#saved this post a while ago and it touches on a bunch of issues i had written in my head yet didn't have the energy to write down so

[smores100]

i don't believe anything hamas has to say. about anything. they're sadistic manipulative liars and have been proven to be ones again and again. they're the ones giving out numbers of casualties and injured people. they've already been caught including certain names more than once; they've also been caught including names of people who had died long before the attacks ever happened

it's amazing how 5 mins after an attack they know to announce 1000 people dead (they count so fast!), whereas 2 months later and israel is still making adjustments to the numbers and finding and identifying bodies from the october 7 massacre....(side note: by archaeologists. they use archaeologists. try and think why an archaeologist is needed to find proof of someone being dead rather than missing/kidnapped. let that sink in...)

interesting how when the idf was accused of bombing a hospital there were 500 dead, but when it was proven to be a failed rocket launch by islamic jihad there were only 20-50 people killed…math is fun!

and yet the world keeps hanging on to every word by 'the most credible not terrorist organization in the world'… (if you don't get the reference go watch eretz nehederet's parody of the bbc…they did a couple and it's so accurate it hurts)

also as mentioned here hamas doesn't differentiate between 'innocent civilians' and their own terrorists. they /are/ freedom fighters after all to them eeeeeveryone is innocent! but you can be sure at least half - if not more - of the real number of casualties are terrorists (there's a reason i used quotation marks but that's a whole other story...) and yes there IS a difference b/w collateral damage bc that's what happens in war specifically when the enemy hides like cowards amongst civilians, and PURPOSELY and DELIBERATELY invading cities and torturing and executing every civilian in sight if you can't see the difference then sorry i can't help you 🤷‍

also SECONDED on that whole genocide bs…sometimes people die at war??? it's not all genocide??? why aren't you crying about hamas' continued attempt at genocide? they literally have KILL ALL JEWS written in their charter! they massacred 1400 people (the majority being jews) on october 7! what do you think they're trying to do when they launch 10000 rockets at populated civilian areas??? the only reason there aren't thousands of dead israelis is bc israel gaf about their people and spent millions of dollars on shelters and the iron dome for protection. hamas could've done the same. instead they stole the people's money and used it to build underground tunnels to hide in and rockets. (in their defence they also used it for charity…how else would haniyeh have been able to survive in qatar w/o his 4 billion dollars???) your liberal misuse of the term dilutes its meaning and is an insult to real genocides happening across the world. ffs assad murdered more than half a million of his own people and the UN still sucks his dick and the world is silent....(i get it; actual war crimes and genocides and ethnic cleansings aren't interesting when the jews aren't involved…)

last but not least since this all started due to the cancellation of noah…FUCK YOU fuck you for trying to cancel a JEWISH boy for being PROUD of his IDENTITY and wanting HIS PEOPLE to be SAFE guess what? zionism IS sexy *le gasp* all of you using zionism as if it's a bad word a curse word using it to hide your antisemitism....zionism (nowadays) simply means you believe israel has a right to exist (as a safe haven for all jews) and the jewish people's right for self determination. it means NOTHING regarding the palestinians and any rights they should or shouldn't have. you can be a zionist and still support a two state solution! these things aren't mutually exclusive! the way certain people have twisted its meaning to make the world believe all jews and israelis are evil monsters who want all palestinians dead and the entire land to themselves is disgusting the backlash and sheer hate and the cancellation of a 19 year old jewish boy over it is no less disgusting but you know what? thanks for proving EXACTLY why zionism is still important and why israel MUST keep existing 👍

This was a reply to someone else, but I'm making this its own post because so many people are being so evil right now re: Noah Schnapp.

You can find other, longer explanations with history and all, but all the places I've seen more or less agree with this:

So you're all calling people to cancel Noah because he's in favor of a Jewish nation in what is today Israel. Which is a perfectly reasonable, decent and educated opinion to have, especially when you, to use a trendy term, "educate yourself" and find out why the state of Israel was created.

11000 dead Palestinians, half of them children

According to Hamas. Don't forget that, ever. They're the current, official government of Gaza, thus they're the ones who give numbers. This means that the real number could be 10, 1 million, anything in between. What I've read is that they probably give more of less accurate total numbers. What they fail to do, however, is distinguish between Hamas militants and civilians, and beteween civilians killed by IDF strikes, civilians killed by failed Hamas or Palestininan Islamic Jihad's rockets (which happens a lot), and Palestinians murdered by Hamas/PIJ (which also happens, a whole damn lot). They also don't specify how many civilians they have prevented or tried to prevent from evacuating or receiving aid.

11k dead people is a horrible number. Even 1 dead person is a horrible number. However, urban warfare in such a densely populated area is its own kind of hell, especially when the other side is fond of using civilians as human shields in every way possible. The fact that the number is 11k and not 50k, 100k, and so on, indicates that the IDF have indeed done a lot to minimize deaths. You don't genocide people by doing roof knocks, opening evacuation lines, dropping guided bombs, putting up an Iron Dome to deal with rockets while avoiding escalation, etc. simply because actual genocide, while a lot worse, is also cheaper, easier and faster than what they're doing. This is important because caling every act of war genocide dilutes the word, and there are actual genocides happening around the world. Also, there is a difference between striking military targets and causing civilian deaths as a side effect (what the IDF is doing) and planning and carrying out a massacre deliberately targeting civilians and inflicting as much pain and humilliation as possible on them. And there is a difference between doing so by breaking a ceasefire (which is what Hamas did), and defending your country because if you don't do that a terrorist group will anhilate you (which is what the IDF is doing).

Back to Noah. So far, these are the things that people have tried to cancel him for:

Traveling to Israel (a completely normal thing)

Having Israeli friends (another completely normal thing)

Condemning Hamas' horrible attack on October 7th (the decent thing to do)

Posting a statement saying he feels unsafe as a Jewish person in the US (which, given the rise of antisemitic acts in the world, including the US, including where he lives and where he studies, is a valid feeling to have)

Signing a letter, along with Shawn Levy, Brett Gelman, Ross Duffer and I think Cara Buono, asking Biden to press for the liberation of every hostage by Hamas. This especially shows the utter ignorance of the cancellers because, as it turns out, caring about every hostage implies a slowdown of IDF's actions (and, at the time, a delay of a ground invasion).

Supporting the existence and preservation of the state of Israel (once again, a completely normal thing). The fact that people are turning against him for these things says to me that the real reason you are all hating Noah is beacuse:

He's Jewish. Like, really really Jewish.

And the fact that this all comes from a place of antisemitism isn't hidden at all: I've seen y'all on here, on Twitter, Reddit, every other social media calling him slurs (such as "cunt"), censoring his name, pretending he's not part of the cast, asking the Duffers/Netflix to fire him, wishing him failure, doxxing him, calling on his classmates to physically assault him, etc. He doesn't need to educate himself: you guys are already teaching him a great lesson on why a Jewish state is necessary. If that's the treament he gets from his own "fans", what can he expect from the world at large?

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | June 24th-30th 2024

Happy Canada Day to all my fellow Canadians! Here comes a more reasonable weekly recap compared to last week :P

Complete

see the stars with my morning eyes by trippedandfell/ @trippedandfell (Teacher Buck AU | 3K | Teen): “So,” Buck announces, sitting down between Hen and Chimney at the concessions stand. “I think Eddie’s trying to get me to sleep with him and his fiancée.” or: Eddie calls Lucy his partner. Buck extrapolates.

kiss my lips, feel the rhythm of your heart and hips by Daffi_990_ao3/ @daffi-990 (Post-S7, Getting Together | 3K | Mature): After months of clawing at the ground and scraping through the mud of his memories of his relationship with Shannon, his childhood and a whole bunch of religious guilt, Eddie had finally accepted the truth about his marriage and himself. He’s queer. His sexuality isn’t the only thing he’s discovered though. Eddie Diaz is queer and he is in love with Evan Buckley.

Being Selfish by Inell/ @inell (Post-7x10: All Fall Down, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): It’s been a little more than six weeks since Eddie’s life became a chaotic mess. Luckily, he’s had Buck’s support and constant presence to help him get through it.

in the rough draft, [s]he loved you by iinryer/ @iinryer (S5, Outsider POV | 5K | General): during the flight home to LA after ramon's retirement party, eddie tries to write down some things he wants to say to buck

wrap your arms around me, baby boy by marviless/ @marviless (Getting Together | 6K | Teen): in which buck pretends to be asleep and overhears something he shouldn't.

🔥 i’ve seen a couple suns that set forever by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7, Christopher POV | 7K | General): Freshly home from Texas and faced with the prospect of his dad's feelings for Buck, Christopher's abandonment issues surface. A conversation with Bobby, and realizing the parallels between Buck's relationship with Bobby, and his relationship with Buck, gives Chris the perspective he needs.

i'll be the north star that takes you home by marviless/ @marviless (Post-S7, Getting Together | 8K | General): eddie is moving back to el paso for the summer.

Just to Chase the Pain Away by UnderwaterNinja/ @underwaterninja13 (BTHB: Public Humiliation, BDSM, Subdrop | 11K | Explicit): Buck makes the poor decision to go to a kink club to deal with his emotions. After he's left with no aftercare, someone comes to his rescue.

Firehouse Baby by Nejinee/ @nejineeee (S2-S7, Getting Together | 21K | Explicit): One day, Eddie put his hand on Buck’s thigh and Buck hasn’t stopped thinking about it since.

🔥 something touched me (like a knife-blade) by kithmet/ @kithmet (Alternate S7 Finale, Getting Together | 42K | Explicit): Eddie self-implodes. Christopher, seeking refuge, flees to Buck—whose priorities amount to, in varying order: take in the kid, get Eddie to talk to him, and keep the three of them afloat in the process. (Oh, and Tommy’s there too. He thinks.)

🔥 Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 50K | Explicit): Once, Eddie chose to save a newly turned against his better judgment. Five hundred years ago, Buck was saved by a rescuer he thought was a hallucination. Now they're together again and about to find out just how far either of them will go to try and deny what they are to each other.

🔥 Descendants of Cyrano by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (~S7, Dungeons&Dragons, Getting Together | 55K | Explicit): People have their characters romance each other all the time while playing Dungeons & Dragons. There's deep meaningful monologues and sometimes some crying. It's normal. "Normal" is definitely not the word for whatever Buck and Eddie are inflicting on the rest of the 118.

WIP

🔥 If You Can Make the Music by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, | 2/5 | 5K | Mature): Spin-off Sequel to Evan Buckley & the Coma-Verse of Madness - Chapter 5 (Seaside): A year after a whirlwind two week love affair with bartender Buck in Galveston, Texas, Eddie Diaz finds himself coincidentally relocating to the area. But when he attempts to reconnect with Buck, he's in for an unfortunate surprise. (Part 3 of Coma-Verse)

Podfics

[podfic] but it feels like a fortress when the weather gets bad by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight/ @aro-of-artemis (Post-3x15: Eddie Begins | 20-30min | Teen): Buck has a nightmare about Eddie dying, but he also has a key to Eddie's house.

