mere seconds ago.

The Molduga broke completely free from the ground and snapped at nothing; its massive jaws closing with a decidedly final sound.

It was all Link could do to hang on to the side of the stone pillar. How in Hylia name was he supposed to fight that? None of the mental images he had conjured of what the Molduga would look like after Malena’s description managed to come close to the real thing. The guards had been right; one person could not be expected to fight a monster like this and he was just a regular person, no matter how much everyone tried to tell him otherwise.

The monster twisted in the air and dove back down; the impact of it hitting the ground shook the very earth even as it dove beneath the sand without much effort.

Link thought of the trail of light leading to Calamity Ganon, the trail of light from his past failures. He had to try.

Link sucked in a deep breath and heaved himself up to the top of the pillar, immediately grabbing for his bow and sending an arrow flying. It hit the Molduga’s tail just as it was disappearing back into the sand. It didn’t seem to faze the creature at all.

He followed the moving sand with his eyes; squinting against the sun. Link’s hand around his bow tightened. Defeating the Molduga was a step towards defeating Calamity Ganon— a step towards becoming the hero people needed.

He considered his options; if he went down into the sand he would be easy prey for the giant monster, but if he stayed up here he couldn’t reach it… Hadn’t Malena said something about the beast being sensitive to vibrations? Link raised his bow and readied a bomb arrow. He knew how to make vibrations.

He aimed at the moving mound and let the arrow fly. It struck true; flinging sand high into the air, but even so there was no sign of the monster. Until there was.

The Molduga roared as it heaved its giant form from the sand once again and blindly snapped at the air. Link didn’t allow himself to hesitate before jumping from the pillar and unfurling his paraglider, keeping his eyes the monster. Its small peering eyes glazed over him where he hung in the air.

Link immediately nocked another bomb arrow and let it fly; desperate for the sightless, soulless, eyes to not find him. He fired off as many as he could before one of them hit the Molduga square in the side and he noticed that the wind had brought him closer to the creature than he had expected—

Too close! The explosion flung him backwards and he landed in the sand with a dull thud. Link rolled to the side and managed to narrowly avoid getting pummeled into the ground; the monsters massive tail thumping down where he had been lying with enough force to produce a small explosion of sand.

He shook himself and scrambled to his feet, but to his relief he saw the Molduga lying still on the sand, the perceived attack with its tail being from when it landed, seemingly stunned. Link hesitated a second before taking a step towards the monster. One step. Then he ran; raising the master sword high and getting ready to strike.

Before Link reached it, however, the Molduga started moving. It raised its tail slightly, before spinning its massive body in a devastating circle; its tail hitting Link square in the chest and sending him flying.

He spat the sand from his mouth and raised his head in time to see the Molduga burrow back down into the sand. He shakily got to his feet and winced at his complaining ribs. That was going to bruise.

Link took as deep a breath as he could before throwing a bomb, watching as it rolled across the ground and the Molduga made a sharp turn straight towards it. Link ran in the opposite direction.

It once again rose up from beneath the sand, swallowing the bomb whole.

Link pressed detonate and the monster roared. Okay, maybe he could fight it like that.

The beast once again landed on top of the sand with a heavy thud.

He reached for another bomb arrow, but found his holster empty. Link cursed internally as he let go of the bow, letting it fall to the sand as he reached for the master sword.

The creature twitched where it lay.

Link didn’t waste any time before running towards it with his sword at the ready, ignoring his aching body. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. If there was something he had learnt since waking up it was that to survive he had to be a fast learner. His earlier mistakes had almost doomed this land, he couldn’t afford to make any more of them.

Link grabbed the master sword with both hands and jumped.

He allowed the force of gravity to aid him as he took a steady hold of the sword and aimed it straight down. He plunged down just as the creature righted itself— if he missed he would have no way of defending himself.

It struck true; piercing the creature right between its eyes. Link jumped backwards, raising his sword in front of him.

The Molduga slumped to the ground with a heavy thud, before rearing up and letting out a terrifying and deafening roar. Link did his best to steady his exhausted arms and prepare for another attack— but the monster simply slumped down on the ground before dissolving into purple smoke.

Left in its place was a treasure chest, fins, and… guts! Link took a step towards the loot and dropped to his knees; his shaking legs not able to support him any longer. He heaved in painful gasps of air as he inched closer to what remained of the massive monster and felt a smile spread over his face. He had done it. He had managed to defeat the monster— he had managed to fulfill one wish.

He scooped up the spoils and got to his feet, and for the first time he didn’t feel dread as his eyes found the beam of light extending from Vah Nabori’s, but hope. Maybe he would actually be able to do this after all.

---------

 The trip back to Gerudo town felt shorter and easier than his trek out, even with the extra materials. Thankfully his healing potion had done wonders on his ribs, and his tired legs seemed to find purchase in the sand as he pushed forward; the dwindling sun shining on his back and casting a long shadow for him to follow. The beam from Vah Naboris almost disappeared in the light of the setting sun. He still knew where it led.

As he entered the town he went straight for the palace. He found Malena by herself, standing close to where the guards trained.

“Sav’aaq...” Malena said as she turned around, her eyes widening slightly in recognition when they landed on Link’s smiling face. “Oh, it’s you.”

Link smiled as he extended his hands. “Here, take’em.”

“Wait, these…” She trailed off, wide eyes looking down at the intestines in Links hands. “Molduga guts!”

She raised her hands as if to grab them before stopping a few centimeters away, looking back up at Link’s face. “You… You’ll really give these to me?”

Link nodded.

“Oh, sarqso!” Malena took the offered Molduga guts with relief written all across her face, a smile breaking through on her face. Link felt something ease inside him. The relief and happiness on her face was right. This was what it meant to really fight back against the evil.

“This is all I have to thank you with.” She extended her hand with a golden rupee in it and Link raised his hands in front of his chest in the beginning of a denial, but she simply pressed the money into his palms and smiled. “I insist you take it.”

Link hesitantly smiled back as he accepted the rupee, closing his hand around her gratitude and relief.  She smiled back and clutched the remnants of the molduga close to her chest; tears brimming in her eyes. “This will save him.”

Link gave her a nod and smile before Malena turned and took off down the street, her arms never letting up on their secure hold. He had managed to save someone, and he was still here to do it again. This must be what it meant to be a hero; to save someone when you had the ability to do so. Link swore then and there that even if his mindset wasn’t always the most heroic he could make sure that his actions were something he could stand behind.

