#mm sweet sweet codependency

[cris-doing-cris-things]

Adding to the reblog separately, because didn't want to write it in the reblog

If Vader survived, I think, weirdly enough, he'd become Luke's only support network

Luke obviously doesn't trust anyone with his feelings, he doesn't want to speak about his problems with his friends, because they're all dealing with their own problems, it's not their responsibility to sit and listen his whining (as he thinks about it)

Luke was raised to think about other people before he thinks of himself, and naturally, he won't feel safe "bothering" anyone, and potentially being only judged for it

Besides, he's the rebellion's last hope, he's their poster boy, their symbol, if he goes around talking how he doubts everything he's doing, and that he feels like he can't really manage in this new role - what will it say about rebellion in general, how will it affect people's spirit to hear their resident jedi spiral into depressive moods?

It's so much pressure to actively put on a face and hide everything you feel, no wonder guy's first solution to all inner conflicts is "isolate, get your ship, disappear for like a month on some 'mission' you just made up until you're fine, return as if nothing happened"

Which brings us to the question of "what could actually prompt Luke to feel vulnerable enough to share"

Considering his obvious lack of interest in any romantic interactions, that wouldn't be a partner, like in most such cases, friends are out of the question from the get-go, he's not really the type to spill his guts to strangers, unless it's the only option, which leaves us with only one possibility, the person he was obsessing over his whole life - his father

It also makes sense in the context of his father not counting as "being bothered" by Luke's problems, as hearing Luke out, supporting and helping him navigate the situation is the whole point of being a father

Of course it's slightly negated by the fact that it's Darth Vader we're talking about, and he doesn't come off as someone who can offer any comfort

But at the same time it's Anakin Skywalker and Luke is his son he canonically died for, overcoming 20 years of emotional supression isn't that bad compared to some other options

All of this to say

I just think there's something beautiful in the fact that Luke and Vader are both very strong people in their own right, who others usually look up to and lean on in harsh times, and they will remain strong and not allow anyone but each other to see all the weak, tired, completely traumatized vulnerable sides they have

It just melts my soul a bit whenever I think about Luke maintaining a perfect facade for Leia, Han and the entirety of the galaxy, effortlessly managing difficult situations and making tough decisions, only to get home a cry on his father's shoulder for three hours, because he can't show anyone else how actually exhausted and stressed out he is

As well as Vader being the most feared man in the galaxy to everyone else, and a poor little meow meow suffering from nightmares, C-PTSD, paranoia and ten thousand other things to his son

And nobody else would ever know how much having each other actually means for them

[veritas-scribblings]

2. early morning | words: 3, 325 | M for sexual content and toxic, codependent lack-of-boundaries friendships | jegulus, implied bartylus | [things we carry <- previous part | next part -> out of control]

(March, 1982)

Regulus is still surprised when he wakes up next to James. He thinks the surprise and the novelty of it all may never wear off.

James threads his fingers through Regulus’s hair, curling the locks around his fingers, gently scratching at his scalp. He nudges a leg between Regulus’s and stays there for a moment, humming quietly by his ear. Heat pools into Regulus’s stomach. He savours the pressure, lets the adrenalin in his veins settle, the tingling inside him be replaced by that flush of comfort and arousal from being so close to James he can feel his breath, feel his pulse, feel the slide of skin-against-skin. James is warm and rough and smooth, the weight of him on top of Regulus is familiar and reassuring. 

Regulus wraps an arm around James, gripping the small of his back. Together they rock and they shift, sleepily, drowsily, seeking the friction which flares and burns hot. Until the tension inside Regulus curls tighter and tighter and finally snaps.

Regulus gasps. Closes his eyes. Cries out. Pleasure and bliss chasing each other like fireworks through his veins. As he spirals back down to Earth, he can feel James’s movements become more frantic, more desperate. He pulls James closer to him, feels James’s breath on his neck, warm, coming in quick sharp puffs. James’s muscles shift and flex beneath his hands. He traces the bumps of James’s spine with the tips of his fingers. Hears James’s breathing quicken.

Regulus loves the buttered-toast warmth of his bed in the early hours of the morning. When he can see the sun rising through the thin fabric of his curtains. Hear the rustle of his bed clothes. The smell of James, which is overpoweringly rich and heady and oaky. When he thinks, for a moment, caught up in the headlong whirlwind of it all, IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. When, for a moment, he can ignore how quickly (and embarrassingly) he has fallen for James. When he wants, so desperately, to live in this moment right here, forever.

“Don’t go back to sleep,” Regulus warns. James is always dozy and useless in his post-orgasmic bliss, and Regulus knows that soon Barty will come charging through his bedroom door and try to join them in bed. Because what are boundaries even between Regulus and Barty?

Regulus doesn’t really mind, but James will have a fit and Regulus doesn’t need his morning ruined by the two of them fighting.

James grunts. Mouths at Regulus’s neck, clumsy with the weight of sleep pulling at him. He mumbles something that’s slurred, that Regulus can’t quite make out.

“Come on.” Regulus prods James. “Get up, you lump.” When James doesn’t move, he tries, “You’re crushing me.”

“Can’t help it. ‘m all muscle,” James mumbles into his neck. He laughs, but obliges and rolls off Regulus. Early morning, James’s hair is messier than usual, sticking up at all sides. He is all crinkled and sleep-creased in a way that is so endearing to Regulus that Regulus is almost sickened with himself. James smiles, squints at Regulus and reaches up and pokes Regulus directly in the eye.

“Ouch! What the hell was that?”

“Shit.” James winces. “Sorry, I meant that to be more…smooth.”

“Really, you meant poking me in the eye to be smooth, idiot?”

“Well, your hair was all in your eyes and—”

“—you thought actually blinding me would be a more permanent option.”

“No, I was going to tuck it behind your ear and it was going to be all sweet, like a moment.”

“That’s a pity, dumbass, because you failed.”

James rolls back towards Regulus and kisses him. “Mm, forgive me, my prince. I am but a mere fool.” He kisses him again. “Helpless without my glasses.” And again. “Unable to bask in the glory of your beauty.”

The kisses are gentle at first. Chaste. And then he slides a hand around the back of Regulus’s neck, runs the tip of his tongue along Regulus’s lip, and licks into his mouth. Regulus sighs, savouring the taste of it, the feel of it, the burn of fire inside him. James has his hands in Regulus’s hair, running over Regulus’s neck. Regulus can’t help but lean into the kiss to deepen it, stroke his tongue against James’s…but then, as usual, James ruins the kiss by smiling like an idiot.

“Sorry,” James mumbles against his mouth. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll, let’s—”

James is cut off immediately, because Regulus was right. Regulus is always right. Regulus knows Barty too well after so many years.

James shouts in alarm when Barty bursts through the bedroom door and leaps onto the bed. Because Barty gets lonely and does not sleep (though he was generous enough to allow them to finish before invading their space; Regulus will give him that) and James apparently does not learn from experience and still insists on acting as shocked as the first time Barty did this.

Barty slides under the covers. James flails and tries to shove him out of bed, tries to cover his own nakedness. He seems to be genuinely indignant and outraged on Regulus’s behalf as well, like Barty has never seen Regulus naked before. Like they’ve never been in this position before.

“Fuck off, Crouch, you freak!”

But Barty just scoffs, tucks himself against Regulus’s side. “Bite me, Potter. I was here first.” He buries his face in Regulus’s hair, only Regulus can see out of the corner of his eye that Barty is wearing a purely scathing glare. “Be grateful I let you have him all night.”

Barty is testing James, Regulus knows. He’s testing James and James is poised to failed. Barty knows this. Regulus knows this. James will leave eventually, because why wouldn’t he? Why would he stay? James is on a runaway broom and he’ll leap off moments before the crash. Because he is not suicidal and he has more self-respect than that.

Regulus knows that Barty is just trying to protect their territory. That he’s trying to protect Regulus as he always has. James is a home wrecker, Barty says. James is too vanilla. James is an amoeba. Outsiders are not welcome, and definitely not unicellular organisms. Whatever that means.

But Regulus just wants more time with James before it all inevitably comes crashing down. He isn’t ready to give this up just yet. James, who makes him feel special. James, who makes him feel like he’s bigger than the world would otherwise have him. He wants it all, and he wants it for as long as he can have it.

As it is, James has already climbed out of bed, cleaned himself off and is aggressively pulling on his clothes. Regulus feels the bottom of his stomach give out beneath him. Feels the racing of his pulse scream, don’tleavemdon’tleavemedon’tleaveme.

Barty holds Regulus close to him, face buried his hair, comments on how “messy” Regulus is and “didn’t your fuck boy clean you off?” He ignores James as he burrows deeper under the covers.

“Barty,” Regulus says as Barty snuffles into his hair. Barty is starting to get comfortable, and this cannot happen. Not right now. “Respectfully, fuck off.”

Barty pulls back. Blinks, startled. Pouts a little. He’s genuinely offended, Regulus knows, and a little bit hurt. Regulus has never denied Barty what Evan calls Barty’s “cuddle time”, because Barty is so needy and touchy and always in search of physical contact of all kinds. Violence. Affection. Confrontations, altercations, intimacy… It’s all the same to Barty. He lives and breathes for it.

But Barty will have to deal. For as long as James wants to stay, for as long as Regulus can have him. Barty will have to deal. And it will be new territory for him, and he will have tantrums about it undoubtedly.

Barty rolls off the bed and departs, but not before he drops a kiss on Regulus’s forehead and smirks at James. “Play nice, kids. Don’t do anything I would do.”

When Barty is gone, James groans into his hands. “Merlin’s left bollock, why does he even do that. Why does…what…does he actually think that’s acceptable?”

Regulus shrugs. “Barty’s Barty.”

“Barty’s Barty?” James repeats, like he’s near traumatised by the experience of having Barty in bed with him. “He’s insane. There’s something very wrong with him.”

Regulus just shrugs again, because it’s not like James is wrong about this. Barty is a little bit—or a lot—insane. It’s actually why he and Barty get along so well.

“Such a jerk,” James mutters again. He groans. Shakes his head. Sits on the edge of the bed, which Regulus is still tucked into. “So, I wanted to talk to you…”

Regulus sits up, surprised. Evan says that in “convention social dynamics” the phrase “talk to you” is a sign. Evan never quite elaborated on what it would be a sign of, but Regulus can fill in the blanks. Signs are not normally promise of anything good. Most times, when you’re divining signs in a crystal ball or a teacup, they are normally omens of which one should be cautions.

So many things are ending sooner than Regulus thought. Maybe James is done; he’s taken what he needs and he’s off to someone else’s bed. 

“No, no,” James says quickly, like he’s read Regulus’s thoughts in his expression, in his silence. “It’s…my birthday. My parents normally have a thing. You know, a dinner. Celebrate.”

“…sure, and?”

“And, well, you should come.” There it is again, that purely earnest look, that sincerity, because James doesn’t do words or emotions by half-measures. He’s all in, all of him in everything he says and does.

The difference is, Regulus is so much more cautious about people and the world and will not dip his toe into the water if he isn’t 100% sure. “I should come,” he repeats. “To have dinner…with your parents?”

“Sure! I’d love you to be there!”

But why, Regulus wants to know. And, what is James’s ulterior motive. Because Regulus is certain that James has one. Otherwise, why would James want Regulus to “meet his parents”?

“Why?” Regulus asks. 

This seems to take James off-guard, because for a moment he’s staring at Regulus absolutely baffled, like Regulus has asked him why his underwear is in the Daily Prophet. “What do you mean, why?”

“I mean just that. Why?” Regulus says right before it dawns on him. “Sirius…will be there.”

“No!” James falters. “I mean, yes. Yes, he will, but no. Not ‘no he won’t be there’, because he will. But no, that’s not why I’m asking you! Well…not entirely.”

“No.”

“No…you won’t go?” James stands, towering over both Regulus and the bed Regulus is still tucked into. 