Re-Read

Like a Sack of Bricks by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Feelings Realization | 2K | Teen): One word from Christopher, and Eddie's realizing he's made a serious miscalculation about his best friend.

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐠𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟔)

pt. 15

note: missed u baddies~~~!!! this chapter was so hard to write but i love how it turned out, hope y’all loved it tooooo ♡ 

playlist *new additions!*

word count: 7.6k

warnings: age gap, smut 

Absentmindedly, you picked up your phone on the end table beside you. It was positively buzzing with notifications, and you were a bit thrown off by the sheer amount of them. You furrowed your eyebrows as you skimmed through the notifications from the bottom to the top— you had a bunch of missed calls from your parents, more Snapchat notifications on your regular snap than ever, and a plethora of texts. 

You wondered if something had happened, chewing slightly on your bottom lip. Was everything okay at home? Did you post something meant for your cam site on your Instagram? A hundred various circumstances fled through your mind, but none of the situations you had made up could’ve prepared you for when you opened a text from Aaliyah with a picture attached. It read:

    - Attachment: 1 image

    - BITCH, THIS IS LITERALLY YOU!!!

     You sat up immediately, your stomach twisting nauseatingly as you looked at the image on your phone screen. You blinked a few times, rubbing furiously at your eyes like this was all a bad dream and you’d wake up in a few seconds. Because this couldn’t be happening. There was no way that you were looking at a picture of you and Steve that neither of you had taken, walking out of a restaurant you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of right now. A sense of urgency flooding your veins, you nudged Steve harshly. He shifted in his sleep and put his arms around your waist, unaware of what was going on. 

     “Steve!” you hissed, your face burning. 

     He woke up relatively quickly, hearing the seriousness in your tone, sitting up against the pillow and facing you, his brows knitted together, muscles flexing as he supported himself on his arms. 

     “What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, leaning forward to see what you were showing him on your phone. 

You watched his expression change from one of confusion to one of concern as he began to grasp what had happened. But, instead of talking it out with you as you expected, he cursed under his breath and ripped the bed sheets off of him, getting up out of bed. You leaned forward, your naked bottom half getting exposed to the air while he pulled on some clothes and made his way out the door. 

     “Where’re you going?” you called out after him, and he didn’t even bother to take a look back at you as he marched out of the apartment, muttering,

     “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

You tried to catch up to him, but it was too late. He was gone, and now you were alone in this apartment which felt eerily empty without him now, your phone pinging with a new notification every few seconds. 

| | | 

     As expected, the headquarters were abuzz when Steve entered them. He had arrived in a haste, driving stoically on the busy New York streets, his mind racing just like the cars that zoomed past him. The first person to face him once he got inside was Bucky, who just gave Steve a sympathetic look and held the door open for him— Bucky already knew everything, he had figured it out a few weeks ago on his own. You and Steve had already dealt with that hiccup, and you had hoped (perhaps naively) that the situation with Bucky was just a fluke, and that nothing more like that would happen again. But you had been sorely mistaken. 

     Steve gave Bucky a nod, and they both made their way to the meeting room, where Steve already knew everyone would be waiting for him. Quite immaturely, he rolled his eyes at the fact that everyone was there. This matter was something personal, it had nothing to do with the rest of the Avengers, though technically it did, because Steve’s actions affected the rest of the team and  he knew that. But to his own credit, he had just woken up and he was already being bombarded with messages from PR and the rest of the team about this mishap. He had to compose himself before walking in, taking a deep breath and relaxing his clenched jaw. 

     “Are you insane?” was the first thing Steve heard when he walked in, no doubt coming from Tony.

Steve sighed, tucking his hands into his pockets, glaring at Tony,

     “Save the berating for later.”

     “Were you not thinking? Is this what you were doing during your time off?” Tony continued, his hands up in the air in a questioning motion.

     “Listen, Tony. I’m not here to hear what I did wrong. I’m here to solve this issue right now, whatever that means.”

     “You’re gonna wanna see this,” Sam said reluctantly, sliding a magazine across the table for Steve to see. 

     It was one of those ridiculous celebrity gossip magazines, and multiple pictures of Steve and you were highlighted on the front page. Steve prepared for the worst as he read the headlines: “Captain America with Mystery Girl?” and “Who is Captain America’s New Boo?” He opened the magazine to more unsavory headlines, and to his extreme dismay, pictures of you from your personal Instagram highlighted. 

     He raised his eyebrows as he read: “More on Captain America’s New Girl.” They had found your name, your age, and worst of all, your profession. Steve was seeing red as he forced himself to keep reading the salacious article which made you out to be a deviant with ulterior motives, abusing inaccurate phrases like, “an unemployed college girl turned porn star” and, “the face of Captain America’s midlife crisis!” 

Steve’s face burned white hot as he scanned the article, barely even registering the content and instead finding himself growing more and more angered by the inflammatory statements that were being made. 

     “That’s enough,” Nat finally spoke up, watching the expressions on Steve’s face grow more and more catastrophic.

She snatched the magazine away from Steve and shoved it across the table, folding her arms and glaring down the table at Tony. 

     “You okay?” Bucky asked, reaching a hand out to Steve’s shoulder. He could feel Tony’s angry glare focused on him, while everyone else gazed at him pitifully. 

Steve sighed, jerking his shoulder away from Bucky’s touch. He couldn’t even pinpoint his emotions, all he was feeling right now was rage. He was angry at himself, feeling like he somehow let this happen, even though deep down he could hear your voice telling him that he was doing everything right and that it wasn’t his fault. He was angry that now, your privacy and safety were on the line, and people who didn’t know a thing about you were making absurd assumptions about you. 

     He felt like yelling, punching something, doing anything to let out this anger so he could at least have some sort of vessel for this fury he was feeling. But he stood painstakingly still, trying to hear your voice over all the noise, your voice telling him everything was okay even though right now all signs were saying that everything was not okay. 

     “You have to deny everything,” Tony sighed after moments of awkward silence. “She’s your assistant and you were undercover acting as boyfriend and girlfriend, something convincing but not as exposing as that. And you’re getting your legal team to sue all these publications for false claims and defamation.”

Steve furrowed his brows, staring at Tony,

     “They aren’t false claims.”

Tony shrugged flippantly,

      “If you want everyone to think Captain America is sleeping with a porn star, then so be it. But it’s going to cost you if you think for a second I’m gonna let that slide on our team-”

Steve cut him off, losing the calming hum of your voice in his mind in a new wave of anger, 

     “She’s not a porn star, she’s a college graduate and the owner of an online brand and a sex worker, and that’s more than a lot of people her age can say, so don’t get brave because of these god damn articles, Stark.”

     “Listen, Cap,” Tony spat sarcastically. “I don’t give a shit who she is. The point is that in this case, your opinion on her doesn’t matter because everyone else is going to say whatever the fuck they want to say. And that’s bad for you, it’s bad for us, and it’s bad for her, if you care as much as you claim to.”

     “Don’t act like I didn’t think about this,” Steve lurched forward, slamming his hands on the table. “She’s more than just some girl to me. Don’t act like every waking second I didn’t worry that something like this would happen. Like, like I didn’t take every precaution I could, look over my shoulder every five seconds. I’m not as stupid as you want me to be, Stark.”

Of course Steve cared about his team and how this would affect the Avengers, but the last straw was the media coming for you, putting your privacy and your safety at stake. Your job and the details of your job were extremely sensitive, and you were just beginning to make a name for yourself in the real world. Steve honestly felt like this was worse for you than it was for him. He knew he had to take care of this first, for logistical reasons, but when he was done, he’d get right to you as soon as possible.

     Tony sighed, softening just a bit.

     “Listen. You know what you have to do. After the Accords, this… this isn’t the kind of attention that we need. Regardless of that, we can’t have this. You’re making a statement today, and you know what you have to say. PR’s already contacting the publishers of these bullshit articles. As for your little girlfriend, if we’re not careful, she could be in huge danger. You know the kind of people we deal with, and how fast they would swing at a chance to grab her when they think she’s unprotected. That’s exactly why you need to deny everything, and we’ll do all the damage control possible. Not that there’s even much we can fix at this point.”

      Steve glared all around the table, only to see faces of the rest of the members of the team looking up at him expectantly. He needed to explain himself. How’d he even get into this mess, what was he thinking, the usual. And Steve knew that that was his responsibility— as Captain America. As the leader. As a part of the team. Right now, he was just himself. Steve Rogers. And all that Steve Rogers was worried about was you. Regardless of what you said, the fact that you could be in danger scared the shit out of him, and also put him into this almost primitive, dominant mode. He needed to protect you. He didn’t care about reactions and rumors, he needed to make sure you were safe.

     “Talk later,” was all Steve said, turning out of the room and ignoring Tony calling his name. When he got into the car he slammed the door shut and began the drive home. 

      His mind was swarming with thoughts, about what this meant for his team, for his job, all the things he’d left unaddressed in the meeting room. He knew this wasn’t his fault, he knew that’s what you would say, but Steve wasn’t going to let himself off this easily. He was livid about the fact that the magazines and web articles had found you out so quickly and had posted pictures of you, giving away personal information about you and jeopardizing you as if you deserved it at all. So he drove home in a silent, fuming rage.

      By the time Steve came home, you, too were beside yourself with anger. You’d seen the posts your friends and family were sending you, and your social media was getting flooded with spam and comments from people who didn’t know the first thing about you. Some were downright cruel, others were oddly interested in this situation that was meant to be private all along. You hadn’t even called your parents yet or explained yourself to anyone, all you did was text them and tell them you’d get back to them later when you figured this all out. The only person you wanted to talk to at this point was Steve, and he wasn’t even there, nor was he answering his phone and you knew he had it on him. 

     The fact that he had seen the news and just left immediately, not giving you any sort of comfort or advice, not even beginning to work through this together, had you fuming. You knew that just like you, Steve had people to explain himself to and others to reach out to. But as far as you were concerned, you should’ve been the first person he talked to about this— he should’ve worked with you to at least talk about how to fix this before he just marched out the way he did. 

      You thought you had both worked past his eternal faithfulness to his job and the pressure to be dominant that he felt all the time, felt you had reached the core of the superhuman. But him leaving as promptly as he did only proved you wrong. You didn’t want to go through this alone, you wanted to go through this with him, as it was about the both of you in the first place.

     He came in and you looked up from your phone, where you were scrolling worriedly through the trending Twitter hashtag about you and Steve. Everyone was giving their unwarranted opinions, and you honestly worried how this would impact you— tons of information about you had been revealed without your consent, and it did not at all make you look good to the typical eye. 

     “Where did you go?” you asked him quietly, glaring up at him. 

He seemed to sense your anger and sighed, shrugging his shoulders in a resigned manner,

     “Headquarters. Had to sort some things out.”

     “Do you know how long I’ve been sitting here scrolling through pictures of me that are from my fucking cam site? Strangers exchanging information about me on the internet, seeing all this shit about us? And you just— just left? You didn’t even try to talk to me, Steve, honestly, what the fuck?” you snapped, your upper lip curling up angrily.