As Link once again set off into the town he didn’t spare the distant beast and its connection to Calamity Ganon another glance. He would do what he could to help and to try and be the hero people counted on, but he would not run from what he had to do. The last rays from the sun warmed his face as he resolutely took one step at a time.

---

This was written as part of the Legend of Zelda: Side Quest Zine. It’s chock-full of talented artists and writers and you can dowload it for free here.

The fic is also up on my Ao3: TorScrawls.

[crimenight-a]

ONE OF THE MOST FAMOUS ATTRIBUTES ASSOCIATED WITH BATMAN is his seemingly uncaring    &    stoic nature.    it’s also one of the generalizations i openly despise;    the more recent batman media has shaped our understanding of his person in the wrong way.    while i agree that he does seem cold at times,    it’s not for the reason most people immediately think.    so,    in this meta,    i’m going to walk you through bruce’s story    &    explain why he is the way he is.

first,    i want to address the general perception concerning his emotional state.    readers/watchers,    alike,    think bruce’s apathetic nature is related to his trauma.    they’re only half right,    for it did indirectly lead him to change his outward expression of self,    but it’s not the direct reason.    even characters in the DC universe comment on bruce’s apparent lack of distress-like emotions:

❝   your ward    &    my daughter are in mortal danger !    indeed,    batman, they may already be dead !   yet you show no signs of agitation–   nor do you exhibit any curiosity concerning my humble self !    have you no feelings ?   ❞                                                                                                                                    -- batman (1940) #232

ra’s al ghul says this upon meeting bruce for the first time    &    enlisting his help in saving his daughter,    talia al ghul.    we see many variations of this repeat with superman,    wonder woman,    green lantern,    the flash,    &   many more.    so,    it’s not only the general public in our world that thinks batman doesn’t feel anything,    that thought process is also preserved in characters from within DC’s universe.    another type of media that’s to blame are the comedic types.    there’s so many cartoons    &    comics that depict a younger bruce to be very stoic    &    cold,    batman’s voice    &    intimidating nature are ridiculed by many heroes   (  i’m looking at you,    mcu tony/peter   ).   i won’t deny that these moments are very funny    (   especially when DC retaliates like in that batman lego movie where batman screams ‘IRON MAN SUCKS!’   ),   but in actuality,    it still adds to this prevailing idea that he really feels nothing.    i won’t lie   &    say i thought differently before i made this blog,    because i didn’t.    much to my surprise,    however,    it only took me a few issues from detective comics/the original batman run to understand that we’ve been wrong all along.

you may now be asking,    ‘if he’s not truly uncaring,    then why does he act like he is ?’    well,    let me point you to this single issue that i wish i could have every one of these new writers that dc hires read,    it’s detective comics’ (1989) second annual issue    (   if you’re interested,    you can read it here !     although,    a quick warning that this issue deals with the K/KK    &   it’s displayed as such on the cover;    be careful if you decide to read   ).   it follows a young bruce,    only seventeen    (   already quite buff    &   skilled,    might i add   ),   who asks to shadow a famous detective in what i believe is rural new jersey.    harvey harris was hailed to be one of the greatest detectives on the east coast,    there was nothing he couldn’t handle.    at that point,    bruce didn’t really know how he was going to go about waging a war on crime    (   he juggled with options like the FBI,    GCPD,    district attorney,    more legal positions   ),   but he knew detective work was something he’d probably have to do no matter what he chose.    so,    he sent a letter to harris,    asking to shadow him under the name frank dixon,    harris accepted with a warning that the case he had on his hands was incredibly violent    &    horrific.    throughout this issue,    we see many instances where bruce lets his emotions get the better of him    &    it ultimately leads to harris’s demise    (    indirectly,    yes,    but this is a pattern in bruce’s story.    if he did just one thing differently,    he could have saved his parents,    harvey harris,    &    COUNTLESS more people.    the fact haunts him to this day    ).   bruce    &    harris eventually track down the person who has been killing people in that small rural town,    &    he sees that he’s in the process of another murder.    i’m sure you can guess what bruce did,    he screamed    &    lunged for the man in a hot flash of rage,    the man pulls a gun.    bruce knocks him out in one swift punch,    but the gun still goes off    &    it, unfortunately,    hits harris.    in his dying moments,    he tells bruce something that sticks with him still to this day:

❝   i never tried to teach you detection.    you already got the mind for it.    but when you let your emotions take control,    you just go blind.    i don’t know where you’re headed from here,    bruce,    but wherever it is,    remember…    you gotta control that anger.    when you get that into your head– really know it– then ol’ harvey will have done right by you.   ❞                                                                                                             -- detective comics (1989) annual #2

harris had been commenting on bruce’s anger for the entire time they’ve been together,    &    we can really see how bruce struggles with understanding his own emotions through his many warnings:

❝   nice spottin’,    by the way.    now,    if we could just do somethin’ about that temper..   ❞ ❝   son,    it’s rare i see a man who carries such rage so close to the surface.   ❞ ❝   harvey was right.    because i was a hothead..  ❞    (   bruce says this   )

the thing is,    bruce had been incredibly polite to mostly everyone.    the only times he lost his cool is when people didn’t cooperate with him    &    harris on the case,    or if they made fun of him for being a “pretty,    city boy.”    most of the time,    harris had to physically hold bruce back from doing something he’d quickly regret,    such as picking a fight with grown men twice his size    (   i would like to proudly add that bruce beat these guys shitless,    but they trashed his fancy red porsche :/   ).   i know i’m spending a lot of time on this single annual,    but it’s SO important when you realize that bruce really does have anger management issues to the point where he can’t hold back his own outbursts.    let’s compare that younger bruce to the one we know today,    there’s quite a stark difference,    isn’t there ?   the batman we’re familiar with would never jump into anything without thinking about it many times over.    that’s because bruce took what harris said to heart,    &    he worked damn hard to implement his advice:

❝   i had a crazy hate,    too.    but unlike carr,    i refused to let it blind me to reality.    to the truth.    i went over the entire case eleven times,    in each instances extracting more    &    more of my emotional involvement.    &    on the twelfth pass through–a coldly logical pass–i saw what had been bothering me.    &    i knew that it wasn’t over.   ❞                                             note: carr is the murderer that bruce lunged at    &    the one that killed harris.