It occurs to Regulus that he’s still naked under the covers. He’s still ‘messy’, as Barty put it. And he’s incredibly uncomfortable with the contents of this discussion and with the emotions that are bubbling up inside of him. With the look of confusion and rejection on James’s face, which he cannot for the life of him fathom. And he’s incredibly uncomfortable with all of this happening all at once, because, it seems, these sorts of discussions should not he happening at all. Let alone while Regulus is naked and covered in the remnants of what they’d been doing not so long beforehand.

“No, I won’t go,” Regulus repeats.

“I’m not trying to…”

“Yes, you are trying to…”

James groans into his hands, runs them both through his already messy bed-hair. It seems as though he too may be uncomfortable with the contents of the discussion and the entire backdrop in which the discussion is happening, because he begins pacing back and forwards in frustration. 

“Well, it would be nice,” James says. And because James can’t do anything by half-measures, his words come out dripping in annoyance. “Like, to have the both of you not actively trying to avoid each other. Maybe even to have the both of you make amends? I don’t know. But, you know, Sirius is okay with us. Well, no, he’s not. Or, maybe he is, I don’t know, but he hasn’t strictly forbidden it.”

“I don’t care. Sirius has zero say in who I sleep with,” Regulus says flatly.

“I care. Sirius is my best friend. I’d like for the two of you to get along.”

Regulus huffs, draws the covers to his chest. He wants to look down, avoid eye contact with James, who is staring at him pleadingly. Earnestly, he wants to say. Only he doesn’t. He doesn’t, because he will not be weak, and he will not give James—James, who is already trying to ask so much of him—that sort of power.

He can’t see Sirius. He will not see Sirius, because he does not know what he would do if he did see Sirius. He does not know what he will say. He does not know how to deal with all of it, or how to answer the millions of questions Sirius will have.

So he will not put himself in that situation. It’s safer that way.

“No.”

“No,” James repeats. “Regulus…this is important to me. It’s important to me that you are a part of my life, and a huge part of my life is my family and…well, Sirius.”

“Then why are you still here?”

James drops down onto the bed by Regulus’s feet, eyes wide. Speechless. Almost breathless. “What? What do you mean?”

Sitting in bed, naked under the covers, Regulus feels exposed. He feels small. Smaller than he’s felt in a long time. Maybe Barty was right: outsiders should not be welcome into their territory. Their territory—Regulus, Barty and Evan—is protected for a reason. They’re safe inside the boundaries they’ve set up, the barbed fences, the wards they’ve raised around each other.

They built the wall around themselves so they wouldn’t get hurt. Only Regulus let down the drawbridge for James, and now everything hurts. James has brought hurt into his world, and Regulus no longer feels safe.

Because, apparently, Regulus is not enough. Not by himself. Alone, he is not enough. James needs Sirius there, too. Sirius, who is loud and who is big and can fill all the spaces Regulus cannot fill. Sirius can be enough for James.

“Couples fight, Regulus,” James sighs after a moment of studying Regulus’s silence. “This is normal.” He’s looking at Regulus with pity, like Regulus is something broken that maybe even James Potter cannot fix. “It doesn’t mean I’m going to pack up and go because we’ve had an argument.”

“You don’t like Barty being around. You don’t like the fact that I won’t see Sirius.” There’s a chill in Regulus’s voice. He climbs out of bed, grabs his house robe and pulls it on. “No one’s asking you to stay, James. Barty’s not going anywhere and I won’t see Sirius for your sake just because we’re fucking. You may as well accept it and leave.”

Regulus tries to swallow his words. He wants to take them back. Because he wants more time. Salazar, does he want more time. While he can have it. The phrase, “couples fight”, is like a knife to the gut. When did they become a couple? Why was Regulus not told? Did James always know this? Did Barty and Evan know this and not tell him? To spare him or something? Three months, and did not one think to tell him? Did they not think this was crucial information for him to be in possession of?

Before Regulus knows it, he’s in the kitchen fumbling around for the teapot and tea leaves. Filling the kettle with water. Barty leans up against the kitchen bench. He looks angry, dangerous. Regulus knows that look. It’s the look that says that someone is about to lose an appendage. Barty’ll take a hand or a tongue or eyes for their offence.

James has followed Regulus into the kitchen. He seem startled. Bewildered. That earnest sincerity that Regulus used to think is pathetic, then loved whole-heartedly, and now thinks might be a weapon with which James will hurt him. Regulus finds himself saying, “leave,” before he can swallow his words. Even while he thinks, Iloveyoudon’tleavemepleasedon’tleaveme.

“You heard him,” Barty repeats. “Leave.”

“You heard him,” Evan echoes. He’s woken up in all the commotion and stands in the mouth of the stairwell, arms folded over his bare chest. He doesn’t look happy. Where Barty never sleeps and Regulus is an early riser, all Evan does is sleep. So beside the anger and hostility is a huge helping of resentment.

“This has nothing to do with either of you,” James says fiercely.

Evan produces his wand, though from where, Regulus doesn’t know. “Try again, Potter. Regulus has everything to do with both of us.” He taps his wand against his thigh. A sign, Regulus knows, that Evan is currently contemplating the exact steps of his next move. “So. You can pick pain or death. I’m death, by the way. He’s,” he gestures to Barty, “he’s pain. And trust me: Barty’s creative. Me, I don’t fuss with all of that.”

“Regulus.” James’s voice is quiet now. Regulus can hear James moving behind him, feels Barty take his hand and run his thumb over his knuckles comfortingly.

Regulus doesn’t respond and instead pours all of his focus into not shattering the teapot with the gravity of his emotions. He is drowning.

Eventually, James’s footsteps fade into the distance and the front door opens with a click, closes with a thud. Regulus stares into the teapot, the leaves floating, the steam furling. He can hear in his head, the IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou and the comebacktomecomebacktomecomebacktome, the voices layering on top of each other until his hands are shaking and his heart is thudding out of his chest. 

He said this, maybe. “I love you,” or maybe, “I love him,” because Barty wraps Regulus in an embrace that’s tight and full-body. Sighs gently, “Oh, baby,” and then offers up a reassuring, “He’ll be sorry,” like he thinks he’s being reassuring. “I promise. The son of a bitch will hurt, I promise.”

Evan nods vigorously, rubbing a hand on Regulus’s back.

“No!” Regulus pulls backwards. “No, don’t. I swear, I’ll be so mad at you if James wakes up without a head or something.”

“I was actually thinking something lower south,” Barty says with a sinister chuckle. “Warts and boils and pustules. Itchiness like fire ants.”

“No!”

“Baby,” Barty tips his head to the side the way he always does when he think he’s right and the rest of the world just has to catch up with him, “I know he’s pretty and you’ve spent the last three months singing praises about his magnificent dick, but the bastard must pay for his crimes.”

“Agreed,” Evan says, nodding again. “Payment must be had.”

When Regulus pulls out of Barty’s arms, he realises he has been crying. Fuel, Regulus knows, to Barty and Evan’s fire. “It’s not what…” He pauses. Shakes his head. “It was a mistake. Just a stupid mistake. I made a stupid mistake.”

They won’t do anything without his blessing, Regulus knows. But he also knows that Evan is right: Barty is creative. And Barty will find creative ways of getting even, making James pay. For Regulus’s stupidity. His stupidity is buying into James’s promises, believing that maybe Regulus could be enough as “just Regulus” and not as “Regulus and Sirius”. Like James is trying to collect the Black Brothers and thinks that the Black Brothers should come in pairs, not solo.

Regulus has never been enough. Not Regulus by himself. Not Regulus as himself. Regulus as someone else, maybe. Regulus The Heir of the Noble House of Black. Regulus: Sirius’s Little Brother. Regulus The Prodigal Pureblood.

Regulus The Back Up Plan. 

To everyone but Barty and Evan.

[mybedroomceilingsbored]

”And you know I love you too, and I couldn’t do this without you.”

“I know”

THIS IS A WIN FOR GAY PEOPLE ACROSS THE GLOBE!!! LETS GO!!!!! I LOVE CODEPENDENT SITUATIONSHIPS THAT ARE ALSO GAY!!!! AND INVOLVE AN OTHERWORLDLY BEING AND SOME GUY!!!!!! HOORAYYYYY!!!!!!!🥳🥳🥳🥳 HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!!!! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

mm :) they're so sweet!!

(not to be this person-but i just wanted to make sure you knew that they're confirmed platonic and nothing else. Harlan's cool with shippers, but i don't want you to be surprised/disappointed when nothing else happens. I absolutely love the way their relationship is evolving-and i rlly appreciate the way Harlan's showing close platonic relationships between two guys. Obviously they've got tons of issues, but they've got smth quite special that I'm personally happy with. Absolutely nothing against shippers though, and i've got no issues with you interpreting the monologue that way! Just a heads up <3)

These past few eps were such a rollercoaster, omgg. Still reeling!

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ I had some emotions about domestic blackbonnet having healthy and positive emotional conversations. May turn into a collection of vignettes featuring their beautiful work inn progress! <3

Characters: Ed/Stede, Stede & Alma

Read on AO3

The Petrified Orange

Ed woke up to a little note left on Stede’s pillow. Izzy.

He frowned at it, and contemplated going down there himself. Then he thought the better of it. There was obviously a reason Stede had gone to see Izzy instead of waking him up, like maybe he needed some space. Or to talk about whatever was on his mind with someone who wasn’t Ed - apparently, having more than one freakishly codependent confidant could actually help one’s mental health and decision making abilities. Who would have thought. (He’s not sure where they stand on that if one of said confidants is dead, but it’s got to be better than nothing.)

Still. Ed was not, as a rule, a patient person, and an impatient person prone to panic could only handle so much mystery before the sun rose. So when he’d done up the bacon and eggs and put the tea on and Stede still had not reappeared over the threshold, he slung a robe over his shoulders, bundled breakfast onto a tray, and picked up a lantern to pick his way down there.

Stede was asleep in the sand by the grave marker. At least, he was until he heard footsteps and awoke with a start, dagger in hand.

“Oh. Ed.” He relaxed again and looked around, getting his bearings. Brushed the sand from his shirt and his mouth, distractedly. “I must have drifted off. The sound of the ocean is so nice out here.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? You’re sort of … staring wistfully.”

Ed gestured, and Stede caught himself doing it again. It was as if without even noticing, his eyes were drawn to the small, rhythmic motions of the distant waves. He had kind of been hoping it would help him think through something, but he’d mostly just thought himself around in circles. He sighed. There was so much in that sigh, Ed took himself a seat in the sand and poured them each a teacup. 

“What’re you staring wistfully about, then?”

“It’s Alma’s birthday today. My daughter. She’s thirteen.”

“First one you’ve missed?”

Stede snorted. “God no. Probably closer to the sixth; I don’t actually know.”

“Oh.”

“As always, I admire your faith in me,” Stede assured him, “but I was a pretty rubbish dad. I didn’t really try that hard with her, and even when I did I wasn’t very good at it. Then I went and … blew up her life, didn’t I? Abandoned her and her brother, then came back, then left again. She should hate me. I shouldn’t even call her my daughter, to be honest. She’s Mary’s daughter, not mine.”

Ed nodded, understanding. “So it was a Chauncey Spiral Night, huh?”

“Every spiral night is Chauncey Spiral Night,” Stede reminded him. “He did play all the hits. Plus. I found this while we were unpacking.”

Stede reached into his pocket and pulled out a stone. Looking closer, Ed recognised it. The petrified orange. Well, half of it anyway.

“She gave me half,” Stede whispered. “And kept half with her. I think it was her way of telling me she forgives me.”

“That’s sweet. Kids can appreciate courage, I think,” Ed said. “She must have known it took some guts for you to go back after all that.”

“You know what, I think she did. I think she understood why I did what I did, too. And that it worked. We were all happier for it, in the end.”

“Mm. Poison into positivity, eh?”

“Yeah.” Stede turned the orange over in his hand, and smiled. “I guess so.”

He cast a glance back over his shoulder, up toward the house, and Ed followed his gaze. He had an idea, and if he had it right, Ed was having that same idea right now.

“Maybe that’s what we should call it,” Stede suggested. “The Petrified Orange.”

“The real treasure we found along the way?” Ed chuckled. “I love that. I’m in.”