     Steve glided over to you, sitting beside you on the side of the bed and trying to get close to you. He truly felt sorrowful for leaving you alone, he wished you had known how much he wanted to talk to you while he was being berated by Tony. He only wished you had known how little he cared about the logistics because you were on his mind the whole time. 

     But he knew you were right, he had left without even trying to sort things out with you, left you to handle things on your own without even giving you an inch of support or telling you where he was going and what he planned for when he got back. 

     “You’re right, I’m sorry,” Steve apologized, his tone genuine, trying to catch your eye. He finally did, and even though you still glared angrily at him, he grinned at the fact that you were at least looking at him. “I should’ve been here for you, and dealt with all the other logistics later. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, honestly, angel. I didn’t… I didn’t know-”

He didn’t know that your image was being plastered around everywhere, that you were being unpacked by attention-seeking publications. Your safety and your privacy came before the reputation of his team, before all the logistics. That was all he had wanted to protect this entire time. You. Looking into Steve’s eyes, you could see that they were almost glassy, and you shifted from anger to concern quickly. 

     “Baby,” you cradled your arms around his head, frowning. “No, no, I’m… I’m being stupid, of course you have to handle shit with your job first, I should know that. I just wish we could’ve processed this emotionally first. Instead of separating from each other first thing.”

     “No,” Steve said firmly, pulling away from your touch and placing strong, grounding hands on your shoulders. “No, you are completely valid, and you’re right to be angry with me, doll. I should’ve taken a moment. That’s- that’s what we’ve been working on this entire time and you’ve been trying to teach me to step outside of my anxieties and all my duties. And I should’ve been here for you. I didn’t even take the time to comfort you. I’m sorry.”

      “Thank you,” you smiled softly, and he pulled you in for a hug, nuzzling his face in your neck. 

     This was the warmest you’d ever felt with him, just sitting there with him calmly in the midst of all the chaos, finding peace and stillness in each other’s arms. Anywhere else but in each other’s arms felt dangerous and uncertain, and now that you were here together, you were starting to look up. Everything was still shitty, but maybe together, things would feel less shitty. 

     “Listen, you’ll be okay. I’m sorry for all of this, I know what you’re going to say, but I know that I’m partially responsible. I just wanted to keep you safe, and, fuck.”

You chuckled quietly to yourself, your faces only inches apart when you brought your hands up to cup and graze Steve’s cheeks lovingly,

      “You still blame yourself for everything. You can’t control what these fucking publications do. You know that. And selfishly, the risk of getting caught is worth taking, if it means I get to be with you.”

Steve melted into your touch, but still there was that stiff part of him that wanted to blame himself for this mess,

     “We’re gonna have to agree to disagree on this one, doll,” he laughed wistfully. “But, you didn’t teach me for naught. Instead of pitying ourselves, we’re gonna work on this, right?”

You nodded with a smile, 

     “Yes, yes, exactly.”

Steve sighed before continuing, frowning as he remembered the hostile air in the office.

     “They told me to deny everything and get my legal team involved, but I…” Steve paused, feeling his anger and defiance resurge. 

     If they were going to expose you two, then so be it, it was true. If he didn’t tell the truth, if he denied all the “allegations,” he was just letting them win. He was letting them silence him, letting him think he was doing something wrong because he had found you, his happiness. And sure, your relationship was easy to publicize and critique because it was controversial for many obvious reasons— the age difference, the sensitive nature of your jobs. 

     But Steve didn’t care what they had to say. All he cared was that this didn’t push you apart. And if it meant telling the truth, he’d do that. The bombardment of rumors and questions would pass eventually. Nothing could soil the Avengers for long. If he handled this the way the public expected him to handle it— with some spineless apology or some weak minded statement, it wouldn’t be fair to you. Not when you and Steve were together. 

He continued,

     “I’m not going to. I’m not denying a thing. I’ll release a statement on my own… I’ll… I’ll tell the truth. I’ll get them to leave you alone and take down whatever they’ve posted about you. I don’t care what they have to say about us. Just… they can’t mess with you.”

     Steve’s fists balled up inadvertently in frustration and anger, but he was also feeling a surge of pride, courage. He didn’t have to deal with this the way everyone wanted him to. This was a personal matter, and even though it affected his job and his team, Steve had been through too much in the past few weeks to let the public play him the way they wanted to. There would be drama, and talk, but it would all subside as it always did. He’d always be Captain, and as long as he had a good heart and good intentions, and did his job right, he didn’t give a shit about what strangers had to say about who he was in love with. 

You blinked, shocked and puzzled by Steve’s words. This was like a full 180, you weren’t used to Steve rebelling like this. You figured maybe he was just worked up, and you didn’t want to be the reason he got in trouble. You knew he had his responsibilities, regardless of how you felt. You didn’t expect him to put you above everything, you knew he had to deal with matters like this in a specific way. You tried to calm him down,

     “Steve, you’re sweet. But you should go through with what your team wants. I mean, it’s what’s best, isn’t it?”

Steve cocked his head at you,

     “And keep doing this in secret? I mean, we can’t keep this up for long, doll, you know that. If I deny it now and the truth somehow comes out, that’d be even worse. I know my team is saying the opposite, but I think this is what’s best. The rumors, the gossip… it’ll come to a stop. What we have is stronger than that.”

You grinned, your eyes glossy,

     “I know, but I don’t wanna be the reason you get in trouble.”

Steve inched closer to you and cupped your face firmly with his hands, looking into your eyes,

     “You’re not. And you won’t be. Don’t blame yourself for a second. I’m taking care of this, alright? You’ve done so much for me and you don’t even know it. It would be a disservice to the both of us if I didn’t stand up for us. Don’t worry about me, don’t worry about my job. I was wrong to ever make you feel like that was your responsibility more than it was my own. We’ll be alright.”

     Steve was true to his word. As the day progressed and word spread even more, soon enough there was a statement to match the rumors. It wasn’t what the publicists or his fellow Avengers wanted to hear, but it was what he thought was right. And there was no reversing it. Later that day you sat on your laptop, scrolling through the recently updated articles on your situation. 

     Superhero Captain America, known to those in his personal life as Steve Rogers, admits that he has been in a private relationship for the past few months. Rogers and his team ask that their privacy be maintained and respected despite the shocking, unexpected news. At the time, Rogers and his fellow Avengers will not be taking any further inquiries about the matter, and they are taking this violation of privacy and security very seriously. 

     You breathed out a sigh of relief as you read the statement, mulling it over a few times in your head. All Steve wanted was to keep you safe and get as much information that had been revealed about you taken down. You weren’t quite sure what you were going to do from here on out— your sensitive profession had been exposed and this was something that would quite likely impact you for the rest of your life. 

     How could you be expected to be taken seriously to get a career when you had been trashed and defamed on the internet for your job? It seemed that still, no one quite understood sex work and that it was just as legitimate a profession as anything else, and you knew from the start that sex workers were looked down upon. You had done everything right— you used an alias, you didn’t give away personal information. And now, your face was plastered on gossip websites, with links to the very cam site you used. 

     Needless to say, you were stressed. But, you weren’t panicking. You were processing everything and it was all so overwhelming. In the grand scheme of things, you weren’t being nitpicky about the specifics. You had faith that you would figure this all out, that everything would be back to normal soon. Whatever that meant for your future, you weren’t sure. But you refused to lose hope. Not yet. You’d pick yourself back up from the ground and dust yourself off, just like you’d done so many times before. The difference was that Steve would be there for you every step of the way.

     Steve was out again handling important business. He’d talked to you before leaving and you understood that he’d have to be gone for a few hours trying to juggle this insane situation. In the meantime, you decided that since you had time, you’d call back everyone who had been bombarding you with messages and calls. Firstly, you’d call your parents. You dialed your dad’s number and he picked up almost immediately. 

You could hear him calling your mother’s name so she could talk to you too, and you heard her scramble up to the phone to talk. 

      “YN, what the hell is going on?” your mother asked, but she sounded more concerned than upset. 

     “We’ve been calling all day, we’ve been worried sick. Everyone’s been asking about you and we had no clue what was going on,” your father continued. 

You were surprised at their tone. Perhaps ever since your awkward dinner with them where you’d revealed what was likely your biggest secret, there had been a shift. You were surprised when they were so quick to accept you despite being so distant from you your whole life, being the root of your emotional issues. You sighed, rubbing your forehead,

     “Look, I know it’s a lot.”

     “Are you okay, sweetie? Be honest,” your mother pleaded, and you made a face,

     “I’m fine, it’s been a stressful day, but-”

      “No, I mean in general. We… we know we haven’t been talking much, but this… this whole thing, it’s-- we’re worried about you. You just go off to New York without saying a thing to anyone? You’re in some secret relationship with a man twice your age?” 

You understood their concern, but at the same time, you knew you weren’t being irrational by doing these things. Instead, you were doing what made you happy. This wasn’t a spontaneous, crazy decision. You and Steve were both extremely logical people, and you weren’t unstable just because you did this without anyone knowing. You had your reasons. 

     “Look, I… this is something I did on my own. I’m an adult and I’m doing what's best for me. And, obviously, there was a reason I didn’t tell anyone. I mean, he’s- he’s not just some random guy. And what we have is… you might not understand it, but that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me.”

     “I just wish you felt like you could talk to us.”

     “Yeah. Me too. Listen, I just wanted to call you to let you know that I’m fine. I don’t really know what’s next, but I’ll try to keep you updated, alright? Don’t worry about me, everything will be okay.”

      “What about all those posts about you? The things people are saying, it’s- and your safety! This is serious.”

     “Dad, I know. We are working it out, believe me. I’m just as worried as you are. I’m probably more worried. But you know what, I knew the risk in coming here, and I knew what I was doing. And I’m still glad I did it. Steve means so much to me, and I’m not gonna let this change that. But all that matters is that I’m okay. I just wanted to call you and tell you that.”

      “Well, we’re glad to hear that you’re okay. There’s just so much about you that we’re just now finding out, we have every reason to be worried.”

     “Yes, you do, and you’re right. If things were different… well. Anyways. I love you both, I’ll call you later,” you said, hanging up without waiting for them to reply.

At least that was off your plate. 

| | |

     The next morning, you woke up with Steve by your side, holding you in his arms. Needless to say, yesterday had been incredibly eventful, and by the time Steve got back home, there was nothing left to do except sleep the day off. It seemed as if your troubles were far in the past, considering how quickly everything had been handled. You had to hand it to Steve, he was the one who had to talk to so many people yesterday- legal teams, PR, his team members, just to clear the air. And of course, people were still talking about everything. But the initial shock and widespread reaction from yesterday was already beginning to calm down. It was still a bit dark in the bedroom, and Steve was still asleep, his arms wrapped around you.