for us,    removing our emotions    &    thinking about something logically can range from being impossible to incredibly difficult.    imagine,    then,    the mental strength bruce,    a boy who had always been obnoxiously transparent with his feelings,    had to exert in order to go through this case without feeling some immense distracting rage    (   this ties into one of his character’s core ideas:    batman’s will/willpower is insurmountable compared to even other superheroes    ).   he eventually found out that carr was nothing more than a human weapon that someone else had been manipulating,    but the point is:    bruce realized through this issue that he wasn’t good at solving cases because he could never separate his own emotions from the victim’s.    from then on,    he tried his best to be “coldly logical” with every case he comes across,    &    he eventually adopted this state of mind when he was in the batsuit regularly.    being batman requires a ridiculously high amount of awareness    &    general perception.    if he’s constantly angry    &    jumping to rash conclusions,    he’s not going to last long.

however,    this doesn’t mean that bruce doesn’t slip up    &    let his emotions get the best of him even as an adult.    one of the most apparent examples of this is when jason dies.    i think most of us know how terrible that was    &    how bruce blames himself.    in order to keep this meta from getting unnecessarily longer,    all we need to take away from that arc is that bruce quite honestly drowns with guilt because if he had chosen to go after jason instead of go after someone else,    jason would still be alive.    with that anger directed at himself    &    at the world in general,    he recklessly starts to fight anyone he sees while in the batsuit.    even petty criminals would be beaten within an inch of their lives,    he’d make mistakes that he never did before,    &    come home with horrible injuries.    he had no sense of self-preservation,    all he cared about was his anger    &    guilt.    notice how throwing caution to the wind puts bruce in considerably more danger,    thus this supports my point that bruce struggles with his emotions,    but learned to suppress them for the sake of helping    &    saving people.

it actually surprises me when people don’t seem to realize that bruce is empathetic almost to a fault.    he holds onto hope,    &    he always had,    even if it’s foolish to do so.    hope that someone is still alive,    hope that someone still had good in them,    hope in his own abilities.    there was once a case where the entire bat-family understood immediately that a boy had killed his own parents,    but bruce clung to the hope that maybe it wasn’t him,    maybe it was some other greedy politician or hired gun.    bruce knew he was wrong    &    that he was chasing essentially no one,    but the sheer hope that the boy was innocent kept him going in circles.    i wholeheartedly believe that bruce is an empath,    someone who is incredibly sensitive to another’s emotions,    with how quickly he understands how almost everyone feels.    there are times where bruce will show compassion before he shows anything else.    yes,    he aims to scare people with his dramatic antics:

❝   gotham city is hell.    we are all in hell.    &    i am the king of hell !   ❞                                                                                                      -- batman: legends of the dark knight #6

but the purpose of his promise was to make sure nothing like what happened to him ever happens to someone else again.    i’ve said this before,    &    i’ll say it again:    BATMAN IS A GLORIFIED BABYSITTER.    really,    scarecrow said this    &    i stole it from him,    but he wants to care for his city.    that’s why he funds all these free health clinics throughout gotham,    it’s why he opened new soup kitchens    &    funded existing ones.    he revolutionized gotham’s orphanage system,    he forced wayne enterprises to make new jobs,    he single-handedly dropped gotham’s unemployment rate by a substantial amount.    he hands money    &    opportunities to struggling families,    he sits with them    &    helps them through their pain.    he does all of this against his playboy persona,    i remember how most of gotham was confused when he was starting his charity projects since he was immediately said to be ignorant or even uncaring towards gotham’s poverty    &    crime issues.    he started the ‘rebuild gotham’ project(s),    he funded arkham.    he’s in active member of the gotham’s    &    new jersey’s political scene,    influencing massive changes.    his infamous ‘no killing’ rule can be attributed to the fact that bruce doesn’t know what led someone to doing the horrible thing that he’s chasing them for;    HE TRIES TO SEE THE GOOD IN EVERYONE.    i know that comes as a surprise,    mostly because bruce openly despised superman    (    despite clark being one of the kindest people anyone has ever met    )    in that batman v superman movie,    but this blog has never taken any inspiration from those films,    so we’re going to ignore that    &    i ask you to do the same when you’re referencing my portrayal.

bruce would never go to such lengths to bring gotham back from its dark days if it wasn’t for how much he cared for its people.    &    he wouldn’t care at all if he seemingly felt no emotions.    yes,    a part of him doesn’t know how he’d deal with his trauma if he hadn’t passionately pursued something like this,    but that doesn’t take away from the fact that bruce is a fundamentally compassionate man.    the way he takes care of the victims in each case,    personally comforting them    (    hugging, etc.   ),    accommodating them in any way he can.    there’s times where he gets so angry after seeing certain victims,    that he finds it hard to control himself even after decades of training his willpower;    THAT’S how vehement his emotions are.

seeing the good in everyone    &    personally feeling everyone’s pain are both very emotionally taxing traits,    &    he doesn’t suppress these qualities.    he allows himself to feel guilt    &    practice empathy because it keeps him going when all he wants to do is collapse.    bruce has never denied feeling emotions,    he never does it to intimidate his allies,    he just has a harsh way of looking at things because,    again,    he removes his own feelings from the mix.    most other superheroes,    like in the justice league,    sometimes marvel at how bruce almost never gives into his anger during important decisions.    i keep repeating my main points    &    this is all quite the speel,    but it’s INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT that you understand that bruce has never not felt his emotions just as strongly as everyone else,    if not stronger.    to end this off,    let’s see what bruce said in response to ra’s al ghul’s earlier question    (   this is something i find that summarizes what i’ve said in this meta really well    ):

❝   plenty of them !    but it won’t do me any good for me to allow my emotions to gain control…    not while there’s a job ahead !    for years,    i’ve trained myself to concentrate on the thing at hand–    later,    i’ll cry…    if i must !   ❞                                                                                                                                 -- batman (1940) #232

&    because i know how hard tumblr’s tiny font is to read,    here’s a link to this same meta, but on google docs !   read whichever version you want !

[plush-anon]

tejoxys

I finally saw the Endgame spoilers clip

*rubbing my grubby little hands together bc I love a good roast*

Welp, if it’s a roast you want, a roast you shall receive!

(Note: I think I spoke vaguely enough about everything big in the Clips below NOT to warrant an outright Spoilers tag, so I’m leaving it with just an Endgame Leaks tag and a ‘Read More’ line. Message me if you’ve a.) seen the Clips/gone scrolling for more info in the Spoilers tag and b.) think it’s more spoilery than I try to vague it to be, and I’ll tag it post haste)

Christ Almighty, the Clips just make everything look like an enormous MESS.