[fairwinds-safetravels]

Currently really obsessed with worlds beyond number because

A) a very specific flavor of found family that just hits the spot just right

B) hits the sweet spot between critrole and Dimension 20 vibes

C) extremely good characters and worldbuilding

Anyways apparently people ship suvi and ame and like, yes but also no.

I think ame is queer forsuresies but I actually do not want any of the trio to date each other. At least, not in the direction the show seems to be going.

These pals give off like, deeply codependent qpr nonromantic life partner besties and I, personally, love that for them.

Ame gives off mm completely pan to me, ace spectrum possibly (I see ame as sex positive, queer, ace vibes because she seems to give off an air of having a different concept of attraction that isn't based on traditional physicality.....?)

Also, suvi honestly seems like a poly character (poly wizards seems normalized in the citadel) and she has two hands and can do what she wants. I think suvi and silver are cute and I don't see them having a super closed relationship, at least, not for a while...I think suvi deserves a girlfriend or like, girl crush too but it shouldn't be ame. I want suvi to crush on someone that isn't magical at all...now THAT would be very interesting to me. Contrasting her relationship with silver with a relationship with an extremely talented person that isn't magical and from the citadel originally? That would be storytelling gold.

I feel like one of the minority that actually likes silver because it creates this cool dichotomy where friendship is actually more important than someone's love interest and that is Cool and Fresh to me.

It's not like laudna and Imogen where they were besties but the tension was wildly visible from day 1 and they were both DEEPLY in denial about it.

Nah let the world's beyond trio be super important found family siblings. They love each other and would die for each other but it's not as simple as "we have crushes on each other and wanna date" and that's OK.

(You can still ship them though and that's valid)

[nothwell]

Please, good sir, could we have a crumb as to what you are working on now?

BTW Fiorenzo was quite the cake. The hurt/comfort hit perfect and their love was so so sweet!

Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I'm delighted to hear you enjoyed Fiorenzo.

And boy howdy do I have some crumbs for you. Right now I'm rotating three WIPs.

Fiorenzo 2: Social Consequences? For My Actions? It's More Likely Than You Think

Oak King Holly King III: Hey, Isn't It Shrike's Turn For Hurt/Comfort? :)

"vaguely Edwardian dark academia codependent mm romantasy" (working title: Found Prince, because it's inspired by my disappointment in The Lost Prince by Frances Hodgson Burnett).

The goal for National Novel Writing Month is to have a first draft of the dark academia thing done by the end of November. We'll see how it goes.

Thank you for reading!

[herstarburststories]

The devil at your door

Kinktober day 3: Demon

Suptober day 3: Demonic

Pairing: Demon!Dean x reader

A/N: This one goes for @holylulusworld's 10k celebration, my trope was Lovers to Enemies. Congrats again, hon! And this is also my piece for @hardcoresupernatural 's Halloween challenge with the prompt: I'm not scared of you.

@deanmonandnegansbitch's asked: Deanmon x Reader, he realizes no one could tame the marks hunger like she did. And yet he lost her by sticking his dick in other women

Warnings: dirty talk, mentions of boob fucking, hints of dark sexual, angst if you squint, teasing

CATCH UP KINKTOBER: Day 1 / Day 2

Spending his whole life in imaginary chains had frustrated Dean Winchester more than he was aware of. He’d always done what his dad taught him; kept himself from what he wanted in order to be the good soldier — the hero — even if it was against his own desires. 

Dean saved the world once or twice and didn't get a thank you, a break long enough to relax or even visit the beach for the first time. No, hunters were never kids. Hunters never had time for fun. Hunters were made to be hunting. He always found himself fighting winless battles and ending up drowned in whiskey and self-pity.

Now it was all gone. His old persona never had time to be human, so losing that side of him wasn't a big deal. If anything, he felt better now. Whatever his green eyes wanted, Dean would go and get it.

No barbed ward could contain a demon, much less the Knight.

At first, it was funny. Messing around with Crowley, fucking some good, new pussies after tasting only yours, and causing destruction whenever he felt like it.

Then the thrill expired. Honestly, the Winchester pictured it would last longer. Crowley started bitching around like a whiny little man and the new girls no longer could satisfy him — that is, if they ever did. Dean was pretty sure he liked them so much because the cat and mouse play of finding a new toy, but at some point, the cat gets enough of the foreplay and wants to eat the prey. They were so boring in all their humanly forms: they didn't have his stamina, they didn’t know his sweet spots, and they didn’t enjoy all the mischievous things he wanted to do.

Only painting his knuckles with an aleatory idiot's blood could get a real smile out of him these days. Nonetheless, even throwing punches gets exhausting when they stop fighting back.

Where was the fun of being free?

It clicked him like one of the worst sounds of tortured souls screams; you. 

You used to be the wild in Dean's heart during hunter days. You knew all the bad things he wanted to do, and you moaned in pleasure through them. You knew his body and yours like religion and shamelessly worshipped them.

When he finds himself at your door after leaving a woman who just wanted some vanilla sex in a cheap motel, it shouldn't have been a surprise. At least, it's not in his uniquely demonic brand of rationality. As you open the door, the look on your face tells him you agree with that. 

Or so his deranged mind said.

You crossed your arms, the angle exposing your cleavage more as you leaned against the rose-colored door that he helped you paint months ago.

Dean used to think this little apple pie life was so savage, something out of his reach that he’d only get to touch in case of a miracle, like caressing the fire only to get a feel for the burn. Now he can't help but scrunch up his nose, disgusted by domestic, urban pleasures.

“What do you want, Dean?” You looked him up and down, a humorless smile on your face. “Got tired of fucking everyone with a pair of boobs?”

“I'm more interested in your boobs, sweetheart.” Dean isn't put off by your sarcasm, countering with the same flirty tone that used to get you riled up all the time.

Isn't the past such a beautiful memory?

“Go find someone your species, Winchester.” You rolled your eyes and pulled away, pushing the door closed before Dean's foot interrupted you.

He faked a pout. “Wow. That's racist, Y/N. This demon’s got feelings, you know?”

His childish attitude heats your system. Only Dean, demon or not, could push your buttons and get on your nerves in a matter of seconds. You pushed the pink door fully open with enough strength to make it slam against the wall with a loud crack. Dean doesn't look affected, though. You furiously glare at his lopsided grin.

“Do you also have a brain? I told you to leave. Get lost.”

“Come on, baby girl. I know you miss my cock. What about a night to remember?”

Believing he was the man you once loved was getting harder with every word he said. Your body seemed to recognize him easier, aching for him like some kind of spell. All you had after Dean Winchester left was a longing body and fury.

“Do you really think I'm gonna let you in my house for a quick fuck like I'm one of your one night stands?”

Dean appeared to be considering it for a moment, eyes focused on anything but you. His lips pursed before he glanced at you with a malicious beam. “Yes. You always said I was the best sex you ever had. Why not get a bit of it? You already know you won't regret that, sweetheart.”

You studied him, picturing what would bring a man who ran away back to what used to be his home. Dean had left as soon as he became a demon, the only trace of his existence being a note addressed to Sam and pieces of your heart. When you and Sammy finally found the eldest Winchester, he made was certain to make sure that you were aware of his very active sex life. He’d tacked on that he'd kill Sam and you both if you tried to save him.

You let him run like water after this. The Winchesters might have that wondrous codependency, but you didn't need something like that in your life. Especially not with a demonic cheater and murder.

Your eyes were too wide to ignore the warning signs now. Yet, that didn't answer why he was in your doorway. If he wanted to be saved, he'd go for Sam and call you from there. If he wanted to kill you, he wouldn't spend time talking about fond memories. He didn't look like a lost puppy looking for shelter either. So, what the fuck was this green-eyed devil doing here?

Quietude thickened while you noticed Dean not seeming to notice your silence, his eyes too busy observing your breasts. Your Dean Winchester was always a boob man, and he was looking like he'd fuck your titties on your porch for all your neighbors to see. It certainly wouldn't be yours and his first time with public sex. Still, that wasn't the point: he was here, hair longer than usual and cock clearly starting to awaken in his jeans…

Because he had missed you.

You chortled in dismay, unable to discern whether he was kidding or not despite the bulge in his pants, and that glimmer in his eyes already confirmed your suspicions. You knew him.

The realization almost cheered up your soul. Your reasoning stopped you from collecting hopes about that demoniac form of a man. Dean was here for carnal desire, not love. He had sex with other women while you spent sleepless nights crying into his old shirts. He broke you as the monster that he was — he deserved to suffer.

You didn't care if your heart would be a little more broken, or you pussy a bit needier after that.

“You missed fucking me, Dean? Missed my tight pussy squeezing your cock? Maybe my mouth on it? Or how you got it between my boobs? Did you miss how I taste?” You took a step closer to him, making Dean lift his glare to your face again. 

He wore a cocky smirk as he answered, “Not as much as you missed me.”

Dean was right. Your body cried for him, and so did your soul. Who fucking cares? He didn't before, and you would not now.

“Liar.” The word rolled letter by letter off of your tongue. “I can take care of myself, even call a friend to do that, but you came back just because you can't forget how eating my pussy like a fucking feast feels like. Can you, sweetheart?”

You used that stupid nickname that he often gave people. You were very aware that it would irritate him, as it was laced with the implication of another man putting his hands on you.

Dean quickly grabbed your waist tightly, pulling you closer to him. He groaned. It was that fucking sound he made when something truly made him furious, and you knew your panties were gone. His eyes flashed into darkness that replaced his glistening greens, and for some calamitous reason, that turned you on.

“You better not have let anyone fuck what's mine, Y/N. I'd rip his throat in front of you and fuck you right next to his body,” he spits out jealously. His posture radiated that usual, alpha-esque tenseness that tumbled you two into angry, possessive sex so many times before.

“So jealous. I loved to tease you only to get you rough on me. Throwing me against the wall, going so hard inside my pussy that the bed broke, holding me hard enough to leave marks. You wanted for my bruises too, right? How I'd scratch your back, bite your collarbone, ruin your neck for everyone to see you were mine, but I guess what you really liked about me was that I was as hungry for you as you were for me. I would’ve let you do anything to my body, and I did. Because I wasn’t scared of you, Dean, and I’m not scared of you now either.” The way your arms compulsively wrapped around his neck made you wonder if you really wanted to strangle him or pull him closer. You could smell his manly cologne mixed with sulfur. It shouldn't make you want him more. Your knees shouldn't be begging to kneel for him and suck his cock. Be stronger. “You could come in, throw my clothes away and fuck my boobs with your dick instead of your eyes. Hurt me good enough to make me ask for more. But you know what?”

“Mm?” Dean's reply came in a hum as you pressed your hips against his, causing his clothed cock to rub on your belly. It was a tiny bit of relief — finally. He missed this so much: he couldn't wait to slip into your tight pussy.

“You won't.” Your lips brushed against his before you pulled away. His hands left your body from his surprise at your words. A wry smirk was wrung from your lips despite your wet pussy. “You stuck your dick into other women as soon as you became… whatever this is.” You scoffed, pointing at him with a feigned disgust in your eyes that you knew your body disagreed with. “Go have fun with your hand, Dean.”

A light rose painted door was ultimately closed in his face.

Leave a comment and reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my day 1&2 of kinktober and my masterlist ♡

Dean's sweetheart: @akshi8278 (dean taglist open)

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KINKTOBER TAGLIST: @psych0crybaby (NEW&OPEN)

WANNA BE TAGGED? SEND ME AN ASK OR DM.

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. CV

It was a love story from the very beginning

Gabe, the Sexologist Archangel

(13x20/13x21)

Hello my dears! I will talk today about a very interesting topic and how Gabriel's character was used as a reminder and also as a realization of angelic sexuality. Not just that, but a constant introspection to sexuality too for Dean.

Gabe as a reflection of Dean

First of all and before jumping to Gabriel sexy bones, let's talk about the way Dean was talking with his husband at the phone as he was scolding his little brother at the same time... I'm talking about episode 13x20, "Unfinished Business"...

[Dean’s on the phone with Cas]

DEAN: Yeah. No, we just got in. Mm-hmm.