     You stretched to reach your phone on the side table and started scrolling. There were still articles up and pictures of you up, but Steve was working to wipe those out to protect your privacy. You chewed on your bottom lip worriedly. Even after this was all over, you’d have to figure out what the hell you were going to do. Would you have to stop camming? Would you have to throw away all hopes of any other career as well? This was all on your mind.

     Suddenly, Steve’s hand was wrapped around your phone, pulling it out of your grasp. He sighed sleepily, his voice still groggy and deep, 

     “What’d I tell you about that?”

     “I know…” you pouted, turning to face him. His eyes were closed, but you knew he was listening. “Shouldn’t keep looking for updates.”

     “Mm,” Steve hummed. “You’ll be alright, YN. I’ll make sure of that.”

     “Promise?” you asked.

     “I promise.”

That was all the reassurance you needed for now.

     Eventually, you both woke up and got ready for the day. You weren’t doing much of anything, since you’d have to stay low for a few days. But it meant you got to be in each other’s company all day, so you weren’t exactly complaining. You were laying in between Steve’s legs on the couch, your head resting on his chest. 

     Today was supposed to be your last day, but due to recent events, there had been a change in plans. You would probably stay here until this all settled, then go back to Cali and deal with business back home. Luckily for you, your friends were supportive all the way. They were astonished and shocked of course, but incredibly happy for you. They’d be there for you just as much as Steve would. 

     “You okay, doll?” Steve asked, and you glanced up at him.

     “Good as I can be. Are you okay?” you asked.

     “Better than yesterday,” Steve chuckled, his blue eyes glimmering. “My team is still working on taking down any private information about you, by the end of this week, we should be all good-”

     “Steve,” you flopped over, straddling his legs now. Instinctively, he reached up to caress your arm and your thigh. 

     “Hmm?” he hummed, looking up at you. 

     “What happens after this? I mean, as far as I’m concerned, any hopes of getting a serious job are kind of fucked now.”

     “That’s not true,” Steve furrowed his brows, frowning. He didn’t want you to feel like this incident would mess up your whole future.

     “Steve, I majored in environmental policy. That’s like, government job type shit. I have to be someone who’s reputable. And I don’t know many people who are looking to hire a porn star sugar baby. I mean, that’s what everyone’s been calling me.”

     “But you’re not that. And once we clear up all this, I promise you, no one will think that about you. you’ Besides, Stark Industries is always looking for people like that, you could work for-”

You put your finger to his lips, shaking your head with a small smile,

     “Ah ah ah. You know I like to do things myself.”

You didn’t want to just beat around the bush and take the easy way out of all this. You liked knowing that you were accomplishing what you were accomplishing all on your own. If you worked for Steve or his team, it would just feel like giving up.

     “I know, and I love that about you. But why make things so hard on yourself?”

You shrugged,

     “I don’t see it like that. I see it like… like making my own way. You know? I’d probably be set for life if I worked for Tony Stark. But… I don’t know, it’s just a thing I have. I like to get it myself.”

Steve sighed slowly, shaking his head with a sly smile. His girl, such a go-getter. That aspect of you was honestly a turn-on for him. You didn’t want anyone to be able to say they did something major for you, and even though there were flaws within that ideology, he had to give you credit where credit was due. You were a hard worker. You liked to do things on your own and know that you were where you were because of your own discipline and hard work. Not because your boyfriend had recommended you.

     “You are something else,” Steve shook his head.

     “Mm hmm,” you grinned knowingly, stretching your hands along his chest. 

     “Listen, I can’t predict the future. But I will be there for you. And I know how much you like to hustle and do things on your own, but it’s good to accept help sometimes, doll. And I want to help you through this. Don’t think the worst of everything. You’ve always managed, even in the worst of times. This is no different. No job you apply for is going to try to judge you, I can guarantee you that. I’ll make sure of that, no matter how much you try to stop me.”

You scoffed, smirking,

      “You’re such a guy.”

      “I do it for you.”

Accepting help. Maybe Steve was right. Just because you accepted someone’s help didn’t mean you hadn’t done something on your own. And when it came to something like this, you needed all the help you could get, even if you didn’t want to admit that. It didn’t make you any less of an independent woman. 

| | |

      You woke up to thousands more follower requests the next day as you ate breakfast sitting at the kitchen counter. Steve was at the stove, finishing up his own plate, and you were chewing your eggs pensively as you scrolled through your Instagram. Ever since the day everything went down, you’d been getting a lot of attention. Most of it was honestly unwanted. Magazines you actually read were DMing you, asking to interview you, wanting the inside scoop on “the life of Captain America’s girlfriend.” You didn’t pay them any mind, because that was attention you didn’t want. You cringed to think of yourself being interviewed by a reporter about personal matters for fifteen minutes of fame. 

     But the attention wasn’t all bad, and now that you thought about it, maybe your future wouldn’t be so scary. Whether you liked it or not, you were almost like a celebrity now, and celebrities always had their scandals and their speculations, and they still got booked. Maybe this was meant to be, to steer your life in a different direction. 

     It didn’t seem ideal, and you didn’t even want fame. You certainly didn’t want to be known as “Steve Rogers’ girlfriend.” If you knew one thing, it was that you were going to make a name out of yourself before people tried to make one for you. Now that you were thinking about it, you could honestly seize this opportunity. 

     Even the sales for your clothing brand had hiked up since that day. People actually took an interest in what you had to offer, and you’d rather they take an interest in that than your personal life. You had no real interest in becoming some mystical figure or some it girl who was on Steve’s arm. You were just a regular, hardworking girl from California, and you wouldn’t lose sight of that. But if this was going to happen, you were going to take advantage of it. 

     “Steve,” you said his name, and he turned to face you, putting his plate together.

     “Yeah?”

     “Look at my Instagram,” you pointed your phone screen towards him and he squinted. “All these follower requests. And I keep getting orders, this is insane.”

Steve grinned, beaming. He was glad that something good was coming out of all this for you. He knew you didn’t want or like attention, but this went to show that all eyes on you wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He knew you knew how to flip it and turn it into something beneficial for you. You weren’t the kind of girl to bask in attention just because. You would make something out of this. 

     “I’m proud, YN, honestly. You know that’s all you, right?”

You chuckled, shaking your head,

      “Kinda crazy to wrap my head around. I don’t wanna be this sensationalized person or this public figure, but, fuck. This isn’t at all how I imagined my life going. I could make something out of this. It’s such a turn around, but maybe it was supposed to happen.”

     “I’m sorry about all this unwanted attention. But if I know you, you’ll make it work.”

It was interesting, this unwanted celebrity. You had to accept that people would start to know you. You could capitalize off this and highlight your brand, make people pay attention to that instead of your private life. You could even put your studies to work and create an environmental company. You wouldn’t just work for Stark Industries, you’d create an industry of your own. Of course, this was all in theory, and you had to gather yourself before you did those things. But the fact that this was possible just because of some unwanted attention reminded you that you could always flip a bad situation into something ten times better.

| | |

     “Fuck, Steve, I can’t,” you were panting heavily, sweat dripping down your forehead as you grasped onto his biceps. 

      Safe to say, since you were laying low and there wasn’t much to do, this was a very reliable option, every time. Now that the stress of the past few days was winding down, you were finally able to focus on what you had both been neglecting, which was each other’s bodies. Every time Steve was inside you, it was as good as the first time, if not better. You’d been going at it for hours now, partially because Steve didn’t have anything else to do and his endurance was ridiculous. You almost wanted to slap his pretty face for being able to go so long like this, drawing out your pain and your pleasure so effortlessly, only to kiss his cheek afterwards. 

     “Yes you can, doll, I know you can,” Steve said, not nearly as breathless as you were— it was safe to say sex with Steve was a workout. “Come for me just one more time.”

     “Mm,” you whined, lifting yourself up with the help of Steve’s hands clasped beneath your shaking thighs, feeling him shift inside you. You cursed, biting down on your lip and glancing down at where you two met with your brows wrung together. 

You were a mess. Both you and Steve had already came multiple times, but Steve wasn’t in a rush. He was honestly handcrafted by the devil. And since you were together, Steve had grown so much more confident. You switched in bed, sometimes you took the lead and sometimes Steve did, and sometimes it wasn’t about who was in the lead. But right now, Steve had you about to beg for mercy. 

     “Fuck, that looks so good, just watching me stretch you out like that,” Steve groaned, his eyes lowering to watch you slowly drop up and down on his cock, which was coated in your slick arousal. “You like this? Riding me for hours, coming over and over again on my cock?”

You shuddered with an almost humiliating moan, nodding your head because you weren’t able to speak. But Steve wasn’t letting you off that easy. He gripped your jaw with his hand, prying your mouth open.

      “Use your words,” he said, nodding slowly and mouthing ‘yes.’

      “Yes,” you stuttered out, feeling as Steve pulsed inside of you. You sounded ridiculous, pathetic, and you knew you looked absolutely filthy in the best way possible. You began to ramble. “Yes, yes, I love when you take me like this and— fuck— force me to come for you.”

     “Mmm,” Steve hummed like he was taking your words into consideration, mulling it over in his mind. “Yeah. You love this. You look so pretty like this.”

Pretty wasn’t the word you’d use to describe it. It was messy. You were practically drooling, and your body felt as exposed as it had ever been. Steve’s own cum from the previous times he came was pouring out of you each time you slid down onto him, and you were incredibly wet still. The sound your bodies made meeting was almost criminal. You were hot and sticky and sweaty and still somehow ridiculously gorgeous to Steve, and you looked even better when he was torturing you with pleasure. 

     You gasped raggedly when Steve had the audacity to bring his fingers down to your clit, those thick, unforgettable fingers that he used to stretch you out every time before you took his cock, rubbing harsh circles against your sensitive clit. Your whole body seemed to shudder, and Steve chuckled lowly, not even trying to hide the smirk that appeared on his face. Oh, you would so be getting him back for this. 

     “That feel good, doll?”

     “Fuck,” you whined, your hand flinging to his wrist to keep his fingers there doing the same motion. 

      Your body seemed to tighten and coil up, your eyes squeezing shut before you let go, and before you knew it, you were cumming on his cock. Or more like squirting, the way it seemed never ending and made your whole body convulse. Steve groaned as you soaked his torso and his legs, stilling yourself on his length and riding your orgasm out. He must have come inside you a few times while you were squirting. Wet tears, the good, hot kind, were forming down your cheeks as you come for what feels like the hundredth time in the span of a few slow, tantalizing hours. 

      “There you go, darling, I knew you could do it,” Steve finally pulled out of you, still hard against his stomach. He reached up and wiped the tears off your face. “Now do that again on my face.”

Fuck. You’d get him back another day.

| | |

      “Oh fuck, right there,” you sighed in ecstasy. 

     Steve’s hands were kneading into your back with expertise. He seemed to know just what he was doing, relieving all the tension from your spine and shoulders, and god knows you needed it. It had been about a week since the news came out, and everything seemed much less urgent now. 

     Reports about you two were dwindling, especially because you had stayed lowkey and didn’t flaunt your relationship about town. But it was almost freeing that you had the liberty to do so now, even if your relationship had been unfairly exposed. At least now, you could go out together without wondering if you’d get caught. 