Thor looks just... awful. In every scene. LITERALLY EVERY SCENE HE’S IN IN THESE SPOILERIFIC CLIPS, HE LOOKS TERRIBLE. There isn’t a single one where he doesn’t look like a mess. Everyone else gets a glow-up (new hair, tattoos, freshly shaved) and looks put together in general (which is admittedly baffling - really, EVERYONE looks good in the face of mass genocide and failure to stop it from occurring?) but Thor decided to whip out his Big Lebowski cosplay at their big ‘save the world’ get-together... why??? (seriously Thor, was a shower too much to ask for?)

Now, if we’d had ANY inclination that anyone else looked rough aside from Tony and Nebula a la the stuck-in-space teaser trailers we saw originally, that would be one thing. Everyone there lost a loved one, everyone there has probably had to come to terms with the fact that they FAILED TO STOP THANOS when they were all right freakin’ there! NO ONE SHOULD LOOK 100% OKAY HERE. Show me dishevelment, poor coping mechanisms, show them having to struggle for weeks (maybe even MONTHS) after the events.

But nope! They are ALL in perfect health according to the trailers we’ve seen before. Even Tony, after nearly dying in space multiple times, just takes a bath and appears to be in fine health after getting back (with some bags under the eyes). Everyone’s perfectly fine, except for Thor (and maaaaaybe Hawkeye, who looks to have gone full-on Frank Miller Batman in his quest for vengeance, but still had time to get a mullet and some sweet sleeve tats in between!).

Nice.

This is a MASSIVE problem with the MCU as a whole, and has been for a while: their repeated attempts to gloss over and sweep consequences of mental trauma and illness away under the rug until it suits them for plot convenience or for comedy. You see this in the Thor sequels a LOT (Selvig being institutionalized for comedy after being possessed, Loki being kept in literal solitary confinement for roughly 2 years, Valkyrie’s PTSD and alcoholism played for laughs, mocking Loki’s suicide attempt from Thor 1 and the actual death he survived in Thor 2, ALL of Odin’s outright dickishness as a parent a la narcissistic parenting, Hela being imprisoned in isolation for literal CENTURIES), as well as anything to do with Tony Stark and his thought process (everything he does is pretty much as a result of the trauma he endures, and everyone in the Avengers just??? doesn’t recognize it??? and attacks him for it without going ‘hey, maybe he’s got PTSD’ or something???? what the hell, man). GOTG does a MUCH better job of it with Rocket and Nebula, but Mantis is left woefully unrealized (thought they do touch upon it briefly, and handle it with relative seriousness). 

Either way, Thor concerns me a LOT, because he is the king of a very small group of Asgardian refugees (and given the scene that shows in the Clips, as well as the appearance of another Thor character later on, we KNOW there were multiple survivors), trying to find a new life on Midgard in the face of not one, not two, but THREE fcuking tragedies - the destruction of Asgard, Thanos’ attack on their ship, and the Snap. Why is he the way he is, in the location he’s in (which actually appears to be the apartment from Team Thor’s mockumentary)? He is the only semblance of leadership left for these people who have lost everything and he’s Like That. Where is a Thor stressed and fretting over being fully responsible for once in his life over the lives of his people, over what little remains of his kingdom? Where is a Thor struggling with guilt as he tries to build a new life for his people, struggling with rule and politics and trade? WHERE IS HE??? Bc right now, all I see is Chris Hemsworth auditioning for the remake of The Big Lebowski, having wandered onto the Avengers set instead of his audition location by mistake -_-

The scenes with Steve leave me absolutely baffled (and some of them just ooze cheese, and not in a great way), because how in the fcuk do we get to those?? His scenes feel the most disjointed here, bc they all have a similar vibe to his personality in Whedon’s Avenger movies. Kind of the ‘Boy Scout’ presentation, which is particularly odd in the aftermath of the Russo Fools’ two Cap movies and Infinity Fcuk Up, which made him more serious, less - bright? I can’t think of a good word for it rn. This is particularly highlighted in his big ‘save the world’ speech we hear - it feels kind of like an ‘okay team, time to save the world!’ speech, instead of something more serious. Is it to try to bring everyone’s hopes up? What else is missing here that we’re not seeing? Why does he feel like he’s back to this persona in light of all that’s happened? Is it to highlight how good and awesome he is in order to {SPOILER REDACTED} like we see in that final sequence? (Also, the imagery for SPOILER REDACTED, while meant to be badass and awesome, feels... kind of awkward, IMHO. Which is weird, bc I thought it would be more amazing and awesome. IDK, maybe I’m just super jaded with the MCU by now).

Carol Danvers’ scenes are actually pretty on point. She gets to be a badass in her fighting scenes and gets an awesome new look that pretty much only functions to further cement her Lesbian Status. The only way she would be more obviously a Lesbian is if her suit were in the colors of (one of) the Lesbian Pride flags and a Cyndi Lauper song was playing in the background (or maybe Joan Jett).

Hulk/Bruce Banner... I don’t even know how they’re going to swing this. Like, at all. I’m particularly baffled bc given how some of the scenes appear to be set early in the film, it resolves extremely quickly to get to that point, and after all the drama of Hulk not coming out in Infinity Fcuk Up, I just - who the fcuk knows at this point. Also, that one scene with the {SPOILER REDACTED} could be effective depending on how they set it up, but then... why exactly is he the one in the scene with the {SPOILER REDACTED} and not Carol or Thor, due to Obvious Plot Reasons?

Finally, Peter Parker. He’s adorable in his scenes, ‘nuff said.

Now, after seeing these scenes, I am left EXTREMELY CONCERNED for this movie’s tone. Granted, it was only 5 minutes of footage for a 3 hour movie. Quite clearly, there is a LOT we aren’t seeing. All the same though, it feels extremely disjointed. I know they’re trying to pull away from the dark and grim ending of Infinity War, but these clips make it all feel a little too casual, a little too ‘let’s go beat the bad guy!’ as opposed to ‘we have suffered a great failure and a great tragedy - as heroes, we MUST work to undo this for the sake of those we have lost, and everyone left alive who has lost the people they loved’. Idk, that may just be me on this one.