DEAN, to SAM: What are you doing? Don't unpack.

SAM: Dude, we could be here for days.

DEAN: No. No. Hey, hell, no.

DEAN [again to Cas over the phone]: Hey -- No, not you. That's… Just call us when you get to Amarillo, all right?

[he disconnects his call]

Why am I pointing at this scene? Because when Dean realizes Castiel thought he was yelling to him, he immediately changed his body language and the tone of his voice became more sweet, almost intimate, as if he was saying: 'No, not you, babe." It looks like that and it sound like that. Just go rewatch that scene and die with me.

The encounter with Gabe

Gabriel will speak and behave as if he were showing future Dean, but also, will bring the sexual references.

Just a little thing over here to connect with my meta of hands and foreshadow, in the middle of the battle between the Nordic gods and the boys we had Sam touching his neck, as a foreshadow of they way he will die in episode 13x21.

Gif credit @myheartofmusic

DEAN: Whatever. What did they want with you?

GABRIEL: I killed their brother.

This is very meaningful because if we took the demigods as the angels and Gabriel talking about killing their brother, it's what Dean will do when he will kill Lucifer in 13x23.

While Gabriel was telling his story, Dean was the one imagining it. And how his mind went from porn stars to watch a man receiving a relaxing touching from a handsome black haired boy with a red ascot, related to Dean and his own bisexuality.

GABRIEL: Don't let anybody ever tell you you're just a pretty face.

[Dean frowns and shakes his head at that]

This is so cute, because Dean is listening to him as if Gabe was his teacher. He feels identify with Gabe story and words. Gabe is literally, a Destiel Sexologist.

GABRIEL: Oh. That top one? That is for the man with the plan, the architect of my torture, and my own personal public enemy numero uno. Their papa… Loki.

The big similitude between Gabriel's revenge on Loki for being his torture, and Dean's trying to find and kill AUMichael, for being his torture too, in 14x03, is noticeable.

Another important paralell is Gabe taking a new identity to hide, but, adopting Loki's shape by doing it. This is the same with AUMichael, who will take Dean and a woman's shape.

Another foreshadows...

Pay attention to Kevin's last words...

KEVIN: Michael doesn't want to kill you. He wants to break you. He said for me to tell you that, “Even if you win, you still lose.” I'm sorry.

This is what Michael will do with Dean. He will break him while releasing him at first, making him think he won, and then will possese him again in 14x09.

Dean going alone to kill Loki is Jack going alone to kill Michael.

But... Loki vs Gabe (played by the same actor, it means, the same two faces) as a foreshadow for AUCas vs Cas, but mostly, AUMichael vs Dean in Rocky's bar (14x10)

Now, it's time to see Angels can have active sexuality.

Jumping to episode 13x21...

Let's talk about Sammy's dream. And Castiel, the pizza man, giving Dean his pizza. Even when he ate 7 pieces.

Gif set credit @bennylafitte

7 is the number that will appear too on episode 15x10. And is symbolically talking about TRUTH. So, practically, Dean will have the truth from Castiel in 15x18!

But also the innuendo that comes with it... Because this episode will talk about angelic sexuality.

Grace and virility

A lot of points and scenes with sexual innuendo throughout the episode, because Gabe is here:

Gabe taking off his own grace could be related to masturbation, thanks to Castiel's hands gestures and Dean's reaction.

The little grace Gabe gives them to open the portal was related to Erection. Also Gabe following "the fall" of the rift with his own sword.

Gif set credit @sleepypanda27

His dialogue with Rowena as he read a book with a pipe on it, another sexual reference to erection.

The seduction after that between the red haired witch and the Archangel.

The "make out session or more" between Rowena and Gabe with it's consequences as they were caught: Dean is amazed, Sam is speechless and Castiel is ashamed (because the sacred oath).

The incident after they arrived to the AU, in which Gabe's face is on Castiel's crotch, a very gay scene for Dean's eyes. Which at first was staring at them with curiosity and suddenly in turned out into a gay panic mode.

Gif set credit @cath-avery

The triumph over the brother's pathological codependency (at least for now)

When Sam dies there was another scene writers tried to show how the pathologic codependency could be left behind. Castiel stops Dean who was heading to look after Sam. The angel said it was in vein because he was already dead and there was a mission: to find Mary and Jack.

The trust in Castiel won over the codependency between brothers. Even when it was a very controversial way to show it.

To Conclude:

Gabe's character introduction brought the idea of sexualization of grace and angels.

The idea of a sexual active Castiel blocked by the sacred oath and the introspection of Dean's bisexuality.

Hope you like this meta, see you in the next one!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weird-dorky-little-d @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @authorsararayne @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@destielle @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis @superduckbatrebel @2musiclover2 @madronasky @anon-non2 @cea1996 @lisafu02 @asphodelesauvage @destiels-canonahhhhhhhhhh

If you wanna be added or removed from this list just let me know.

If you wanna read the previous metas from this season here you have the links:

VOL. XCIII, XCIV, XCV, XCVI, XCVII, XCVIII, XCIX, C, CI, CII, CIII, CIV.

Buenos Aires, March 28 2021 3:20 PM

[sae-bae-ran]

First, I want to thank all the people who commented under my previous post and reassured me that yes, Saeran’s AE is indeed a bit confusing and getting the Good Ending isn’t as easy as it is in other routes. With that being said, I want to share my thoughts on the AE itself. Some major spoilers under the cut!

Hoo boy!

I haven’t been checking Tumblr or the MM app itself for a while now, so imagine my surprise when I saw a huge update with its description being “Ray’s (or did it say Saeran’s?) after ending has been added. I was a bit worried that it might be a lot like V’s AE - extremely expensive and not actually resolving some of the players’ major concerns, but Cheritz outdid themselves with the format of this one! 300 HG for almost 4 days packed with content is like a huge Black Friday deal that’s actually legit!

It honestly felt like we got a lot more content than usual. There was a Story Mode after pretty much every chatroom. All the calls were packed with a ton of options. Outgoing calls with the the man of the hour, Saeran himself, happened a lot more often than what I’m used to with other characters in their own routes. I haven’t counted how many new CGs we got, but boy oh boy were there many of them and were they gorgeous to look at! So yeah, execution was handled perfectly.

I won’t be analyzing any of the characters, because I don’t think I’m good at it. I’ll just stick to what I felt about them as I navigated my way through the many Bad Ending traps in the AE.

Saeran’s characterization pretty much aligned with most of the HCs I’ve had about him. He is still in the early stages of dealing with trauma caused by many years of neglect and abuse, so I guess it’s natural for him to be so completely devoted to the one who helped him regain his freedom. I’m not worried about him becoming codependent on the MC, because he’s started to have dreams of his own and he did work for Jumin for a while there.

I’m a bit sad that we didn’t get some Choi twins bonding time, but I guess that leaves more room for HCs and maybe... a birthday DLC? Whooa, imagine that!! But still, a short and touching reunion CG/chat/Story Mode would’ve been nice.

I really can’t tell if I’m okay with their dad’s plotline or not. Up until the very end I didn’t feel anything about him as a character. He might have been the agency’s boss and I’d still feel the same about him. In my mind, he was just another tool to highlight Saeran’s transformation.

V and Rika... I don’t even wanna talk about them. What even was that? What happened to them?

Vanderwood was a breath of fresh air. I felt like I could chat with him for hours. We did get some breadcrumbs about his life and I wonder if we’d ever get some Vandy content. Maybe not a full-blown route, but a DLC?

It was a bit shocking to see how this AE took the main cast’s future plans from their Good Endings in a completely different direction. Jumin is now a politician with loyal Jaehee having his back. Yoosung’s dream to become a vet pretty much didn’t even exist in this timeline. I’m a bit sad that RFA basically doesn’t even exist anymore, but hey, I think we can all agree that the organization needs a fresh start and some serious revamping.

Overall, I’m quite satisfied with Saeran’s AE. And how could I not be after seeing the GE CG...

We will probably never get an ending that would be satisfying for all the characters. Even before Another Story was released, I often fantasized about such an ending - an ending where the twins are healthy and happy and working on rebuilding their relationship; an ending where Jumin learns what true love is; an ending where Jaehee gets to make her dream about owning a cafe come true... You get my point. But happiness can come in many forms. Just because Yoosung is not a vet anymore doesn’t mean he won’t be happy making sweets in Paris. In the end, I just want them all to be healthy and happy on their own terms.

So, Cheritz - a huge thank you for this wonderful Christmas present! 🌻🌻🌻

[dalygrace]

@evcravens said: 🔆 + the one where ev goes feral or the one where grace is chill  featuring heavy mentions of @catherinedaly 

Everett exits his bathroom, scrubbing a towel through his still-wet hair. Grace, from her position sprawled across his bed, has a perfect view of the exact moment he realizes there is another person in the room, startling so hard at the sight of her that he drops the towel.  Instinct has him grasping for a weapon she knows he does not have on him, stopping a split second later when he recognizes her. “Grace? When - what?” He stammers. “When did you get here? I didn’t hear the door open.”

“That’s because I didn’t come in through the door,” Grace retorts, and Everett frowns. 

“I don’t want to know, do I?” He sighs, the weariness in his tone as much due to her antics as it is the comedown from the adrenaline spike the scare gave him. “I gave you a key for a reason, Grace. So you would use it.”

Grace just shrugs and flops back onto the bed, tracing a spiderweb crack in the ceiling as she tries to ignore the way that Everett’s frown deepens when she doesn’t argue back. She can hear him puttering around, picking up the discarded towel and getting something from the dresser. He leaves a pause for her, as if she’ll pick up their usual mode after a beat or two, before continuing a bit hesitantly when she remains silent. “Not that it’s not good to see you, but why are you here? If you needed something you could have called.”

“Mm,” Grace intones flatly, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. Why had she come? It seemed so flippant now, to have been so unsettled over a simple conversation that she sought out comfort in another person instead of simply taking it in stride. “Papa’s been talking about Catia -” she starts, then stops, suddenly unable to say it. This, she realizes, was why she’d come - the knowledge that he would understand even when she couldn’t get her words out. Louis Daly had been hinting at this for months now, subtle nudges to her youngest sister that the Capulet-Daly legacy Grace had begun would extend to her as well. It wasn’t a surprise to Grace, but something had hit differently the last time he’d brought it up, something shifting inside Grace until she felt like she would tear herself apart seeking the center of her discomfort before she could understand it. So she’d broken into Everett’s apartment, seeking out the thrill of the act and the comfort she knew he alone could bring. Maybe it was unbefitting of a woman her age - twenty eight and still clinging to their childhood friendship like a lifeline, often feeling like a child herself when she turned to him - but he was the only person she knew who would understand.

The soft sounds of Everett moving through the room have ceased, but she cannot bring herself to look up at him. “Papa’s been talking to Catia about the Capulets,” she starts again, breath leaving her in a rush, “and she seems - amenable.” Grace frowns, picking at a loose thread in Everett’s bedspread. She can feel his eyes on her, a soft, steadying weight. “I worry about her,” she says simply, the breadth of the discomfort warring in her chest impossible to put into words. “She’s still so young, and I - I worry.”

“I know Regina’s young too but she’s always been...” She trails off, waving a hand. Everett makes a small sound of agreement and Grace finally looks up, meeting his eyes. She wonders what he can see on her face, if he can tell how hard it is for her to wrench these words from their place in her heart. “Catia - she’s not like Gina - she’s not like me.” The unspoken words hang heavy in between them, the weight of countless arguments borne from the moment Grace first held a gun, from the way she took to this life and the blood on her hands without faltering. It was easier for her than most to take another’s life, but she tried - for Everett’s sake, if not for the sake of her own soul - to not get dragged under by the sickly sweet thrill of it. 

Before her now, Everett frowns, undoubtably following her down this distracted path of thought. It was uncanny sometimes, how easy it was for him to read her, for her to do the same. Codependent, Raf had called them once, her words not without a trace of irony, before swallowing Grace’s laugh with a kiss. It was moments like these where she saw the weight in such statements, knew that she had been lucky to be born as she had been, with inquisitive four-year-old Everett waiting, twin soul ready to be bound hers the moment Simona deposited her into his arms. “I know,” he says simply, and the ball of emotions expands in her chest, painful and good in equal measure. She looks back down at her hands before rolling back to lie slumped across his bed once more. 