     Steve chuckled and finished up, rolling off of you and facing you on the bed, his eyes glittering as he smiled at you. 

      “You know,” you started, reaching your hand out to stroke his cheek. “I’m kinda glad this all happened. Is that selfish?” 

      “No,” Steve grinned, shaking his head and reveling in the touch of your hand on his cheek. He grasped your wrist, gazing into your eyes. 

      These past few months had been such a whirlwind for the both of you. The both of you were doing things that surprised you, that made you endlessly happy. Steve had never felt more grateful for anything or anyone in his life. You helped him grow, and he did the same for you. He couldn’t see his future without you, and he didn’t even want to imagine it. He knew you were irreplaceable, he knew this was meant to be. Your odd circumstances and the unconventional way you met seemed to emphasize that truth. There was a reason why he had been so blue without you, and there was a reason why he had come back. Deep down, he knew all along that it was worth it, that you were worth it. Nothing else had ever been so clear to him, especially in that moment, gazing into your deep, warm eyes. 

His heart blossomed with that irrevocable feeling, and before he could stop himself, the words were bubbling out of his mouth, 

      “I love you.”

You didn’t have to think, didn’t have to second guess yourself before you replied. You knew it all along, it was just a matter of time before one of you actually said it. And now, after you’d been through so much together, after you’d taught each other so much, and healed from so much as a collective, there was no reluctance. You weren’t scared to admit that it was true.

      “I love you,” you said, with a soft grin and a dreamy look in your eyes.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there together, looking at each other and kissing and holding each other, but it was enough time to make you forget the world. 

ayeeee!!! as a bonus, i’m including this lil thing i made, it’s supposed to be what i imagine moonrose’s IG to look like! the pictures are not her faceclaims, they’re just black women that i imagine moonrose to look like LMAO but she’s free to look like whatever u want her to ♡ this is her aesthetic!!

ENJOY! new chapter soon hopefully!!!!

tags added later ♡ 

[oceanmonsters]

What was wrong with FFH that made you so angry?

oof okay so this is long, apologies for ranting abt old mcu & tony stark in 2021 bc I know most people won’t care but this movie made me unspeakably angry and just thinking about it is enough to make my never want to touch the mcu again.

There’s obviously general issues wrt MCU Spider-Man AND how much I completely fucking hate them keeping the blip in as a plot point instead of just having them reverse it, but the main issue with the film itself was that EDITH and the plot surrounding that was literally SO stupid both objectively and in the context of the MCU.

Tony basically left Peter these glasses which essentially would give him all of the power of Iron Man, including but not limited to: being able to spy on any citizen and have access to any of their private personal information and oh yeah, ACCIDENTALLY calling a drone strike on a bus full of teenagers. He is basically giving Peter the power to unilaterally enact justice and destruction on whoever the fuck he wants at a moment’s notice. It’s not a power anyone should have or even want, least of all a 17 year old. Except when he tries to bring up his concerns he’s dismissed and so he tries to give up the power to someone he considers more responsible but then it turns out that that is also the wrong decision because Mysterio is actually evil. And then Peter’s whole character arc over the movie is based around him stepping up to the responsibility and taking the glasses at the end, completely ignoring the fact that Peter is 100% perfectly justified in not wanting that kind of power because he’s 17 and it’s literally an insane amount of responsibility. The whole Spider-Man thing is with great power comes great responsibility and Peter actually did the mature and right thing by saying “Actually, no, I don’t think I can handle this responsibility so I can’t take this power” but that was framed as a flaw that needed to be overcome. Which is objectively a terrible plot.

And it gets even worse when you look at it wrt Tony and the whole MCU. I think there was a post I saw ages ago that explains it better but basically Tony’s character development in the MCU after his movies is just a mess, and it basically goes like:

Tony in TWS: there’s a bunch of fucked up shit that’s happened, having universal oversight and control over everything in the world to be able to take out threats before they get to catastrophe level will keep us safe, and this should be in the hands of an organisation like SHIELD.

Tony in AOU: right so it turns out that i was literally enacting HYDRA’s evil plans and Steve had to stop it. No way anyone could’ve seen that coming (apart from Steve who literally saw the fascist red flags from the very beginning, but let’s ignore that). Anyway, the ONLY reason that plan didn’t work because it was in the hands of an organisation like SHIELD which turned out to be corrupt and bad people used the perfectly good idea for nefarious purposes. However, the idea was good so to make it infallible I’m going to make the same thing but controlled by a super powerful AI.

Tony in CW: Okay so... another bust and more people died. But instead of admitting that creating Ultron was the main mistake, instead I’m gonna project my guilt about that onto the people that died while we were saving the world from Ultron and act as if that was the main issue and more oversight would’ve prevented that for some reason. And also ignore that Ultron being created mostly had nothing to do with enhanced individuals at all but with me fucking around with AI and finding out. I will somewhat reflect on the power a single individual should have but instead of making any personal changes or reflection I will instead advocate for all my teammates to be restricted even though their powers, unlike mine, are inherent to them, making it a lot worse for them because it’s literally controlling their actual bodies and how they can use them (but let’s skip past that because CW is not the main point of this and I have a lot more I could say). The point is that we should have accountability and oversight from a much less fallible body rather than taking everything into our own hands.

Tony apparently sometime before his death in Endgame: okay so ACTUALLY the solution is taking all of this great power, a lot more than even I had for most of my career, and give it to a 17 year old because I personally believe that he’s a good guy and has got what it takes. Because suddenly we’re past the needing accountability and oversight phase and into the “this random teenager from New York should hold the lives of thousands if not millions in his hands” phase. Even though I didn’t trust captain fucking america, an adult, experienced, long time superhero and soldier who literally saw the red flags in the SHIELD thing after looking at it for 2 seconds, to be able to decide where to throw his metal frisbee without UN oversight a few years ago. THIS is the ultimate solution to my ultimate question from the beginning of how to keep the world safe.

Like I hate to do Tony Stark discourse in 2021 but this was the movie that made me go “oh so they really will just have Tony do anything but it’ll be framed as good just because it’s Tony even when his actions are objectively wrong... okay.” I already felt that in CW but this was rly the last straw with the MCU for me, like it was really the movie where I was like “yeah this is all bullshit and no one in charge cares about actually making good stories.”

[were-all-idjits-here]

Still Alive, Part I: What About Dean?

Request from @totallyluciferr​ : the reader lives in a universe where Supernatural is fiction and they’re a big fan of SPN, so the reader is re-watching the episode where Dean and Castiel gets zapped to Purgatory, they suddenly get zapped to Sam and Amelia’s house. Then the reader tries to tell Sam that Dean is trapped in Purgatory and needs help. The reader ends up meeting and saving Dean. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: angst, cursing

A/N: this was meant to be a one-shot, but I have no self control and it got away from me and became super long. In an attempt to not make this 5000 miles long or make the end super rushed, I’ll be posting this in three parts. Hoping to have all three up by the 27th. @totallyluciferr​ thank you so much for being patient while I took forever to write this. Some mental health issues have made writing hard, but I want to make sure I take the time to get this done well the first time.

~~Read here on AO3~~

You noticed how heavy your head felt before you even opened your eyes. A hard, cold surface laid beneath you and you frowned. The last thing you remember was laying on the couch in your shitty apartment, trying to drown out your screaming neighbors on one side and the blaring music on the other with your favorite show, Supernatural. It had partially been working, even if you were annoyed at having to turn subtitles on to be able to understand some of what they were saying. You had almost nodded off right when Dean and Cas got zapped to Purgatory in the season 7 finale when there had been a bright white light. Had you fallen to the floor maybe? But what had the light been?

You groaned and slowly sat up, bringing a hand up to your head. Your forehead bumped something cold and you slowly opened your eyes, backing up a bit. You were suddenly very awake as you realized there was a gun pointed at you. You were even more awake when you followed the hand holding it up to the face and realized you were sprawled out on a nicely manicured lawn in front of Sam Winchester.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment before you broke the silence with a loud, “What the fuck!”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking,” Sam growled, still pointing his gun at you. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

You blinked, jumping as you heard the safety click off. “Take it easy. I have no clue how I got here. I was on my couch one minute and now I’m here and this can’t possibly be real and holy shit, I must’ve had too much to drink and oh my god you’re Sam fucking Winchester, I thought this was just a TV show, what the fuck is going on—”

“Okay, easy, easy!” Sam lowered his gun, but still kept it tightly in his hand. He frowned before holding out a hand to help you up.

You hesitantly took it and let him pull you to your feet. Sam clicked the safety back on the gun and tucked it into the waistband of his pants. He roughly grabbed your wrist and yanked you across the backyard, up the steps of the back porch and through a back door into a dimly lit kitchen. You recognized the house as Amelia’s from the show and realized you must be somewhere either in or close to the season 8 premiere. In or close to the season 8 premiere—holy hell, had you seriously somehow been Blue scadooed into the TV? That couldn’t be possible, no fucking way—

“Hey, hey, hey—breathe!” Sam suddenly knelt in front of you from where he’d been rummaging through the cupboards. You suddenly realized the faint wheezing sound you’d been hearing was coming from you and it felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest. You grabbed the table for support, your palm coming down flat on top of a fork. The prongs stung your hand, confirming this was real. You wouldn’t be able to feel pain in a dream, right?

A brown paper bag was suddenly thrust in front of you and you panted into it gratefully. After a few minutes, you could feel your pulse and breathing slow.

“That’s it, nice and slow,” Sam said, taking a deep breath in and slowly blowing it out. You mimicked him for several minutes until you felt coherent enough to set the bag down on the counter. “Hold this,” Sam said quietly, gently putting the silver fork into your hand. When nothing happened, he handed you a glass of water next. “Drink this.” Again, nothing happened and Sam sat down across from you, seeming satisfied.

You let a deep breath out slowly before asking, “How the hell is this real?”

Sam shook his head. It took all your restraint not to laugh at the famous wifi-shaped wrinkles that formed above his brow. “I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair, then down his face. “What did you mean you thought this was just a TV show? And how do you know my name?”

“It’s gonna sound insane.”

“I specialize in insane. Try me.”

You swallowed hard, taking another drink of water. “So, um…I came from this…world, I guess, where your and Dean’s lives are a TV show and you’re fictional characters. I was actually on the episode that shows the events that happened probably…six-ish months ago, fell asleep, saw a bright white light and then woke up in your backyard.”

Sam nodded. “Dean and I got zapped to some sort of universe forever ago where our lives were a TV show. We kept getting mistaken for the actors.”

“Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. Why would you wanna watch our lives anyway? It’s just a bunch of darkness and death and despair.” His face seemed to sink at the last sentence and you noticed his dark circles and sunken cheeks. You glanced at the clock you noticed behind him to see it read 3:30am. So he wasn’t sleeping. It made sense after everything he’d been through.