But you know the worst part of all of THIS? The worst part is that this is probably what we’re going to get on the release date. This isn’t a trailer Marvel released with deleted live-action scenes featuring minimal to no CGI, or sections clumsily edited over with explosion effects - this was a slew of scenes with a TON of special effects fully rendered in painstaking detail, recorded with a phone on its side in what looks like a movie theater, with foreign subtitles on the screen (I honestly don’t recognize the alphabet, but it might be Middle Eastern). That CGI is expensive and time-consuming as all hell to do, and considering how many of these scenes had it? Either they wasted a shit-ton of money on scenes they didn’t use (seriously, a number of them have Rocket in them, or Hulk - those aren’t the easiest characters to render, I would imagine), or these are in the movie, end of story.

Not to mention, TPTB clamped down on these Clips HARD - like, IMMEDIATELY - as opposed to the process behind deleting Reddit comments. The fast and heavy response from Marvel and the Russo Fools, COMPLETE WITH OFFICIAL TWEET LETTER, along with a Chris Evans tweet not to Spoil the Shit, was to chastise the ones who did (which is somewhat warranted here, given how extreme the security on leaks for Endgame have been).

This response, combined with the quality of the clips, and some of the plot threads that actually seem to be mentioned/referenced in the Lego sets, leads me to believe it’s real.

And I’m not really impressed.

On the flipside, I’m actually kind of relieved, knowing what I’m going into when I walk into the theater opening weekend. I’m not going to be completely shocked and horrified by what I see. This works well in breaking the ice, and also eases some of my anxiety on what to expect (bc I have had a LOT of it for this movie).

The downside to this is that at the end of the day, this is what 22 films ultimately amounted to. Something that feels a little too glib, a little too rushed. Something that doesn’t feel like it’s doing right by the characters who were left, and the characters we love (at least, not in full).

I understand that this is an insurmountable task - to bring to film, with limited time, a satisfying conclusion to so many characters. To arrange hundreds of people within thousands of hours on a set budget to bring this massive story, building for over ten years now, to a close that will resonate and sate with as many fans as possible. But I read fanfiction that does just that with less time, fewer moments, no budget - hell, there are 10k oneshots that rewrote Infinity Fcuk to make sense and treat the characters with the respect that they’ve earned over 20+ films.

This? Doesn’t feel like those.

I will happily admit, I am guesstimating a LOT here, based off of what essentially amounts to 3% of the movie (slightly more, depending on how long the credits are sans post-credit scenes, but still roughly 3%). There is a LOT that is missing, which could fill in these gaps successfully and make this whole post look completely pointless. If it does that, I will gleefully concede that it fooled us on this one. Maybe all of these scenes really ARE hoaxes (even if they were painstakingly subtitled in a foreign language and shown on a movie theater-size screen, but I digress).

But the framing of the scenes looks like it was meant to showcase what the movie would be as a whole, in terms of tone and what to expect. And from that, I’m not excited, or overjoyed. I’m just tired.

And I cannot WAIT for this all to be over, bc I’m fcuking exhausted just watching 5 minutes. Lord knows what 182 of them will leave me like in the end.

*peers up at massive unending ranty analysis post* ...ah. Well then. that happened again. Ah well. Hope you had fun reading my nonsense brain goop, kiddos.

[middleearth2asgard]

Burning it Down: Smaug x Reader (New Chapters Only)

The minutes felt like hours and the hours felt like days as you paced back and forth on the balcony, with one eye always fixed towards the east. You and Smaug had watched the army ride away, and eventually you would watch an army return. Whether it would be the one lead by the new King of Gondor, victorious in spite of insurmountable odds, or the one lead by the Lord of Mordor, coming to establish himself as the supreme ruler of Middle-Earth, only time would tell. And time was currently standing still, holding onto its secrets for as long as it could.

The two of you remained silent. Smaug sat, his now dark gray eyes watching you pace, wearing an expression that appeared unnaturally collected, given the circumstances. But inside his mind raced, calculating the odds of success for the various strategies he was concocting. The city was emptied except for women, children, injured soldiers, and old men. If Aragorn's army failed, there was no chance of stopping Sauron's path of destruction. Evacuating would be the only option, but that was a short term solution, buying only a few months at most. If the race of Men failed, there was no one else to defend Middle-Earth. The dwarves would fight, of course, but were they scattered across the earth, unprepared to make one large final stand against Mordor's armies. They would be whittled away, one small fight after another, until the blood of their people was totally spent. His impression of Hobbits, from the few he had encountered, was that they were a hardy breed capable of more than meets the eye. But they were also untrained and wouldn't be a match for Sauron's vicious forces. And the elves...they were leaving Middle-Earth. With the exception of Legolas, Helms Deep had been the last battle the Elves would fight on this land. As for his own species, even if they did not immediately reject him in his now permanent form, they would never offer aid. The dragons would rejoice and openly embrace the new age of darkness, as he himself would have almost a century ago.

For the first time, Smaug wondered if the jewel he had bestowed upon you in Erebor that day had not indeed been a curse in disguise. He had always told himself that he gifted you with unnaturally long life out of pure love, but perhaps it had really been born of his own selfish need. He had always been selfish. If not for him, you could have grown old and perhaps died peacefully in your sleep beside the husband you loved so dearly, as opposed to waiting to be slaughtered.

Yes, Smaug knew how much you still loved Bilbo. Lately he had been understanding your feelings far better than you yourself had. When you told Smaug you loved him, when you kissed him, when you had worried over his injured body, he had never doubted the sincerity of it. You truly loved him, and not as a pet or even as a very dear friend, but as a partner and a mate. But he also knew that it was a love formed in the midst of conflict. In the face of war and death, there had been no planning for the future or dwelling on the past. There had only been the moment. If by some miracle Sauron was defeated, he knew reality would rear its ugly head and the emotional fallout that followed would have to be dealt with.

Smaug's thoughts were interrupted by you bolting past him without saying a word. Quickly looking out to where you had previously been watching, he saw the reason for your hasty departure. An army was approaching, and even from that distance it was obvious that it was no orc army.

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

"Excuse me! Please let me through!" you yelled while trying to weave your way through the swarms of people. Apparently all of Minis Tirith's remaining occupants had witnessed the army's return over the horizon. Every parent, wife, sibling, and child of each and every soldier that rode off to battle must have been crowded around the smashed gates of the city, waiting to see if their loved ones were coming back to them alive or dead. Making your way out into the open fields that had been a war zone only mere days ago, you spotted your friends near the front of the column. You counted them off one at a time...Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, Merry, Pippin, Eomer...and swelled with joy upon realizing that all of them had survived. As they drew closer, you could see it had been a hard won fight (Legolas had dirt and what appeared to be actual sweat on his face, which in and of itself said it all). It suddenly occurred to you that nowhere among the familiar faces did you see Frodo's piercing blue eyes or Sam's gentle features. They had been gone on their own for so long that at first you hadn't really even thought to look for them among what remained of the fellowship, but if they had survived, why would they not be here now?