“You’ll protect her, right?” She says quietly to the ceiling, the words ripping a hole through the last tentative barrier she held between her and the mess inside. She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, ignores the heat prickling behind them. She feels rather than sees Everett settle beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight as he finds space against the awkward angle of her body. Grace stays where she is, limp, ignoring the hitching of her breath, desperate to stop the sobs that threaten to shake their way out of her. She’d known since Regina pledged herself to the Capulets last year, following the path Grace had laid so many years before, that Catherine would one day walk into this darkness as well. It was all she could do to believe that Catia’s light would stay bright, would hold the grasping shadow hands from twisting her beyond recognition like they had done to Grace. She did not want her sister to look in the mirror and find herself unable to recognize the person that looked back at her, the one whose hands were stained bloody and who didn’t mind it as much as she probably should. 

It isn’t until she feels Everett’s hand in her hair, calmly brushing the tangled strands away from her face that she realizes she’s been vocalizing these concerns. She pushes the air from her lungs in a harsh huff, snaps her mouth shut too hard, jarring her jaw. “Of course I will,” Everett says calmly, like he hasn’t just witnessed her losing her mind for a brief moment, like she hasn’t cracked open up her ribs and bared her heart to him. She is suddenly intensely grateful for him, for the level of tact that comes with his aristocratic breeding, something that never quite stuck with her. The ball of emotions flares again and she flings herself into him, burying her face in his chest. She can feel him tense beneath her, though she can’t tell if that’s in response to their sudden closeness or the tears that are now soaking his shirt, and then he’s moving, shifting to his side to pull her close and tuck her up against his chest.

Later, when Grace has cried herself dry, they lie there quietly, Everett still rubbing comforting circles into her back as her breathing slowly returns to normal. Grace feels like she’s been hollowed out, left empty by the pressing sense of dread that had compelled her here. She focuses on their points of contact, on the warmth of Everett’s body where it’s bracketing her, and counts her breaths until he breaks the silence. “You’ll be able to protect her too, you know,” he says, and she can feel the rumbling of his voice through her where she’s pressed up against his chest. “She’s lucky to have you looking out for her.”

His words are simple but something catches in the hollow of her chest, a small fire radiating warmth and light. “Thank you,” she whispers, and he laughs. “You don’t have to thank me for the truth,” he replies, smile evident in his voice, and Grace smiles too, softly, into his chest. 

[mittensmorgul]

9.13, The Purge.

DONNA!

And again, we have another interspecies romantic couple, wherein another memeber of one of their families is bitter and angry and ready to tear down the whole peaceful, loving relationship and everything the couple has built together (9.11 had Cain and Colette who were destroyed by Abaddon in revenge, and 9.12 had Bess and Garth... not necessarily interspecies once Garth became a werewolf, but monster love in a human way, almost destroyed by Bess' stepmother for revenge). Now we have a relatively benign monster, who with the love of her human husband found a way to not only survive, but to thrive AND benefit humanity in the process, destroyed by the gluttony of her monstrous brother.

(huh, it just occurred to me that that covers Wrath, Pride, and Gluttony... I guess Vesta covered Lust, Metatron's pretty much got Greed wrapped up I mean... he wanted Heaven for himself. where's Envy and Sloth? this is irrelevant rambling I just loled at myself for...)

While I'm already wandering around pointlessly, please enjoy this commentary free quote:

SAM: Any idea what the vic weighed beforehand? OFFICER: 165 DEAN: So...180. Known fact -- all women lie about their weight and age. SAM: Wait, you told that waitress the other day you were 29. DEAN: Mm-hmm.

(okay I lied, there's commentary-- Dean was right, she was 180 according to the scale, so...)

Here have another:

DEAN: [smirking] Nice shorts. SAM: [quickly shoots back] Nice hairnet. DEAN: Yeah, why do I got to be the lunch lady? SAM: Since when have you ever complained about being around food? DEAN: Okay, this is not food. [Another kitchen staffer named ALONSO gets DEAN's attention.] ALONSO: Hey, new guy. Quit flirtin' with the trainer and keep scoopin', huh?

(because how does that look to an outsider? Like Dean's flirting with Sam and Sam is not reciprocating... he doesn't tell Sam not to flirt)

Unfortunately, Donna accidentally "outs" Sam to the human husband of the pishtaco as a hunter, and he tries to confront her brother on his own, far too trusting because he's supposedly "family." Meanwhile, Dean's unwittingly discovered how they prepare the patients for their fat suctioning... by eating some of the drugged pudding, salted caramel-- the best of both worlds, salty and sweet, and collapsing on a bag of sweet potatoes in the storage closet he's gone to hide in to eat his contraband pudding... (he's supposed to be setting a good example for the spa guests by eating the healthy food, not the one treat in the whole place). And just one look at the "supplements," and Dean recognizes them as roofies.

Family drama, monster style. because the Winchesters are still struggling with their own family drama:

SAM: Wait, Dean. We're not gonna kill Maritza. DEAN: She's a monster. SAM: Yeah, who saved our asses. DEAN: You said that you wanted to keep things strictly business. Well, last I checked, we were in the business of killing monsters. SAM: I wanted to keep things strictly business between us. But I still have a heart. What if I had crossed paths with a hunter back when I was possessed by Gadreel? I could've ended up dead, too. Would I have deserved that? Would I have deserved to die? DEAN [gives up the argument seeing it is a losing battle]: So, one-way ticket to Peru?

And to a degree, Dean’s just being extra-literal here for the sake of making his point. But in another respect, we are also starting to see the beginnings of the Mark of Cain’s effect on him, too, which probably isn’t helping anything either. At the beginning of this episode, he admitted to Sam he wasn’t sleeping, which is always a bad sign...

But also? Dean spends a good bit of words at the end of the episode explaining his position. The whole final scene of this episode is the codependency on display in painful fashion-- the fact that Dean is SHOCKED to discover that Sam wouldn’t have done the same to save Dean that Dean did without THINKING to save Sam, because Dean doesn’t realize he behaves more like Sam’s parent than his brother. The fact that Sam doesn’t understand why Dean saved him because he thinks it’s just because Dean doesn’t want to be alone, but hooooboy it’s so much more than that, going back to 1.01 when Dean was four and was charged with the Sacred Duty Of Protecting Sam that became his life’s mission (when anything less was failure and literally rejection by John, as we saw in 9.07). But neither of them understand this divide, and it’s only getting worse right now.

Sam actually saying to Dean that he’ll make sacrifices as long as it’s not him getting hurt, and HECK Sam, have you actually ever been paying attention here? Dean effectively sacrificed his entire damn life for you, and you don’t think that hurt him at all? YIKES. I know he’s feeling betrayed here, but... YIKES.

heck I don’t think it really starts to get better until late s11, and then only slowly...

under a cut, because it’s a long bit of dialogue for reference:

DEAN About what you said the other day. SAM [with an "I knew it" face] I thought it didn't bother you. DEAN [softly]: You know, Sam, I saved your hide back there. And I saved your hide at that church... And the hospital. I may not think things all the way through. Okay? But what I do, I do because it's the right thing. I'd do it again. SAM: And that... is the problem. You think you're my savior, my brother, the hero. You swoop in, and even when you mess up, you think what you're doing is worth it because you've convinced yourself you're doing more good than bad... But you're not. [DEAN's blank eyes stare at him] I mean, Kevin's dead, Crowley's in the wind. We're no closer to beating this angel thing. Please tell me, what is the upside of me being alive? DEAN [shocked]: You kidding me? You and me -- fighting the good fight together. SAM [sighing in frustration almost leaves but then decides to explain. He come into the kitchen and sits down across from DEAN, who draws back unconsciously] Okay. Just once, be honest with me. You didn't save me for me. You did it for you. DEAN [totally confused] What are you talkin' about? SAM: I was ready to die. I was ready. I should have died, but you... You didn't want to be alone, and that's what all this boils down to. You can't stand the thought of being alone. DEAN [drawing back and standing up] All right. SAM: I'll give you this much. You are certainly willing to do the sacrificing as long as you're not the one being hurt. DEAN: All right, you want to be honest? If the situation were reversed and I was dying, you'd do the same thing. SAM [very softly]: No, Dean. I wouldn't. [He looks up and meets DEAN's shocked eyes.] Same circumstances...I wouldn't. I'm gonna get to bed.

[akatdollie]

SasoThird Verses.

The first of many ship-specific AU lists. Rip mun.

Under a cut to add more later.

Canon Divergent, Through a Looking Glass, Darkly. A tale of a loyal shinobi who goes through extreme lengths to protect what is his. While described somewhat positively in this ask here, it’s really delves into the meaning of art as Sasori defines it, messing with stalker-ish themes. He integrates himself into the Third’s life and fosters codependency between them, all while struggling with the question: to kill or not to kill? (He opts not to.)

Canon Divergent, Modus Operandi—Euthanasia Alt. It is my headcanon that males of the Kazekage line are cursed to die before the age of 40. Knowing this, and that his time is running short, the Third requests Sasori convert him into a puppet before his time is up. I have written some scenes from this AU here, which explores an additional what-if? Scenario in the event that the Third Kazekage was resurrected in the Fourth Shinobi war—and went to find his killer. (Don’t get excited; it is very short.)

Modern Verse—Doctor Alt. Sasori falls in love with the coma patient from Room 333 and decides to forge his death certificate and take him home. Said coma patient, against all odds, wakes up—without memories. Lucky Sasori. The stranger, limited by his own savior/captor, struggles to discover who he really is, while Sasori manufactures a life they have spent together. He again falls in love with the man he’s imprisoned—and eventually grows to regret what he has done.

Canon Divergent, Same Age AU—Scorpion. It’s sickeningly sweet and I love it. The Third is born a generation later. He and Sasori grow up as childhood friends, after the young noble spots Sasori mourning his parents. Due to his youth, Third is unable to become Kazekage until after a devastating defeat in the Second Shinobi war. The two may or may not be captured by enemies for a time.

Canon Divergent, Same Age AU—Leo. Developed with the Third of @satetsukaiho in particular. Sasori is born a generation earlier, and is Chiyo’s son. She is killed in battle, and Sasori goes to live with relatives—puppeteers that travel along the desert wastelands, looking for villages to swindle and merchants to pillage. They are eventually hunted down by the Kazekage’s forces. Sasori, leader of the caravan, surrenders in return for a favor—but he never says what the favor is. Damn that trickster.

Post-Apocalyptic Verse, Puppet Alt. Third is an incredibly obedient robot based on the skills and appearance of a once dead politician; Sasori is the misanthrope who loves him. He is, also, a little bit nuts. They both are. Something prideful may be haunting this electronic shell. Something horrible. But that’s why we love them, mm? (Private RP only.)

Not really verses but underdeveloped ideas:

*

The Stranger — An unknown waiter is happy to keep a businessman company, until he is asked to join him for dinner.

Dr. Frankenstein — Sasori builds himself a boyfriend, and immediately regrets it. (Damn you Ryozen.)

Angels & Demons — an archangel is torn from heaven and forced to serve an incubus who doesn’t particularly care for sex.

Obligatory Ghost AU — the one where a husband haunts his widow and for once it isn’t Sasori’s fault, much.

*

And that’s all, folks! (For now.)

Feel free to send more into my inbox!

[themiddlelayer]

Maybe I AM the crazy one here

No.. definitely. I’m definitely the crazy one and it’s exhausting. 

Java Bear and I had a long talk about where he was and what had been going on with him all week. He totally validated my feelings and apologized for not reaching out sooner. He continues to reinforce how good he actually is at communication and clearly stated that if there is ever any doubt in my mind of my importance in his life that I should look at my keychain. Giving me a key to the house really IS a big thing. 