“Well, I mean…at first, it was kind of cathartic, watching the good guys win, ya know? Then I just got so attached to you and Dean as characters—er, people, I guess, that I just kept watching. I just wanted to root for you and watch you win.”

Sam smiled sadly. “Well, thanks, I guess. Haven’t been a lot of wins lately.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, “I’m sorry. Thanks for saving the world and stuff.”

Sam gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, avoiding your gaze as he picked some stray paint off the edge of the kitchen table. “So…what did you mean when you said you were on the episode about events six months or so ago? What happened?”

You hesitated, realizing how fragile of a state he was still in. “You sure you wanna know?”

His dark circles seemed even more prominent now. “When we…lost Dean?”

“Yeah,” you barely whispered.

Sam nodded, biting his lip and looking at his lap, renewing his efforts to pick at the table. The two of you sat in awkward silence for several minutes.

“I’m sorry you had to watch that,” you finally murmured.

“Yeah, me too.” He paused. “I’ve seen my brother die before, but it always felt like I could bring him back, ya know? This time…there isn’t even a body left to bring back. He’s really gone for good this time.” He sniffled. “But, I’ll figure out how to get you home, don’t worry—”

“Dean’s not dead,” you blurted.

Sam’s head shot up and he stared at you bug-eyed. “What?”

“He’s not dead. When monsters die, they go to Purgatory, which is where Dick went. That’s where Dean and Cas are. They’re still alive.”

Sam squinted suspiciously. “Says who? The show?”

You nodded. What followed was a long string of questioning from Sam about events from the show, no doubt trying to find out how accurate it was to his real life—which still felt insane to say; you still weren’t completely convinced one of your neighbors’ drug fumes hadn’t floated through your vents and triggered some sort of acid dream—and you answered them to the best of your ability.

By the time 45 minutes had flown by full of questions, you sighed. “Look, Sam, you said you’d been to my universe, so you know it’s a real place. I passed all your tests, so I’m not a monster that’s trying to drag you out of your apple pie life. How long has it been since Dean and Cas disappeared?”

“Six months,” Sam answered, his face still skeptic.

“Okay, so Dean was trapped in Purgatory for a year in the show. There’s a portal in Purgatory that lets humans escape, since they’re not supposed to be there. I don’t know how the hell we would do it, but if we can find where he emerges from Purgatory and somehow get a message to him, we can get him out.”

Sam opened his mouth to reply when a woman’s voice behind you suddenly said, “Sam? What’s going on?”

You spun around to see a sleepy Amelia standing in her PJs, looking at you blearily with wary dark eyes.

Sam glanced at you, then smoothly said, “She was on her way home from a friend’s sleepover and got lost. She stopped here to ask for help. I know her address and I’m gonna drive her home.”

Amelia frowned. “You were on your way home from a friend’s sleepover at almost five in the morning?”

“Things were getting a little too rowdy for me.” You hoped you looked and sounded convincing. “They’re big partiers and I guess I didn’t realize how big till the drugs came out and…” You did your best to look sheepish and shrugged. “I noped out of there.”

“Oh, yikes,” Amelia said. She looked at Sam. “You’ll be back soon?”

“Yeah,” he answered, grabbing a familiar set of car keys off the counter behind him. He stood and gave her a parting kiss. “Go back to bed. I’ll join you soon.” He motioned for you to follow as Amelia trudged back up the steps to the bedroom.

You stood in awe for a moment as Sam led you to the garage. The Impala. Baby. You gently reached out and touched the immaculate black paint, feeling a strange sense of calm as you looked over the car. Sam watched you from the driver’s side. “Big part of the show, I take it?”

“It’s practically its own character,” you replied. “If something happened to Baby, I’d probably cry.”

Sam chuckled as he climbed in. “Dean would’ve loved you.”

You climbed in after him, making sure to take care with how you shut the door. You sighed as you settled down on the leather seat. This felt good. This felt like home. “Would, Sam. He’s still alive.”

Sam glanced at you warily before opening the garage door and firing up the engine. He didn’t reply as you backed out of the driveway and sped down the road. “There’s a motel about five miles away. I’ll get you a room for a couple days while I figure out how to get you home. Don’t worry about the bill.”

“I don’t want to go home, Sam, I want to find Dean.”

“Listen, this isn’t a life you should want just because some TV show romanticizes hunting. Hunting isn’t some noble, epic good versus evil battle. It’s brutal and all it has is death and darkness and pain. You lose people all the time, there’s risk of you dying all the time, you see things you can never unsee—”

“Yes, I know, I do watch the show. I’m not saying the life is like that, I’m saying you’re doing something. You’re saving people and through that, proving your worth. Plus it’s not like I don’t have my own trauma, you know. My life home is shit. I don’t even have anyone or anything, a shit apartment, a shit job—”

“I’m not saying you don’t have your own trauma or that it isn’t as valid. But you seriously think this is better? If it weren’t for Amelia, I wouldn’t have anyone right now either.”

“But Dean’s alive, Sam! We can save him!”

“Just stop talking about it, okay?”

“Why won’t you believe me? I aced your quiz back in the kitchen.”

“I just don’t know if I believe you. That’s a show, it’s Hollywoodized! This is real life!”

“Do you really not believe or do you just not want to believe me?” Sam didn’t reply, but you could see how white his knuckles were as they gripped the wheel. You had always been frustrated with the fact that Sam didn’t look for Dean in the show, but had always held a level of sympathy for him. That level was quickly evaporating. If it was Dean you were talking to, he probably would’ve taken any chance—no matter how small—that his brother was alive and done something with it. You saw the motel fast approaching out the window and knew you were quickly losing your chance. “How many times as Kevin called you, hm? Kevin needs help, I have proof that your brother’s alive and we can save him and you’re seriously just gonna sit here on your ass—”

The Impala’s tires screeched as Sam made a hard right into the motel parking lot, barely putting the car in park before yanking the keys out of the ignition. “Stay here,” he growled before slamming the door closed behind him and stomping into the lobby.

You fumed in your seat, pulling out your phone to find that you did have signal. You quickly opened the Notes app and jotted down the place where you remembered Dean emerges from Purgatory in the show before you forgot. Since someone wasn’t interested in helping you, maybe you would just have to make a visit yourself. But he wouldn’t escape for another six months. How the hell were you going to speed that time frame up? Witchcraft, maybe? But you didn’t know anything about hunting. If you tried to contact a witch, you would end up dead for sure.

Just as you were googling where the nearest library was, a knock on your car window made you jump. Sam stood there, still fuming and holding two keys in his hand. You rolled your eyes and got out, following him into room 205 on the second floor. He slammed the door behind you, pointing a long finger at you. “You stay in this room until I can figure out a way to get you home—and you are going home. Don’t get any funny ideas.”

“So you’re trapping me here? Should I assume both of those keys are for you then?”

He handed over a key, along with a credit card to your surprise. “This is for clothes and food. I don’t know how long it’ll take me to get you home.” He handed you his phone next. “Put in your number and name.”

You begrudgingly complied and handed him your phone to do the same.

“Stay,” Sam said again as he made his way towards the door. “You’ll thank me later.”

“What about Dean?”

Sam sighed, pausing in the doorway. “We’ll see. But there’s no way he’s still alive.”

“I’m telling you, there is.”

You saw Sam’s shoulders heave for a brief moment. “I’ll look into it.” With that, he slammed the door behind him and you heard the click of the lock, completing your cage.

[thewondersofsmut]

Happy Ending

Request: Hi sorry to bother u but can u do a deanxreader where reader has back pains and dean offers to give her a massage, and he sits on her lower back/butt area and it turns into something more. Thanks! I understand if u can't write it b/c u prob get a Lotta requests. – Anon

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Warnings: language, smut

Word Count: 1873

A/N: I’m back! And Im posting a few fics today! Feedback is loved!

Masterlist

“Son of a bitch,” You groaned, pressing your free hand to your lower back, and swinging your machete to your other shoulder. “You good there, (y/n)?” You looked up to Dean, dragging the vampire’s dead body to the pile. “Peachy.” You faked a smile. Dean couldn’t stop his body from reacting to the noises you elicited, his hips jerking forward. “What’s up?” He asked, being better at expressing his feelings of concern towards you, not that he didn’t care, he always assumed that getting too close to you could cost your life, but you had quickly proven that trusting and expressing to each other would be good, considering that you’ve saved his life multiple times. 

“Just some back ache, comes with aging,” You joked, making him chuckle. “We should head back, Sammy’s gunna need meds, I promised to pick some up for him.” Your voice sounded hoarse. “I think we should get something for you, maybe some muscle patches too?” Dean suggested, shrugging. You couldn’t help but smile. He’s gotten better at showing he cared, a lot. It also helps that you know of his tiny crush on you. More like large, according to Sam, ever since your first encounter with them as you saved them. “Yeah, he hasn’t gotten sick in a while.” Dean affirmed and you both trotted to baby after setting the bodies aflame. 

Dean always glanced at you as a whine escapes your parted lips, your hand trying to alleviate pressure from your back as you sat. You promptly twisted your upper body, grounding your feet and you heard the satisfying cracklings of your spine. You did it on the opposite side and you side, a little bit of the pain leaving your body. “Holy shit, (y/n), is that even safe?” He asked, stunned. You giggled, another sound he loved to hear. “It helps.” You winked and he chuckled, focusing on the road once again.

You had dropped by the pharmacy, got a lot of necessities, medicine, and first aid and all that to stock up the bunker, your new found home. After Dean getting a slice of pie, you were both heading back. 

You and Dean brought all your stuff inside and Sam was in the library, on his laptop with a blanket draped around his back. “Hey Sammy,” You greeted, acquiring Dean’s nickname for him early on. You were two years older than him and he’d looked up to you as a sister, even though he still found himself being like an ‘over protective brother’ to you too. “Hey guys, how was the hunt?” He asked. “Totally good.” You replied, your smile turning sour when you bent down to put your bag down. “Are you hurt?” Sam immediately asked, pushing his chair back to stand up.

“No—no, I must’ve pulled something in my back, just gettin’ old,” You joked and he chuckled. 

“You’re not old.” Dean snickered, playfully rolling his eyes. “Feels like it.” You scrunched your face and the brothers laughed. “I’m going to shower.” You announced and Dean decided to make soup for the three of you, most especially his sick brother. “You’re ogling her.” Sam teased, smirking at his brother. Dean scoffed. “Am not.” “If you say so.” Sam teased and Dean ran for the kitchen. 

After letting hot water run down the expanse of your back for another minute, you stepped out of the shower, wiping down your whole body, putting on some loose jumper and some shorts. You went back to the library just as Dean was bringing a bowl of hot soup to Sam, who thanked him. “Eat up, sweetheart, this should help you too.” He grinned you murmured a thank you, before sitting down. “I think you two should rest and the three of us can do a case once you’re all better.” You said.