Quickly closing what distance remained between you and Gandalf, you ran up and, without greeting any of the victors, yelled out "What about Frodo? And Sam?"

Gandalf replied by simply pointing to the sky. Looking up, you saw two massive eagles, much like the ones you had encountered decades ago, flying to the uppermost level of the city. Without another word, or bothering to wait for the others, you turned and ran back towards the city gates.

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

You couldn't take your eyes off his face. He had lost weight since last you saw him, and he seemed older somehow. It wasn't really possible because your time apart had only added up to weeks, not years. Perhaps more mature was the better word for it. The kind of maturity that only comes with carrying such a great responsibility. Even as he lay there unconscious, you knew in your heart that he'd never again be the Frodo that had left the Shire.

Cradling his uninjured hand in yours, you reached up with the other to push his dark curls away from his closed eyes with a mother's touch. You had rushed in to check on both of them, of course, with the healers holding you at bay as long as possible. Dehydrated, malnourished, and physically exhausted had been their official diagnosis. As much as you hated for them to take Sam off alone, you couldn't tear yourself away from Frodo.

So now you sat, all alone on the edge of his bed, watching him closely for any sign of him waking up. In the back of your mind, you were conscious of the fact that you hadn't seen Smaug since you left him behind on the balcony. It was unusual for him to not be close by.

Oh how would you ever explain all of this to Frodo? While he was making his way through the worst land on Middle-Earth in his effort to save the entire world, and his uncle, your husband, had been waiting for you both in Rivendell, growing older with each passing moment, if he hadn't already...you shook your head, banishing those thoughts. Bilbo couldn't be...dead. You couldn't stand to think of it. How could you ever tarnish their honor with what you had done? They had been selfless and pure of heart, while you got all lovey with someone who was practically a stranger.

And Bilbo, how would you ever tell him? All the years you had been married you had always been faithful. Never once tempted...alright, so you hadn't been blind to the fact that other attractive males existed. That's normal in a sixty year relationship.

The fact still remained that you had never wanted or loved anyone but him...until now. And that was the most painful part of all.

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

In the hallway outside of Frodo's room sat one lonely chair occupied by one equally lonely former dragon. Smaug had not been derelict in his duty to you. He had positioned himself in a place where he would be close by, if needed, without stepping over the boundary he had drawn for himself. Frodo was a part of your life he had not yet been invited into, and he swore that he would not intrude upon it, especially in a moment such as this.

Resting the back of his head against the wall, with his eyes tightly shut, he desperately tried to make sense of the emotional hurricane taking place in the room behind him. It was a strange mixture of relief, fear, confusion, guilt, and something else he could not quite place. The feeling in question was not an unfamiliar one; he had sensed it within you before. He was just never able to find its meaning.

"I do not envy you your task."

Smaug opened his eyes to see Gandalf standing in front of him, leaning against his staff, wearing a small smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

"Understanding a woman's emotions," the wizard continued, "can be a difficult endeavor. Experiencing them along with her requires a courage beyond that of a mortal man."

"She is conflicted," Smaug said. "I anticipated as much, given recent developments, but there is something present I do not understand." Lowering his voice, he softly added, "I do not know how to help her."

Minutes of complete silence passed between them before Gandalf asked his critical question, the answer to which would determine his course of action.

"Do you ever blame y/n for Bilbo?"

Smaug looked up at Gandalf in surprise.

"It is a reasonable question," Gandalf said. "You gave up your mountain for her, and instead of falling madly in love with you, she married another. Do you resent her for that?"

Smaug dwelled upon the wizard's question. He had always envied Bilbo. And there were times, as illogical as it might sound, that he hated himself for being a dragon, as if that had even been remotely his to control. But he had only ever felt love for you.

"No," he answered. "Y/n deserved happiness with someone who was capable of giving it to her. I would not have kept her from it for anything in this world."

Gandalf watched Smaug for any sign of insincerity while he spoke, and when he found none, let out a small sigh of relief and said, "Neither would Bilbo. That is why I know he will not stand in your way now. Life has not been easy for y/n since I convinced Bilbo to give up the Ring. She knows she will lose him soon, but she will not be able to let go. She will need you more than ever when that time comes. But most importantly, she needs to know that finding hope and love in a new life will not tarnish the past one."

"How do I help her realize that?" Smaug asked.

Crossing the hallway and placing his hand on the doorknob to Frodo's room, Gandalf replied "It is not in your power to do so. There is only one who can." With that, he entered the room, leaving Smaug once again all alone.

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

The moment you first saw him start to stir, uncontrollable tears of joy began streaming down your face.

"Frodo? Can you hear me? Please answer me."

He opened those piercing blue eyes you knew so well and smiled faintly up at you before replying, "Just couldn't let me sleep in peace, could you? Is this payback for all those mornings I came in jumping on the bed at daybreak?"

You snatched him up into a hug and squeezed him much harder than you probably should have, given his weak condition.

Behind you, Gandalf chuckled before saying, "If you keep that up the healers will have to come repair a broken rib."

You pulled back and watched the look of shock on Frodo's face when he saw that Gandalf was indeed alive. That is when you remembered that the last Frodo had seen of him was when he fell fighting the beast in Moria.

One by one, the remaining members of the fellowship entered the room to be reunited with their friend. Merry and Pippin quickly launched into telling Frodo all of the grand, exciting things they had seen and done in his absence.

The happy moment, however, was interrupted when Gimli said, "Y/n, you know that fire-breathing boyfriend of yours is-Ow!"

Gimli had been cut short by Legolas elbowing him hard in the shoulder and giving him a harsh enough look to silence even the boldest of dwarves.

"Boyfriend?" Frodo asked, clearly confused.

The laughter and joyful conversation was replaced with a heavy silence that seemed to lay on everyone in the room. All around you, you became aware of the awkward shuffling of feet and darting glances of your companions.

"Come," Gandalf said, his voice suddenly cutting through the painstaking quietness. "They have much to discuss."

As Gandalf walked by you, he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder and whispered, "Do not forget what I told you that first night in Gondor."

Then you watched as your friends left the room as quickly as they had entered it.

Turning your attention to Frodo and taking a deep breath, you said "Where do I begin?"