He also said that if I’m not sure about what’s going on with him or am afraid that he may be shutting down on me that I should always just reach out and let him know what I’m feeling... and if I’m not able to do that, that I can and should talk to Olive about it. The GF/metamour line is a touchy one, but she’s continued to show support for the communication between us about Java Bear. 

This weekend was more of that validation of my place in their life and just how much they care about me.

MM had a scare on Friday morning. He was having chest pains bad enough that he had a co-worker take him to the clinic because he was afraid it was a heart attack. They said it wasn’t but because of the symptoms, his health and family history they still sent him to the ER via ambulance. I ended up passing my class to another instructor and drove the hour to be with him. Once they had him in a room I had Cookie come help with getting my car home so I could get MM and his car home after they discharged him. 

The fucked up thing was on the way down I found myself wishing I still had Gypsy and Nomad there to help like they did with the last ER run when MM was losing feeling in his legs. That stirred up all kinds of crap for me, but I put on the wife face and just did what needed to be done. 

MM kept saying that he felt guilty about possibly ruining my plans to go to Phoenix so after doing dinner with Cookie and driving home I finished packing and left around 9:15pm. 

Olive was up painting a wall and Java Bear was out at a birthday thing for his buddy when I got there. She and I got a couple hours to just hang out before he got home and we all eventually went to bed. 

The alcohol had Java Bear feeling all kinds of frisky and Olive’s functioning uterus had her in the same place. But her functioning uterus meant that despite the desire being there, we all stopped short of PIV and eventually attempted to sleep. 

I say attempted to sleep because not long after finding my underwear Java Bear started to whimper in his sleep and twitch while he was holding me. It wasn’t his usual purr/growl thing but something sad, scared... I said something to Olive and we realized that he was having night terrors. I narrowly missed catching an elbow in the initial flailing before we sandwiched him and held him tight enough that he couldn’t swing his arms around anymore. It was a rough night but better that the first time I saw it was at their place with Olive there to show me how to handle him when it happens. 

Java Bear got up around 5am and Olive and I slept until after 9am. Her kiddo was playing video games with Java Bear when I came out. Java Bear and I did a grocery run and then they cooked up a big brunch with pancakes, fresh fruit and eggs. It was just a normal “family” kind of morning. 

Eventually we decided that naps needed to happen. Olive wanted to touch up the wall she’d painted so Java Bear and I curled up. There was more sexual tension but Java Bear had told me that they hadn’t christened the new bed and that Olive wasn’t okay with the two of us having sex there first. I TOTALLY understood where she was coming from so we did our best to behave. 

We’d had a talk the night before in the throes of sexy time when we both said that we weren’t ready to watch the other with Java Bear. It was different with all of us involved but with her being on her period it just wasn’t practical or really do-able. 

Olive came up to bed after giving the boy something to keep him occupied. The same tension was there with the three of us in bed and I got to the point where I just asked where the dark towels were and told her, “Please fuck your husband. You can take the kiddo out for a bit after dinner and he and I can have some time.” She objected a bit but I was pretty sure they were still going to have sex while I was downstairs with my headphones on, chatting with friends. I was totally fine with it and just relieved that the tension would dissipate.

Maybe an hour later they came down and told me that they’d been talking the entire time. They told me that didn’t want to impose any “couple’s privilege” on me and that Olive was going to take the the kiddo for a walk to go get a movie so Java Bear and I could have some time. I about burst into tears... good tears. I continued to assure Olive that I totally understood how she felt and thanked her for understanding where I was... spending most nights alone and knowing I won’t get to see either of them for at least 2 more weeks. 

Java Bear and I totally took advantage of the time but I was sure to be downstairs fully dressed when Olive got home. I also made the bed up, opened the window, turned the fan on and sprayed air freshener in the bedroom. We had both showered and were talking about dinner when they got back. The kiddo stood outside the door and they asked me to close my eyes. He had seen a stuffed husky while they were shopping and because I’d talked about my husky at breakfast he insisted they buy it for me as my Valentine. Could that be any stinking cuter?!? 

We decided on take-out poke for dinner and I stayed in my jammies and waited in the jeep while they went in to get it. The rest of the night was more of the awesome... cheesy kids movie, dinner, then Java Bear and I watched the latest Grey’s Anatomy while Olive did some meal prep. How I managed to not fall apart completely during that episode is totally beyond me. Ben and Bailey had been “on a break” and they got back together. Their separation was heartbreaking. Their reconciliation was equally emotional. And yes, I know.. fictional characters.. but it really hit home with some of the things MM has said to me lately. 

MM and I had our ‘therapy’ night on Wednesday and he talked about how he thought it would be ‘just us’ after the quad imploded. Thursday after my emotional day over Java Bear’s post he asked if I wanted anything from the grocery store and I asked him to grab me some salmon. He had plans to go out to a game night and was going to change and turn around but while I was finishing my paperwork, he got home and put my salmon on the grill. It was just one more example of him showing how much he loves me and wants to keep trying. 

I’m tearing up just writing that.

I don’t know how to go back. I don’t know how to unring these bells. Part of me wants to just cut everyone else out of my life and go back to monogamy, but I know that MM’s relationship with Pixie is still in a good place, and my relationships with Java Bear and Olive are awesome. I feel so loved and valued and wanted there. At least, I SEE how loved and valued and wanted I am there. That’s where I’m struggling right now. 

I had a meltdown on the drive home thinking about the moment when we were all in bed together fooling around. I was the center of attention but all I could think was, “Is this my life? Is this really what I want? How did I get here?” I started spinning, feeling like a lot of what I’ve been doing hasn’t been out of choice but out of a need to make the best of a bad situation. 

Polyamory made it so that MM and I could view our marriage as evolving rather than ending when we got to a certain point in the quople where we knew that we had become disconnected. Truth be told, we were struggling to stay connected before the quad... Poly made it so that we can still love each other and be partners but have our other needs met elsewhere because I’m not ready to really get all the way back in. But the longer we do this, the less I see the possibility of getting back to who we were in any way. That breaks my heart. 

The worst part of it all is this sense of being unable to feel the good. It’s that ‘taste of blue’ thing. Most people, if they are lucky, are raised being fed blue things so that they have a clear, natural understanding of what blue tastes like. People like me... we see blue, we know what it looks like and hear the rest of the world talk about how sweet it is. We recognize the blue things but don’t have that immediate understanding when it’s in our mouths that, yes.. this is BLUE. Not a blue thing but blue. Does that make any sense? 

My crazy is still really flowing and I can’t imagine that the whiskey is the cause after this many days. I’m hungry and tired. I made myself oatmeal and coffee and ran the towels that Olive said she wanted to wash this weekend before doing the drive back. From there I spent a couple hours doing Friday’s paperwork and coloring Cookie’s hair. MM is at a game night at Pixie’s today so I likely won’t see him until later, assuming I’m still up when he gets home. 

I’m trying to prep for tomorrow’s class because it’s one I haven’t taught in months and I’ve got a really big group. I know I need to make myself some real food and put the clean sheets on the bed. I need a hot shower and will probably be in bed early. I’m trying to take care of myself, really... I think this is what it looks like. Writing, eating, sleeping, maybe doing more reading in the Codependency book... I just feel so tired and empty right now. 

[just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms]

Sanity is Relative Chapter 2

Catch up on Chapter 1 

Characters: Darby, Ema, Sam, and Dean Word count: 3,000

Written by: @uttertrash--butlikecutetrash and @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms 

Darby

It was loud in the common room. People moaning, screaming, having very loud conversations with themselves. I’ve read the same line in this shitty book at least 5 times. I was getting ready to give up when I saw them walk in. The Winchesters.

Dean swaggered in with that stupid cocky grin and far too much confidence for the place where he was currently residing. Sam shuffled in behind his brother. His shoulders were slumped and he looked tired. They sat together at a table not far from me. I kept my nose in my book and pretended to read as I eavesdropped on the two.

“All I’m asking from you Dean is a little effort,” Sam sighed as they sat down, “just a minimal amount.”

“Sammy, we don’t belong in here,” Dean leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, “you made it sound like this little excursion was for a hunt. You didn’t say we were checking into the funny farm for actual help.”

A hunt? What the fuck does he mean? What kind of hunting could you possibly do in a place like this? Perhaps Dean was a bit more off his rocker than I initially anticipated.

Sam leaned over the table to his brother, his voice was low and commanding, ”This is for a hunt. I just…. I need this Dean. I’m not in a good place mentally. And if we are being honest here, neither are you. I think we need this. ”

Dean scoffed, “That comes with the job, man. This isn’t an easy life. None of us are in a good place mentally. With what we see everyday.”

“No.” Sam said as he slammed his fist on the table. The room quieted in an instant, all eyes on him. He gave a sheepish smile to the crowd and turned back to his brother. “It’s more than that.”

Dean ran his hands down his face before he spoke again. “Fine. You need help. I get it. But I am perfectly—“

“You have PTSD that you are self medicating with alcohol, so don’t you even try to bullshit me.”

I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. It was too good to hear Sam call out Dean like that. The brothers looked at me and I giggled a bit more.

“What’s so funny?” Dean asked with a raised brow.

“Your brother calling you out like that was highly satisfying,” I smiled and walked to the table. I sat down, putting my elbows on the table and propping my chin on my fists I continued as I glanced between them, “Also, you two codependent as fuck. No wonder you aren’t allowed to be in group together.”

Dean furrowed his brow then and pursed his lips slightly at the word ‘codependent’.

“P.S. what do you mean by ‘a hunt’?”

They both sat up a bit straighter, obviously taken aback by the question.

Sam scratched at the back of his head, “How much of our conversation did you actually hear?”

“All of it. You don’t talk as quietly as you think you do.”

“Good to know.”

“Yeah totally, so about that hunt thing….”

“You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.” Dean answered as he leaned in closer to me.

I followed his lead and leaned in closer to him, our faces mere inches apart. His freckles looked like the most fantastic nebula strewn across his nose and cheeks.

I stared into his eyes unblinking as I spoke, “You’re right. I probably won’t. This is a funny farm after all.” Dean sat upright again, his face slack. Apparently, he wasn’t expecting that.

“He didn’t mean it like that,” Sam interjected.

I turned to him with a shrug, “I don’t really care how he meant it, it’s true. I don’t know what your flavor of crazy is.”

“And what’s your flavor of crazy?” Dean leaned in close to me again. This time a blonde orderly cleared his throat. We looked over at him and he motioned for us to make space.

I sat back and smiled. “Major Depressive Disorder. Anxiety. And of course, suicidal tendencies. You know, the fun shit.” I picked a little at my bandages as I continued, “I was out for a whole 6 months before I tried to off myself again. That’s a personal best for me.”

“And her?” Sam asked pointing across the room. I followed his finger to Ema. She was sitting there staring off into space again. “What’s hers?”

“Ema?” I shrug, “I dunno, girl is an enigma wrapped in a mystery.”

“How so?”

A slow mischievous smiled spread across my lips, “You sweet on her Sammy?”

His cheeks burned a bit pink, “No. Just curious.”

I nodded slowly not believing him. After all Ema was cute. She was short and curvy. Also had some of the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. She could probably fit in Sam’s pocket but that isn’t the point I guess.

“She’s been here for about 2 years now. I see her every day but I never talk to her. All I know is she was dating this guy and he died or left her or something. Anyway she went into a catatonic stupor for a few days and it landed her here.”

Ema blinked as if waking up and surveyed the room. When her eyes fell on the table the boys and I were sitting at she gave us a sheepish smile. Sam smiled wide, sweet grin. Dean gave her a nod. I however stood up and walked over to her.

“You can have my seat,” I told her as I glanced at the table and then back at her, “I’m going to head to the art therapy room.”

Ema looked at the table and then back to me and then back to the table, utterly confused. I just gave her a wink and wandered out of the common room. But before I left I turned to see Dean drag his eyes up my frame, that stupid grin returning to his lips. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to punch him him or kiss him. Probably both, but mostly it was punch.

Instinctively I navigated through the halls to my own personal sanctuary: the art therapy room. No matter what state I am in art always brings me peace. Most people who have tried to kill themselves would lose the privilege of art therapy for a few months. Too many pointed objects.