Sam smiled. “Don’t you like hunting with me? Like we used to back when Sam was in Stanford?” Dean pouted and you thought that was the cutest thing ever. You giggled and Sam’s smile grew wide. “I do, Dean, but I’m having issues with my back, and I know you’re pretty beaten up too, a couple of days isn’t gunna hurt.” You smiled and his pout went away. “How ‘bout I make pie tomorrow for us to enjoy?” You asked and he grinned. “Bribery accepted.” He hummed and you and the younger Winchester chuckled. 

After the light dinner, you helped Sam out in the translation he was well occupying himself whilst being sick as Dean offered to clean up. The hours ticked by fast, Sam heavily asleep with the medication he’d taken. You were doing a bit of stretching when Dean passed by your bedroom. He arched an eyebrow, his eyes slowly looking at the expanse of your legs and the exposed skin by your hips with the jumper hanging low. “You okay there, sweetheart?” Dean asked and you looked up at him. You groaned and stood up. “Just, it’s either my spine’s all fucked up for I have a ton of knots in my back, like those wired earphones.” You scoffed and Dean laugh. 

“Would you like me to give you a massage?” His tone had no malice but your brain went to multiple directions. “Yes,” You voiced out before you actually thought of it. You bit your lip and he just gave you a soft smile, entering your room then closing the door behind him. You took off your jumper to reveal a slim bralette you like to wear to sleep. 

Dean tried his best not to groan at the sight, it wasn’t the first time he saw you in your underwear, heck, he’d accidentally seen you naked before, as you did to him. “I think I’ve got oil somewhere here,” Your voice cut out his incoherent thoughts and just nodded. You fished it out of your drawer and handed it to him before laying on your stomach on the bed. “’S it okay for me to sit on you?” He asked and you hummed in approval. He did as he suggested, sitting and trying not to put too much weight on your plump ass. 

Dean poured a little bit of oil on your back, glistening in the light and he began to press his thumb on your muscles. You tried to bite back a moan but was unsuccessful. He could feel himself twitch at the sound but powered through, going lower on your back until he was massaging the small area between your ass and lower back, squeezing your hips. His hands felt soft despite having rough and calloused edges. The sheets in front of you were bunched up in your fists and you knew you were getting wetter as the seconds passed. 

Dean’s hands were going up and down each arm and then back on your shoulders, your neck, then they slowly descended down to your waist. “Fuck, Dean.” You breathed and Dean jolted. He sucked in some air as if gathering some courage and descended to your ass, cupping and squeezing them. He moved towards your legs and started to massage your thighs and legs. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this, (y/n).” When he was coming back up to squeeze your backside.

“Fuck, yes, continue.” You shivered at his tone and mumbled against the pillow and he chuckled darkly at how you’re reacting to his touches. His hands continued to massage your body but he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on the valley of your shoulder and neck and you moaned, body tingling. You pushed back on your ass, Dean groaning as you brushed against his hardening length. “Fuck, baby.” He shut his eyes, his breath hot on your neck. It spurred you on, grinding up to him and his free hand lands on your hips, tight and warningly. 

“Fuck me, Dean.” You whispered, leaning up towards the side where his face was. You moved your head more towards him and he kissed you feverishly. He sat back up, prying your legs open with his hands, this time, slowly running his fingers over your cloth-covered core, your hips bucking in response. Dean hooked his fingers on the waistband of your shorts and underwear, slowly stripping the pieces of clothing off of you, your ass slightly bouncing when it went over them and Dean but his lip, one of his hands grabbing a handful and squeezing. You lifted your hips up and brought your hands up to shimmy off your shorts since Dean got mildly distracted. 

He squeezed your inner thigh and you instinctively tried to close them if not for his strong knees stopping them from moving. His fingers ran through your folds teasing your entrance and you couldn’t help but mewl. Dean clenched his jaw and pulled off his shirt. He then worked on your pants and you had to look back, meeting his eyes as you roamed his body. He gave you a boyish smirk and you swore you could come just by that. “You really want this, (y/n)...?” He whispered, leaning down to kiss your back, making you shiver, feeling his cock press against your ass. 

“Heck yeah, would’ve asked you to massage me a long ass time ago if I knew this would happen.” Your voice was breathy as he started to grind his hips against yours. “Shit, babygirl, wish I’d known, would’ve done it sooner.” He whispered, nibbling on your earlobe, making you wetter by the second. He slowly pushed in, groaning at your tightness. “Fuck.” You pushed back, whimpering when his free hand grabbed your hips and thrusting in fully. “Dean!” You moaned. 

He let you adjust before pulling back and slamming back in. “You’re so tight, baby.” He whispered, kissing your  cheek. “Fuck me, Dean, please.” “Will do, babygirl.” He grunted and proceeded to pound you. Your moans and his grunts were echoing along the walls and you only hoped Sam was snoring away loud enough not to hear you. You were fisting the sheets in your hands as your hips bucked back to him. His thrusts were fast and erratic and soon enough, it was uneven yet hard enough to make you scream. “Fuck, (y/n), coming—“ He grunted. “Fuck!” You screamed. He felt you clench around his throbbing cock. 

“Come for me, babygirl.” He whispered against your ear and you did, moaning out his name along with a string of profanities. He groaned, feeling overwhelmed with your tightness and just as you backed your hip up to him, he came, spilling deeply inside of you. He rode out both your orgasms and slowly lifted himself off of you. You twisted around to lay on your back and he leaned down, kissing you fully. “Are you satisfied with your massage?” He asked with a cocky smirk. You laughed, slapping his chest. “You gotta answer it, (y/n)!” He laughed. “Yes, Dean, it was a very very satisfying happy ending.” You answered with a wink, prompting him to laugh even more. 

He leaned down and pecked your lips. “Well that leaves the question, will we finally be together?” He asked. You heart swelled as you leaned up, kissing him tenderly. “Absolutely.” You whispered. 

Forever Babies:

@incorrect-quoted​ @deviljoonie​ @sallyp-53​ @ilovefanfic86​ @andkatiethings​  @malindacath​ @aunty-peggy​ @myloveofdean​ @miss-kristendior​ @baby7879​ @xtina2191​ @redsalv20​ @hobby27​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @jensens-snackles​ @akshi8278​ @shadowkat-83​ @onethirstyunicorn​ 

Green-Eyed Lovers:

@brindz30​ @polina-93​

SPN Babes:

@adoptdontshoppets​ @lilulo-12​ 

[theredconversegirl]

hi! i’m the anon that asked about blurbs and one shots!! i just thought of a blurb where sakura is bitten by a poisonous bug or something where the venom is slow moving (kinda like sasori’s where the victim dies within three days) but there are serious symptoms like major fatigue, graphic hallucinations and excruciating pain and while sakura is enduring those symptoms all sasuke can do is comfort her until they find a cure?? idk KSKSK im not talented enough to write this but ANGST

Hi there nonny! :) 

Thanks for sending me this prompt! I always liked the idea of Sakura or Sasuke taking care of each other in a situation like this. 

My first attempt to write this was terrible, so I took my time with the second. Also, I’m having computer issues and my writing time is limited because of that 😓

This is my first attempt of writing angst, so please forgive me if it’s not good enough 😬. I had to play a bit with what you suggested, since I think Sasuke wouldn’t wait three days to try to save her, he’d probably teleport to Tsunade asap! 😂

Hope you like it anyway! 💕

Title: “Bane” Rate: T Words: 3854 Warnings: Shinobi AU where Sasuke never left and has both arms.

📌 Read also here: Fanfiction | ao3

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bane | noun { 1. a cause of great distress or annoyance. 2. something, especially poison, which can cause death.

—————————————————————————— 

This was supposed to be an easy mission.

A simple, easy, piece of cake mission – like any diplomatic mission is these days.

As the enemies surround them (not slightly concerned with stealth at all), Sasuke decides, with amusement glinting in his eyes, that nothing is really simple or easy when it comes to Team Seven – even though they are only two this time.

His hand unsheathes his kusanagi with a swift motion, and though it could help them, Sasuke doesn't bother to activate his Sharingan. He hears rather than sees the confidence his teammate has on them when Sakura turns her back to him and tugs at her combat gloves, the leather stretching around her fingers.

Despite the years apart, they both work surprisingly well together. The nearly impeccable teamwork flows like a river does towards the sea; merciless and inevitable.

There's only a moment of hesitancy where hundreds of sharp senbons rain towards him, and although he can probably move in time, Sakura uses her momentum after a kick to push him to the opposite direction.

After that, punches to the ground are synced with swipes of his sword. Right hooks with roundhouse kicks. And when it ends, hardly five minutes later, they are both panting, sharing complacent smiles.

Sasuke feels a warming feeling swirling inside him, a mix of post-battle excitement, the remnants of the adrenaline in his veins, and something else he can't really name. The light buzz accompanies him as he ties all the nukenins and sends a hawk to the Kazekage; they are still in Suna's territory after all.

The warmth dissipates, draining him instantly, when he sees Sakura swaying from foot to foot, a grimace twisting her dainty features.

"What's going on?"

She replies but whatever the answer is, it comes out as an intelligible slur. She tries again and the effort is futile. Her hands flicker green for a second, but the chakra flow cuts off, and that alarms Sasuke.

He might be wrong (and he hopes he is), but Sasuke thinks he knows what's happening to her. He has seen this reaction before – a few times in the Snake's lab, and once on the road – and every time, it was associated with the exposure of poisonous substances. It starts mostly with the inebriated state Sakura is in.

Quickly, Sasuke steps in her personal space and scans her face, neck, her bare arms, turning her around and moving her limbs like she's a ragdoll. He's looking for the point of contact, where most of the substance should still be. He doesn't find anything other than debris though, consequence of her powerful punches.

He exhales slowly, trying to concentrate on their next steps. If Sakura is indeed poisoned, he needs to act quickly. Konoha is about two days away by foot. He doesn't have enough chakra for a teleport. Naruto is Kami-knows-where. And they are still in the middle of the freaking desert.

As he runs the possibilities through his mind, Sasuke glances down, still holding her arm, and sees the moment where she struggles to move her red dress. Unconsciously, he extends his hand to help her, bunching up one side of the dress above her waist. He holds the fabric there, trying to avoid her eyes as she mumbles something close to a thank you.

There's an angry scratch above her hip, not larger than five inches, which is quickly swelling. Sakura tries to close the broken skin with her chakra, but it's useless; it flickers a few times feebly and then fades.

Whatever poison coated the weapon responsible for this wound, Sasuke thinks, it reacts slowly, with the intention to catch the opponent off guard, no doubt. It's eating her chakra cells, blocking its paths one by one.

He confirms that as he checks her with his Sharingan; her reserves are nearly empty, and he can distinctively see a few spots whirling inside of Sakura's chakra system. Sasuke tells her that, but the medic-nin is clearly struggling to process the information.

His time with Orochimaru taught him a lot about poisons – and he's even immune to a few thanks to that – but this one doesn't match the ones he personally knows. If it's anything like the one Sakura herself found the cure for all those years ago here in Suna, there's nothing much he can do; his limited knowledge in medical ninjutsu warrants that.