You proceeded to tell him everything that had transpired since he left the company, glossing over some of the more private details. He did not need to know exactly what had been said between you and Smaug. By the end of your tale, you sat, head down, looking much like a child waiting for her punishment.

Frodo reached over and took both of your hands in his before saying, "If there is one thing I have learned through this ordeal, it is that life does not always turn out the way we would wish it to. The years the three of us had together in the Shire had to have been some of the happiest anyone has ever experienced. But in a great many ways, that life has already ended, for all of us."

His eyes took on a distant, pained expression that confirmed what you had already suspected in your heart: he would never be the same as he once was.

"I have always loved you like you were my own mother," he continued. "And I know better than anyone how much you mean to Uncle. But your part in this story is obviously far from being over, and neither of us would want you to spend those years alone."

With fresh tears forming in your eyes, you leaned forward and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. Then you stood up and made your way over to open the door. Stepping out into the hallway, you saw your ever loyal guardian keeping watch, just as you had expected to find him.

"Smaug," you began, "there is someone I would like for you to meet."

[plugrick]

The reaction that jumped out of Mike hit Rick square in the chest like a bag of bricks. He had been expecting a lot of things after his succinct explanation of the venom’s effects: shock and appallment, understandable anger, maybe a hail of questions. But this?

This took him off guard.

The tears came, immediately overwhelming the insectizoid eyeballs that Rick liked to compare to cut rubies. Mike screwed up his face and sobbed openly, unable to help himself in the face of the secret horrors he’d unveiled. The thing with the venom had… It really was the straw that broke his back, huh?

Rick’s expression pinched in a mixture of worry and empathy, the cavalier attitude he’d carried throughout the demonstration dropping away in an instant.

“M-Mike, I’m… I’m sorry. I…”

He cut himself off. It didn’t matter - Mike was already hurt. He was tempted to reach out for him, say something more, but… He would give him what he wanted. He would… he would get away and let him have his space.

He exchanged the same look of concern with Amy and retreated to the other room, signaling for her to follow. What else could they do? Rick felt like he’d done more than enough damage already. Making Mike cry like that… Again…

He felt a sharp pain stab at his heartstrings. A feeling he had grown far too familiar with.

It was Guilt. Debilitating, heavy guilt. He felt like he’d swallowed lead. He sunk down into a chair under the weight of it all, running a hand through his hair in distress.

“I know, I know. I-III should’ve told him the truth before all of this. Th-the whole truth.” Maybe if he had done it beforehand instead of waiting until it was too late, he could have spared his ex boyfriend the mind breaking revelation when he was at his most vulnerable. Rick felt awful. “It was just - it was just that before the prison stint, h-he didn’t know anything about Lizardperson, a-aaand…”

And Rick might’ve preferred it that way. The experience he’d been through at the hands of that monster had been intense, repulsive, humiliating. Of course he wouldn’t have been willing to bring it up.

It wasn’t like Mike willingly brought up the whole deal with Flannax out of the blue, either… They had an understanding that they both had something that happened in their pasts, but the subject remained mysterious throughout the majority of their relationship…

And if Mike hadn’t known anything about Lizardperson, then of course he wouldn’t know about his forced addiction to its venom, of the damage it wrought to his body, or that Galax was the thing that filled in for the absence of being bitten on a regular basis. It was one horror that lead into another, lined with even more horror - the whole subject was wildly complicated and the thought of explaining everything from scratch without context had felt like an insurmountable task.

“I-I just - I didn’t know where I would’ve even started!” Rick admitted, pinpricks of tears welling in the corners of his vision. He looked up at the female gromflomite with wet, sad puppy eyes. “Y-you understand, don’t you, A-Amy?”

He wiped his nose on his sleeve, casting a concerned look in the direction of the bed. Mike was in shambles, simply beside himself in woe and so uncharacteristically weak. Rick didn’t think he’d ever seen him so beaten down before the incident involving their arrest. But after everything that went on…

How many times thereafter he’d seen the big bad assassin break down into a million little pieces of himself…

Rick sniffled, looking away. If he was going to make it through this brutal detox, then they had to keep things together. Be there for him even if he didn’t really want them to be.

“Y-you’re his sister. Maybe you can help talk him through th-the… The shock of all this…?” He gingerly suggested, clearly at a loss. He sighed, a hundred guilty thoughts clouding his mind.

“Oh… I w-would’ve never given him the Galax back then if I knew that a-any of this would happen…”

X

[anguianobrodan90]

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[shinneth]

Gem Ascension Tropes (White Diamond-specific: A - E)

Primary General Post ♦ Full Article ♦  Primary Peri Post 

Adaptational Villainy: While White was creepy, imposing, and very antagonistic in canon until the tail end of CYM, her GA incarnation stubbornly remains as the Big Bad up to the moment she self-destructs. And this is even after she was given a chance to make a new life for herself.

A God Am I: Of course she believes this. White was also certain whatever combination of Diamonds formed the “Diamond of Miracles” would have her in the equation no matter what, so White fully believed she was the legendary savior everybody needed on top of that. The fact that she all but entirely shut down after seeing Pink 2.0 and Chartreuse form that very Diamond says it all.

Asshole Victim: Well… she was a Complete Monster…

The Assimilator: One of White Diamond’s most identifiable traits in the GA continuity. She goes well beyond just snatching bodies; she permanently evicts her victims’ conscious minds just to use the bodies as monitoring devices. Even worse, a victim might be forcibly fused with several others to form a perma-fusion that is little more than a clone of White Diamond (in likeness only).

Bad Boss: She’s no better (likely much worse, even) than Yellow or Blue when it comes to shattering her own subjects; even over misdemeanors or just because she felt like it. And Act I proves even her fellow Diamonds aren’t immune to this: White kills Blue and Yellow without any second thoughts, even though doing so ultimately did more harm than good for her. After all the trouble White went through to convince Peridot to ascend to Chartreuse Diamond, sweet-talk and all, White wasted no time using Chartreuse the moment she came into existence and micromanaged the hell out of her. Despite outright telling Peridot that the two of them would be equals if she became Chartreuse Diamond, the second the latter referred to her as an equal set White off big time. White outright abused Chartreuse for even claiming they were equals. So, yeah… “bad boss” is putting it mildly.

Big Bad: Is quickly established to be this, barely giving the other Diamonds a chance to be antagonistic towards the heroes before she turns on them as well.

Body Snatcher: Will supplant a pallified gem’s consciousness at will, and when the pallification condition is widespread, she can Body Surf with ease.