But for me, I’m encouraged to paint during my suicidal moments. The shrinks here figured out long ago that to keep me happy was to keep me painting.

As I made it to the room the art teacher Lisa was about to lock the door. She stopped when she saw me.

“Back again I see.” She smiled.

Nodding I smile back, “I need to let off a little steam.”

She opened the door for me and I walked passed her. “I’ll let an orderly know you are in here. There is an iPod in the top drawer of my desk. I know you like to Beethoven while you work.”

“Mozart,” I corrected, “I like to listen to Mozart.”

“Mm yes, that’s it. Well, I’ll see you around,” she smiled and shut the door leaving me to set up.

As the music filled the room I closed my eyes and exhaled. A calm washed over me and I began to paint. My canvas was all black. I was putting red slices of color across. It was something I was good at. Red slices on my canvas, red slices on my skin. The only art I knew how to make was bloody and painful but beautiful all at once.

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

Ema

Darby walked away and I felt like I was frozen. She wanted me to go sit with Sam and Dean. Why the hell would I go do that? With my anxiety? Puh-lease. No way in hell. Sitting back in my chair I focused on a ray of light creeping through the window between the shades. My eyes slowly closed as the warmth spread over my face. Breathing slowly as I centered my mind, I could begin.

Strength and power filled my soul. I felt my muscles relax as I slipped into my true role. Ema, the white light healer, was ready to commune with the universe. The bright aura’s of the spirit world called out to me. I was brought to the particular spirit of a goddess that had reached out to me many times before. She never revealed her name though. She always came to me to bring me good news. I raised my hands up to her, palms up, to accept her energy. Her soothing voice spoke through my soul. “Breathe my child. Calm and balance will be coming to you. Do not be discouraged by your trials. Know that they will bring you to a much better ending.”

I breathed in slowly, ensuring her words stuck with me. I brought my hands back to the table and let my mind wander over the many things that needed help in our room. Many of the souls I had felt before and knew them well. But there were new energies that needed to be received. A dark, angry, painful energy radiated from my right. I could feel the torture and blame that settled in this particular soul. All they wanted was inner peace, but the path to lead them there scared them more than their troubled past. I made a mental note to find this person and heal them with my warm light.

The next energy to enter my sphere was one that I knew well. It mirrored mine. Lost, confused, in search of true healing not just mentally but spiritually. This person had suffered many deep, profound losses. They wished for calm, and closure. Just like I had when I lost Matthew. This person, their heart tried desperately to repair itself, but the past and the present were making that nearly impossible.

I breathed deeply again, and found my voice to call out to the universe. “Let your powers and healing spirits work through me. Guide me to the magical healing that will bring these people peace. This magical healing only you can give me. Their souls called to me, so I must answer. Give me the strength to heal them, and make them whole again.”

When I opened my eyes, the sunlight was no longer on my face. I blinked several times, coming out of my inner self, and found Sam standing in front of me. “Are you okay?” He looked genuinely concerned for me, but also interested. “You started raising your hands and mumbling stuff. Did you have a seizure or something?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “No, not at all. I was just...thinking, in a very intense way. You can sit down if you want to.” Sam hesitated for a moment before taking the chair. As he sat down he bumped my table, knocking over my water bottle. As we both reached for it, our hands brushed and his energy bombarded my senses. He was the one. The one that had a soul similar to mine.

“How long ago did you lose her?”

Sam froze, his eyes showed both horror and shock. He couldn’t find his words for nearly a minute, but he finally cleared his throat. “I...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do. You lost her, and you never forgave yourself. It wasn’t your fault though, we all agree. It was destined to be part of your story. A horrific part, yes, but also one that lead to many greater paths that contained more power.” Sam squinted his eyes at me and I knew he had noticed when I said ‘we’ instead of ‘I’. “Don’t be afraid Sam. We are peaceful and I’m here to help. Just let yourself talk about her. It will be painful, but it will help.”

Sam pushed away from the table. “I need to go find Dean. Stay away from me okay? Stop talking about me in your schizo head. You got that?” The people around me all stared as the angry man stomped out of the room. His brother turned to go after him, but paused a second to give me a stern and angry glare. Closing my eyes, the energy had shifted. It was cold and dark, not troubled and multi-layered like it usually was in the day room.

I looked to the table next to me, where the boys had sat, and I smiled. They were going to be my next focus, I could feel it. Their stories, they needed to be told. They needed to hear that someone truly cares and understands. I had been right about Dean’s energy though. It was familiar to me in so many ways, and then it hit me. His energies met Darby’s almost perfectly.

Rising from my table I surveyed the room. Each familiar person had the same energies they held before. The universe communed with me briefly, and I headed to my room to rest. It was time to put the magic power aside, and let the other worlds take over for a time. As I walked down the hallway I heard Mozart coming from an activity room. I went to the door and peeked in to find Darby painting. Every time I saw her it was the same painting. Black canvas, and bloody slashes. Closing my eyes I chose to feel one more energy. I pressed my hands to the window, and it hit me. The torment, the inner horrific conflict, the loss, and the unimaginable pain.

It took everything in me to not open that door. She needed to let that pain out in some way. That much darkness cannot be contained easily. The portals to let it out unfortunately drove her to the mutilation, but I couldn’t blame her for it. No matter how low and lost I’d gotten, I never knew the kind of pain that leads to that form of release. At least now, Darby was painting and expressing. Her body had time to heal until the next time, but for right now, at least she was safe.

Just as I was taking my hands off to the glass of the door window, I opened my eyes and screamed. Darby was right there, her eyes glaring down at me. I started to back away slowly, waiting for my back to hit the wall of the other side of the hall, but it felt like I had miles to go before that happened. Darby slowly opened the door and sauntered towards me. “See something you like Em? You like sneaking up on people? What, did the voices tell you?”

“No, no I was just going to bed and I saw….I saw the light and...your painting is really good!” Darby just laughed and threw her head back.

“Oh, so you know about my painting? Huh? You think you know what it’s all about? You think you know me since you’ve spent more time here, huh?”

“No! No! I like...I like your work! You’re...talented! And I just...I want you to know what we’re here for you an-”

“‘We’re’ here? Who the fuck is ‘we’? Is that the voices? Your creepy little schizo voices?”

“I’M NOT A SCHIZO!” I didn’t even know I could get that angry, that loud and powerful. I just couldn’t take it. Sam, now Darby, on top of everyone else...it was too much! Maybe I am a schizo. Everyone already thinks it, may as well give in. The voices were yelling so loudly I couldn’t hear Darby yelling at me.

“Hey! Em! Ema!! Hello, earth to Ema!” When I still didn’t respond, Darby grabbed my shoulders and started shaking me. “Ema! Snap out of it!”

I shook my head and I was back. Darby was looking more scared than I’d ever seen her. “I’m sorry. I just got, I just got lost in my head. That’s all. I swear. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I promise! I’ll leave you alone, I swear.” Darby studied my face, trying to figure out what she was going to do. Her final look told me that she was done messing with me for the night and just wanted to paint. As she turned on her heel, I let out a long breath and let my head fall to my chest.

When I finally calmed the voices, and Darby was back to her stool, the lights in the hallway went out. We both looked at each other. It meant it was curfew, and we weren’t in our rooms. Darby quickly started to clean up and yelled to me. “Hey! Ema, come on, help me here. Come on.” It was like I was stuck to the wall, I just couldn’t move towards her. “Ema! Come on! Otherwise we are both screwed!”

I ran into the art room and started grabbing her pallets, I dumped them in the sink, getting black and red all over my hands. Darby was taking down her canvas and easel. We were both making great time until we heard footsteps coming down the hall. Those tile were practically designed so no matter how slowly you stepped everyone could hear you. Darby bolted to the door, locking it and hitting the lights. I found a corner and waved her over. “Come on!”

The two of us curled into the corner where we were least likely to be seen. The footsteps kept getting closer until we heard the rattle of the doorknob. We were cornered. Literally.

Get ready for more! Chapter 3 coming soon! Let us know if you want to be tagged!!

Sanity is Relative Tags: @growningupgeek @emoryhemsworth @love-kittykat21

[sidhewrites]

The Prince in the Wood, Part 7

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part Six.  Part Seven. Part 8 (Finale).

Approx. 1500 words.

Content warning for mentions of food.

Mary didn’t come down until late. I went up the stairs to get ready for bed, and she slipped out of the bedroom right as I opened the door.

“Hey, I--” I started, but she didn’t even look my way, padding across the hallway and down to the kitchen. No doubt she was trying to avoid me, and it took some effort not to simply follow her down and demand she speak to me. 

Instead, I showered and changed into pyjamas. At some point a door outside the bathroom open and shut. By the time I came out, Mary had shut off the lights in the room and climbed back into bed facing the wall. The university blanket was still untouched.

“I’m exhausted,” I tried, but didn’t expect a response. After a moment, I padded over to the window to look out over the yard. It was nearly black save for the few patches of light escaping from the windows downstairs. “It’s so stuffy in here. Makes me think of that time I got locked into a practise room in the music building. Did I ever tell you that story?”

Nothing.

“You should have seen the campus in October,” I try. “Pumpkins everywhere. The dean dressed up like a fairy princess, complete with magic wand. You’d have loved it.”

I waited. Still nothing.

“You’re not good at pretending to sleep, you know.” I lifted a hand to the window. “Maybe I should--”

There was a rustling behind me. My hand had barely touched the glass, and I turned to see Mary sitting upright, eyes wide and boring into me. They reflected strangely in the low light, almost like a cat’s. Almost.

“Good morning,” I tried.

She said nothing. For a moment, neither did I. But as soon as I dropped my hand and stepped towards her, she looked away. The light in her eyes faded, and she lay back down.

“And good night,” I muttered, and climbed into bed myself.

#

For the first time in years, sleep did not come easily to me in this bedroom. I tossed and turned all night, occasionally sitting up to look over at Mary or out the window. At some point in the night, she turned over onto her back, eyes shut and breathing slowly. Sometime around midnight, our dads shut the lights off downstairs and came up to get ready for bed themselves, but I couldn’t make out their hushed conversation through the walls.

At some point, though, I managed to doze off, only to be woken up by the smell of eggs frying downstairs. I all but leapt out of bed, thrilled for my first proper breakfast that wasn’t from a cafeteria production line -- and stopped.

“Mary?”

She stood at the window, a hand resting on the latch. 

“Hey, how long were you standing there for?” I made my way over, hesitating before reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder.

She flinched, and turned around, wide-eyed and apparently only just now waking up. Her shock dissipated quickly as she recognised me, only to be replaced by frustration and another emotion I couldn’t quite read as she shrugged me off and climbed back into bed.

“Hey, don’t be like that. Dad’s making omelettes, I think. I smell onions.”

She stiffened. Then, reluctantly, she sat up again, and made her way out of the room without waiting for me. I followed anyway, and we sat at the table together. 

Our dads seemed surprised to see us arrive together, but not at all upset. Pop set the newspaper aside and sat at the table with a smile as he asked, “You girls get up to anything dangerous last night?”

Mary shrugged.

I snorted. “What does that even mean?”

Pop waved a hand at us. “Oh, you know how it is. A college student can be a dangerous influence on those around her, you know.

“I don’t know what that means either.”

Mary glanced at me with a hint of disbelief, but quickly turned her attention back to a knot in the wood of the table. 

Dad stepped out of the kitchen with a plate full of omelettes and garnishes. “What’s the plan for Thursday, then? Kathy’s not doing her potluck this year, so we can do whatever you want.”

“What’s up with Kathy?” I asked.

“She rented a log cabin in the mountains for the week.”

Pop shuddered. “Imagine wanting to go to the snow.”

Dad laughed and kissed his head. “Maybe if you ever stop being a baby, I could.”

They laughed, and we spent breakfast floating around ideas for Thanksgiving dinner. 

The day was spent running errands together, though Mary asked to spend much of the time in the car. She still barely looked at me, and only spoke when she absolutely had to. The way our dads reacted to it, though, it seemed that the fact that she’d gone outside at all was something to be happy for.

It was only mid afternoon by the time we got back, but the lack of sleep was catching up to me. Pop headed for the backyard to tend to the rose bushes, Mary in tow, so I took the opportunity to nap. I was wide awake in time for dinner, which Mary didn’t join us for, and I tossed and turned that night as well.

Dad went off to work that morning. Pop was going to make for the garden, but stopped when he saw me reaching for my shoes.

“Where are you off to?” he asked.

“Just a walk. Not too far, though. I’ll be home before dark.”

“You should take Mary with you. I’m sure she could do with the exercise.”

I hesitated, caught between the idea of wanting to make Mary like me again, and not wanting to face the certainty that a single walk would be of much use.

Still, I nodded, and turned to head up the stairs to get my sister.

She was already there, standing at the top of the stairs and looking down at me with those haunted eyes. I made myself smile and gestured vaguely. “Wanna come? I’m just going around the block, I think.”

Mary walked down silently and slipped on a pair of sandals.

The walk went no better than expected. I avoided mentioning the promise I’d made to her.  I asked questions and pretended to wait for an answer that wouldn’t come. I told her stories about Shannon and the things we did together.

“Oh -- we should play that one game together, actually. I think you’d like it. Maybe we could see if someone in the neighborhood has a console we can borrow.”

Nothing. 

The next few days continued in much the same way, but I lost my patience by Thursday. After three days straight of nothing but silence, I cornered my sister in the bedroom that afternoon by throwing the blankets off her and leaning over her.

“What do you want me to say?” I demanded. “I’m sorry -- I’m sorry, okay? I know I broke my promise. I know I’m an asshole. Is that what you want to hear? That I’m horrible for wanting to have a life outside of you?”

She clenched her jaw, but didn’t say anything. Only looked away towards the wall.

“Look at you, little sweet perfect, Mary, always delicate and having to be taken care of. Nobody is allowed to be happy around you, because you’re not allowed to go running through the woods like some fairy princess, right? Everyone has to be miserable because your stupid prince isn’t real!”

I saw her body stiffen, and a spiteful glee rose up in my chest.

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot we aren’t supposed to say that around you. We’re supposed to pretend you haven’t been coming up with stories all your life for attention, because you never learned how to make friends. So you make them up, right? You pretend you have something interesting about your life, so you don’t have to admit that you’re just a miserable, codependent person who can’t stand that other people want to grow up!”

She buried her face in the pillow.

Before I could say more, the front door opened and shut. The smell of fast food takeout -- our chosen Thanksgiving dinner -- rose up to the bedroom, and our dads chatted together as they walked to the kitchen.

Besides me, Mary sniffed.

All at once, my anger melted. Guilt rose up and dragged me down to the floor, where I felt everything fall apart.

After a long moment, I made myself speak. “I’m sorry.” I meant it. “I know I promised to call. I just….I got caught up in everything. It’s not an excuse.” I sighed. “I’m sorry.���

Another pause. Pop called us down for dinner, and I pushed myself to my feet. “You don’t have to come downstairs tonight. I’ll tell them you’re asleep.”

Mary continued to sniffle as I pulled the blankets up off the floor and arranged them over her.

“Want me to bring you some cake?” 

Somewhere from within the folds of the bed covers came a muffled, mm-hmm."

“Can do.”

[siiriusblxck]

five times kissed

One –

The first kiss didn’t have any real romantic connotations –nothing attached to it but a love two boys (closer to one another than anyonelese) shared before they really knew much else.

Siruis had come to spend the last week of summer holidaywith the Potters, unable to stand another moment at 12 Gimmmauld place. He’dspent all summer asking, and was finally allowed to visit. At twelve years old,the only thing he knew for certain about his relationship with James was thatit was the best one he had. And that James made him happy in a way no one elsecould.

They spent the first six days exploring in the gardens,using their imaginations to dream up far away places. They caused mischief andate biscuits and caught bizarre creatures (which usually turned out to,actually be quite normal creatures, but the boys were prone to dramatics). Allday was spent out in the summer sun, enjoying their last moments of relativefreedom before school started again. And they spent their nights huddled undermasses of pillows with the windows wide open, telling stories.

By the end, Sirius had revealed many truths to James – the likesof which neither boy had understood the gravity of until it hung in the airbetween them; rotting fruit that needed to be plucked, but neither dared totouch it.

James’ breath had been warm and sweet on Sirius’ face as heleaned in to offer comfort. His lips had come to rest against Sirius’ cheek –so close to the other boy’s mouth – where they lingered. Sirius’ heart, whichhad felt so heavy before, was now weightless in his chest. He pressed a kiss,in return, to the side of James’ mouth, just as had been done to him, and thenJames held him in silence until their breathing slowed and they were bothlulled to sleep by the sounds of the other’s heart.

Two –

A game of spin the bottle had somehow devolved (or evolved,depending on who you asked) into Seven Minutes in Heaven – another Muggle gameLily had brought with her to Hogwarts.

The boys’ names go inone bowl and the girls’ in another…

The rules had been laid out, but Sirius didn’t like thoserules, and had suggested all the names just go in together.

“It’ll be more interesting that way.” He assured everyoneand was met with little opposition, so they went ahead with his plan.

A few times, the names pulled made people in the groupgroan, but it was reiterated that, once in the closet, one did not have to do anything with their partner.They only had to remain for seven minutes. Everyone played along and there wasno shortage of butterbeer or weed to help keep everyone relaxed. Lily andMarlene made a big show over their names both being pulled – a few of the guyscatcalled and asked to watch, but Sirius sat silently pleased and hopeful forwhen his name would be drawn.

When it was finally pulled, he was pleasantly surprised whenJames’ was drawn with it. He stood and flung himself at James dramatically.

“Take me! I’m yours!” He called with a laugh but the boysdisappeared into the darkness where they would be locked for the next severalminutes. It was too dark for Sirius to make out James’ face, but it was almosttoo quiet for him to bear. “Wanna make some really loud noises?” Really freakthem out?” He suggested, but then he felt James’ hands on his face, the pads ofhis thumbs brushing slowly over his cheeks before they found his lips an Siriusrealized that that was what James had been looking for.

Not a moment later and their mouths were pressed togetherand Sirius could taste James – all butterbeer and smoke and sherbert candies.

The kiss was soft and subtle, James’ mouth wet (but not inan unpleasant way), and it was over as quickly as it had come.  They spent the rest of their time in stunnedsilence. Sirius couldn’t find his words, he’d been too shocked by what Jameshad done and James… when the door opened, he was the first one out, without asideways glance at Sirius, and Sirius knew that this was not something theycould talk about.

Three –

James spent the rest of fifth year snogging any girl whowould have him – or so it seemed to Sirius. He tried not to let it bother him,to not get to him, though it proveddifficult. James’ kiss in the closet had awoken dormant thoughts that Siriushad not allowed himself to acknowledge before. Each time he saw James with agirl, he felt a surge of envy. A snake of feelings and emotions curled in hisbelly and he found them harder and harder to control.

One night, after a particularly brutal Quidditch match,Sirius sat behind the curtains of James’ four poster rubbing out all the kinksin his best mate’s body. James sighed in relief at the ministrations of Sirius’delicate fingers and, after a while, Sirius shifted away to lay beside James.The other boy looked at him with a gentle smile that made Sirius’ stomach flip,and then they were moving in closer to one another, if drawn by magnetic force.

“Pads?” James eyes were on Sirius’ mouth now and the olderboy felt a pull in his gut.

“Mm?”

“Do you reckon I’m a good kisser?” His hazel eyes locked inon Sirius’ greys and the older boy’s brow furrowed before he laughed shortly.

“I’m sure. I mean, you only snogged me the one time, so I’venot got much to go on… but, yeah, I suppose you are.” James’ brow crinkled buthis eyes were alight with something familiar as he wet his lips and brought hishead down to rest on the pillow beside Sirius’.

“I think we ought to practice.” He said, and he was looking –once more – at Sirius’ mouth. “You know, a bit of practice is always good. We’vegot Quidditch practice and study groups, why should this be any different?” Itseemed to Sirius that James had been thinking about this for quite some time.He had an entire sales pitch worked out and Sirius was definitely buying. Hesmiled softly at his best mate, clearly amused, then ran his fingers throughJames’ unruly hair – which was still sweaty at the edges.

“Okay. Practice makes perfect.” He answered and then Jameswas hovering over him, their mouths were locked together in a more passionateembrace than Sirius could have possibly prepared himself for. But he succumbed,enjoying the feeling of James’ weight against him, of fingers grasping at hishair, at being wanted by someone he’dlonged for so deeply for so long. And he admitted to himself in between motionsthat he loved James Potter.

Four –

It wasn’t fair to Sirius – this pull James had on him, thetight hold he couldn’t seem to shake. He hated distance or time apart, andJames fed his codependency with a need of his own. No matter the time, he wasalways ready to greet Sirius with a special smile reserved only for him.

And, oh, how Sirius longed for him! To have and to hold, tospend lazy mornings with and stay up late wit, to kiss and call his own.

It wasn’t fair to Sirius that James wanted to have his cakeand eat it, too. That he couldn’t decide what he truly wanted, so he kept Lilyclose and Sirius even closer.

It wasn’t fair to Sirius to have to walk in shame and livein confusion. It wasn’t fair to leave him with nothing for weeks then show up,bleeding at his doorstep, looking for the one person who truly understood him.

It wasn’t fair to Lily that James was sat on Sirius’ bedwith that fucking look – something desperate and hungry, something that didnothing to hide the emptiness in James, a place only Sirius could fill – the nightbefore they were set to get married. It wasn’t fair to her that her fiancé waslooking at his best man, his best mate,and asking for someth9ing he knew he shouldn’t want as badly as he did. And itwasn’t fair to Lily that Sirius already knew he’d give in. Anything James askedof him – there’d be no second thought. And James knew it.

At first, Sirius tried to talk James out of it and tried toconvince himself that his best mate was just drunk. But, as James stood andstepped closer, Sirius could feel his breath against his cheek and it smelled ofnothing stronger than pumpkin juice.

I need you, Pads.Please.

Sirius closed his eyes and gave himself over, fluorescingwith the love of James washing him over, until morning inevitably came andburnt out every bulb of hope.

Five –

Friday, 30 October, 1981. Sirius had managed to swing sometime with James before the weekend went into full swing. Mostly, he wanted tolament about not being able to spend his favorite holiday with his favoriteperson. Sitting in the Potters’ parlour in Godric’s Hollow, Sirius had bouncedbaby Harry and made plans for future Halloween costumes – complete with a listincluding ‘wolf boy’ (though that sent a pang right through his chest).

After a while, Lily took Harry to get him ready for bed, andSirius finally had James alone. It felt strange to have James’ fingers runthrough his recently cropped hair. The familiar touch sent a surge ofelectricity through him and he leaned into it, glad to have a few moments withthis man he loved so much.

“Your birthday’s coming up.” James broke the silence with abroad grin that Sirius couldn’t help but match. Then Sirius sighed.

“I feel much older than twenty-two.” James scratched at hisscalp and leaned in closer, his words whispering across Sirius’ face.

“I’ll get away next weekend. I’ll swing it, somehow. Wegotta celebrate – what do you think? Maybe Pete can come and keep Lily andHarry company? I haven’t even got you a gift, mate. I have to do something.”

Sirius knew that the right thing to do would be to object andtell James to stay put, to stay where he was needed. But his loneliness hadossified every part of him and the selfish core of him would take what he couldget.

He nodded fervently. “Even if just for a night.”

They spent the next two hours talking and stealing smalltouches where they could, but the time came where Sirius needed to leave andJames needed to meet his wife in the room they shared.

“See you Friday?” Sirius asked with a  hopeful lilt and a small half smile as Jameswalked him to the door. James positively beamed and stepped out onto the porch.First, it was a hug… and then their lips met and Sirius felt like he wasdissolving right into James.

“See you Friday.” He affirmed and watched Sirius leave onhis charmed motorbike.

If Sirius had known that would be their final kiss, he’dhave held on a little longer.