Break the Haughty: Most of Act III qualifies as this for White. Even in the beginning, at the height of her power, Peridot’s constantly undermining her authority. Still, by Chapter 8, this trope hits White to the highest possible degree. She loses her subjects (consequently making her unable to make use of her omniscient powers), the Crystal Gems are beating her up very efficiently by the later chapters, no one respects her at all, she’s not part of the “diamond of miracles” prophecy, and Homeworld itself falls primarily due to her own incompetence. By the end, she’s become such an irrelevant joke to the Crystal Gems that their indifference to her is what causes a chain of events that ultimately leads to White self-destructing out of shame.

Break Them by Talking: Employs this with some very well-timed Armor-Piercing Questions to finally make a crack in Peridot’s otherwise unbreakable stubborn defiance. Peridot is rendered powerless and submissive, which enables White to pinpoint her other weaknesses to make her ultimately succumb to the Big Bad’s will. She succeeds in doing this again later when she takes advantage of Chartreuse’s more recent shortcomings as Peridot in her inability to fuse, in addition to guilt-tripping her over her negative influence on Steven inadvertently caused by their mutual PTSD. 

But For Me, It Was Tuesday: While Yellow and Blue are also historically guilty of this to the highest degree, their limited presence in the GA series doesn’t allow them to actively portray this trope at all – let alone embody it so thoroughly as White Diamond. Even then, White is very likely to be responsible for more deaths (from petty shatterings of court members who annoyed her to full-on global genocide) than her two fellow Diamonds combined. White has to be actively called out before she’ll even attempt to think back on any time she actively ended a life, but the most she’ll ever do is offer the flimsiest justification. But really, White’s far more likely to disregard it entirely; it’s a given she can’t be bothered to remember the details of long-dead “lower beings”.

The Caligula: It can be argued White was always this, but once she’s the last one standing in the Diamond Authority and has to stand in for both Yellow and Blue Diamond’s duties, it’s evident given the state of Homeworld from Act I compared to Homeworld of Act III that White is utterly batshit as a ruler who seemingly wants the world to burn. The vast majority of the Homeworld gems are pallified, and the few that remain untainted don’t have a clue of what’s going on. And they were threatened to be pallified if they dared ask questions. White is notorious for switching her mood on a dime…

Can’t Kill You, Still Need You: In two different ways this trope is in play for why White Diamond keeps Peridot alive after capturing her; her value as a Hostage MacGuffin to lure Steven back to Homeworld and into her grasp, and Peridot herself being the final gem White Diamond experimented on before she emerged, which White herself has big plans for taking advantage of.

Chooser of the One: White Diamond conducted the experiment and added the diamond ingredients to the injector fluid that would later create Peridot. Mind you, Peridot was randomly chosen, and White Diamond only did this because Homeworld wouldn’t be able to create any more gems after this, meaning no more opportunities to conduct these kinds of experiments.

Clone Degeneration: Can make clones of herself via fusing several pallified gems into a singular being, but despite invoking her likeness, they will never be anywhere near as powerful as White Diamond herself. But it’s not like they’re meant to be powerful to begin with…

Complete Monster: Unlike her canon counterpart, there are zero redeeming qualities of White Diamond and not a single shred of moral fiber or empathy exists within her.

Control Freak: Considering her general personality and being a serial Body Snatcher that literally lets her control her subjects’ every movements… it’s safe to say White is this trope to the highest possible degree.

Cruel Mercy: After losing her empire, her subjects, and soon to be losing her planet, Steven honoring White’s request for an Energy Donation doesn’t yield the kind of reaction White is used to getting. Instead, everyone regards her with apathy and neutrality, and White quickly understands this is much more devastating than being universally reviled. She doesn’t understand the point in living if she can’t be the center of attention and the most important aspect of everyone’s lives, so White actually feels Steven is condemning her to A Fate Worse Than Death.

Deader than Dead: She exploded into a ring of dust right before her planet did the same. She’s gone.

Death by Adaptation: Near the end of Act III. Obviously, she never died in Change Your Mind.

Death by Despair: Losing her planet, her subjects, her authority, her dominance over others, her relevance… then being nearly scared to death by Peridot and mildly disfigured by Connie is what finally drives White over the edge as she’s unable to cope with how hard she’s fallen in the span of a day. So, in her agony, she self-destructs shortly after the Crystal Gems leave.

Defensive Feint Trap: So, that big battle the Crystal Gems have with White in Chapter 6 of Act III? Where White barely got in any offense at all as the Crystal Gems wreaked havoc on her? Total waste of time, as that wasn’t really White Diamond, but rather a proxy. Once Chartreuse and Pink 2.0 are captured by the proxy, another one comes over to take the prisoners before destroying the battle-worn proxy with ease. 

Defiant to the End: Even at her lowest moment, she mocks the Crystal Gems and even tries to throw Steven’s Energy Donation back into his face.

Does This Remind You of Anything?: The dichotomy between White Diamond and Chartreuse Diamond is exactly the same as the dichotomy between Yellow Diamond and Peridot. The only difference is that White and Chartreuse are both Diamonds, therefore on the same level (White even said as much before convincing Peridot to ascend) – but almost immediately, White asserts her dominance over Chartreuse and refuses to see her as an equal. She abuses Chartreuse enough to scare the latter back into the familiar position of “lowly minion” and micromanages Chartreuse every chance she gets. Once White Diamond gives Chartreuse backhanded praise for capturing the Crystal Gems, it invokes Chartreuse’s Heel Realization that ultimately leads to her Heel-Face Turn.

Don’t You Dare Pity Me!: Says this almost verbatim in Chapter 8 of Act III to Iridescent Diamond.

The Dreaded: Just talking about her on Homeworld can result in A Fate Worse Than Death. White embraces this trope more openly towards the end of Act I, as it’s revealed between then and the start of Act III that she’s infected almost the entirety of Homeworld to the point where the planet itself can no longer keep itself together.

Entitled Bastard: So very exaggerated with this iteration of White Diamond.

Evil is Petty: To the Nth degree. She kills Yellow Diamond despite the latter managing to get to her feet against all odds while severely injured per the former’s instructions… solely on the basis that White didn’t like how Yellow was standing. Peridot is the one most often on the receiving end of this, as White resorts to cheating on two separate occasions to overcome her own insurmountable willpower. The rest of the Crystal Gems are also subjected to the pettiness throughout Act III, though this aspect of White is even more exaggerated in Celadon Diamond.