With the night approaching, and the risk of sandstorms, Sasuke decides to find shelter and wait in a safe place where he can replenish enough chakra to take them back home – by summon or whichever option he can use first.

He only has time to secure her arm around his neck when Sakura slumps against him. Cautiously, he guides them through the endless dunes until he sees the entrance of a small cave they spotted earlier that day.

Her smaller body is tucked in his arms by the time they get inside, her skin cold to the touch. Sasuke shrugs off his travel cloak and lays Sakura on top of it. He works quickly after that, making a fire to keep them warm, and returning to her side.

Disoriented, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, Sakura mumbles words every now and then. She whines and pants, and Sasuke knows the poison is spreading. He reaches for her medical pouch and unclasps it from her belt. Inside there are herbs, and syringes, first aid items, and other things Sasuke has no clue how to use.

In the light the small fire provides, Sasuke notices the changes in her; the ashen color of her face, the perspiration coating her skin, and her usually rosy lips turning blue.

A strangled cry forces him to move again, and he curses under his breath as he continues rummaging her things. She's dying and the realization bothers him more than he cares to admit; Sasuke knows he's on borrowed time.

Stupid, foolish woman, the words echoes in his head as he unrolls their travel blankets over her shivering body.

Before she's covered, Sasuke checks her pulse, brows furrowing in deep concern when he finds only a faint hint of her heartbeat. It's thready at best, and he needs to do something.

Anything.

He hears his name, he thinks, her voice is strained and the word broken on her lips, but the "kun" gives it away. He knows she's calling him.

His hand moves on its own, touching her cheek first, then her forehead, checking her temperature. Her skin is clammy and feverish, and he shouldn't be surprised with the fast development of her symptoms, but he still is.

"I'm here," he rasps, hopeful that she'll open her bright green eyes for him.

Sakura hums, and curls to his side, seeking his warmth even though she's warm enough for the both of them. She's crying, he notices; tracks of fresh tears run from one cheek down her neck.

He goes back to the pile of things he gathered from their backpacks and finds a piece of clean fabric. He folds the cloth and damps it with some water. When the cool compress is placed on her temple, Sakura sighs in relief, but her pained expression doesn't ease his mind. Not one bit.

Sasuke kneels beside her, pressing the cloth against her burning skin. His fingers brush her pink locks away, and he huffs, almost amused, when she blindly follows his touch. The Uchiha knows it's no use, but he calls her anyway, firm and louder this time. She doesn't respond.

He can't help but glare at her, because how dare she? She should have known better; she's scolded so many people about the dangers of battle wounds and enemies' weapons, him included.

The intensity of his gaze loses its strength when he considers everything again. Sakura is the last person that deserves such a fate; a painful, restless death. A death without a goodbye. A death that's not really hers.

He wishes he could take her place, and a little voice in his mind tells him that's how it was supposed to be. The Uchiha frowns, but it only lasts for a short moment as realization hits him; he's almost certain that she earned that scratch in that one moment he hesitated. That one moment where she pushed him out of the way. It was supposed to be him laying on this cold floor, withering away little by little. Not her.

"Idiot," he mutters, "why did you do that?"

"Sasu—"

Sakura's breathing becomes rattled, pain twisting her features, and for a brief moment he feels hope. If she can feel pain, it means she can still fight, right?

He abandons the cold compress on her forehead to move the covers aside. In the haste of getting her warm, he completely forgot about her wound. In a deliberate way, Sasuke removes her red dress, exposing the infected area. Blisters form close to the scratch, the flesh angry and swollen around the wound.

Sasuke snatches the first aid kit he found earlier in her pouch and prepares the ointment to clean the cut. He applies a little pressure as he works, covering the entire area with herbs once it looks sanitary enough. Sakura thrashes during the entire process, and the only way to avoid more damage and ensure that he can finish his work without hurting her more, is to straddle her small body, pinning her legs underneath him.

With his Sharingan, he keeps track of her progress, careful to not waste too much chakra. Now that he's taking a better look at it, he notices a concentration of the dark substance still close to the opened gash.

He doesn't even stop to think it through. Sasuke grabs a kunai and deepens the cut, pressing just right to push the poison out. She screams in response, shouting profanities, and jerking wildly in pain the entire time. But he can't stop now, even if the last thing he wants is to see her suffering, he can't stop; it's for her own good.

He snatches her wrists with one hand and presses her stomach with the other, his tomoes spinning and watching attentively as he removes as much of the malicious substance as he can. The dark, putrid liquid starts to ooze out of the wound, and Sasuke uses his knee to pin her to her side in an angle that helps the extraction process.

The moment that the last drop is removed, Sakura's chakra flares and she goes limp under him. He watches, Sharingan still taking in every detail, as her body starts to slowly give out and her nearly lifeless weight sinks to the ground.

No, no, no. She's supposed to get better...

When his gaze settles on her face, Sasuke notices how her breathing is shallow, a stark difference from a minute ago. Her features are slowly relaxing as if the pain is dissipating with each breath she takes.

Is this how it ends?

He's surprised when the thought crosses his mind. Sasuke's not one that contemplates the future; he's always thought he'd die young, after killing his brother. He's never expected to turn twenty. And he has never thought about rekindling the bonds he broke all those years ago when he left.

But here he is, a reinstated and pardoned Konoha shinobi, a war hero, a teammate, a friend, a brother. All things he wasn't two years ago. And now, before he even had the chance to really stop and think about his future, he can't.

This is not how we're supposed to end, he thinks, a hand running through his dark locks as he looks down at her with a myriad of emotions he's never associated with his name when looking at Sakura; pain, regret, remorse, sorrow, and pure, unadulterated sadness.

He releases her tiny wrists, sagging against her, defeated. The tiny hope he had gained leaves him as he continues to sink in his own storm, feeling as if he's being submerged under water, deprived of his air.

That obscure corner of his mind, the one that's full of self-loathing and doubt, whispers, "but did you even begin?''

On a whim, or maybe it's the bubbling rage inside of him, Sasuke growls like a wounded animal, releasing a burst of his chakra around them. His chest heaves and his shoulders shake, but he still feels numb. Empty.

He hears a whimper, even though his ears ring with the echo of his own anger. A choked gasp escapes him when he looks down.

It seems that the pulse of chakra he released has been absorbed by Sakura's body – somehow. His sharp eyes can clearly see her jugular pulsing, her eyes moving frantically underneath her lids, lashes fluttering against her lightly rosy cheeks.

There's… there is still a fighting chance.

As fast as he can, Sasuke scans his surroundings, noting every single resource available to him. He eliminates anything he can't use and lists possible steps; everything happens in a span of thirty seconds.

He considers summoning Garuda to take them home, but the amount of chakra is not enough. He considers Aoda – but that would require even more chakra – or any other smaller snake that could assist. But the solution, the best-case scenario, comes from a stupid idea that only Naruto could come up with. And maybe it's worth the shot, because all Naruto's ideas work in some way.

As blood runs from Sakura's wound towards the floor, a red path painting her fair skin, Sasuke transfers most of his chakra to her, calculating exactly how much he'll need to succeed. Then, he grabs her hands with his, swipes her thumb over her own blood, and guides her through the signs of Kuchiyose no Jutsu.

He pushes the last of his chakra to her hands, forcing the jutsu to drain the previously infused amount when he says the words. The smoke takes him by surprise (deep down he didn't have much faith in this plan), and when he sees a slime creature not bigger than his hand, he sighs in relief.

The tiny slug is very polite and right to the point. It pleases him greatly when she quickly understands the situation and gets to work. Katsuyu guides him, asking him to confirm where the rest of the venom is located, and with his bloodline once more he scans Sakura's body, pointing out the chakra path that is blocked and tainted by the poison.

The summon tells him he did a great job considering the limited resources and chakra available to him. Although she's being very helpful and sharing more than necessary, narrating her every move and findings, the slug's little voice trembles when she says that if the substance had reached Sakura's heart, things would have been different.

And suddenly, the severity of this predicament downs on him (again), because he has seen with his own eyes how the dark swirl is stuck a few inches short of that destination. His own heart constricts painfully, galloping against his ribcage as a life without pink flashes in the front of his mind.

"Sasuke-san?" Katsuyu calls, "ready?"

The question breaks him out of his stupor, and he nods quickly, pushing aside the plummeting feeling in order to get to more important matters. Sakura.

Together, they isolate the venom and the slug coerces it out of Sakura's main chakra path, pushing it towards the opened wound. It doesn't take long, and as the last drops leave Sakura's body, he notices how the color starts to return to her pale face.

"It's done," the slug says as she slides away from Sakura, taking the poison with her. "Sakura-sama is still weak and will need to break through the fever on her own."

"What do you mean?"

"My time here is ending, and you both need your rest. Her body will need to recover on its own until her chakra reserves are full again."

"I see. Thank you"

"No, thank you, Uchiha-san. Please take care of her!"

"Aa."

The summon disappears not long after, and Sasuke knows he'll be eternally grateful for its help.

For the first time in two hours, he allows himself to relax. Sasuke slouches backwards, leaning on the cave wall, head tipped up. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs completely, and it's so invigorating that makes him think how a simple action that he does everyday – all the time – can feel so different, so good.

He reaches for the medical supplies and gets back to work. With a clinical eye, he carefully sterilizes her wound, cleans her skin, and then bandages it. He checks her temperature, tilts her head to give her some water, and repeats the routine like clockwork.

The silence, which usually is a comfort to the last Uchiha, is now a nuisance. It makes his mind overwork, inflicting painful thoughts, and aggravating his already guilty consciousness. The wind whispers angrily outside, though he hears it loud and clear.

She almost died.

In his place.

She's suffering.

Because of him.

Again.

A small whimper escapes her, and Sasuke thinks with mild exasperation, that's becoming one of his new favorite sounds. Maybe it comes second, losing only to her sickeningly sweet laughter.

She whispers and mumbles and Sasuke knows it's the remnants of the poison talking. And, between nonsense filled dreams, curses and random fits of rage, Sakura cries – a lot. It's not really a surprise when he stops to think about it, but it's not a pleasant sight, even though he knows it means she's getting better, naturally recovering.

She cries about the Dobe not realizing the Hyuuga girl is madly in love with him since Kami knows when, and how it pains her to see him being a fool every day, completely oblivious.

She cries about Tsunade going on a vacation and not inviting her.

She cries about her parents. Her mother's incessant inquiries about weddings and grand-babies, and her daddy's poor sense of humor that she secretly loves.

She cries about Ino. How the blonde keeps forgetting to return her things, and insists on pushing Sakura to date, because… she shouldn't wait forever.

He doesn't really know how to react to the last one. Sasuke is in a phase where emotions and feelings are still confusing, and there's also this new part of him that constantly fights between what's right versus what he wants. And as much as he wants her, he knows he's not right for her. It wouldn't be the right decision.

As the hallucinations go back and forth, there are more broken words than complete thoughts, but at a certain moment he knows he's there with her. The next words are proof enough and nobody can say otherwise.

"Please don't— don't go Sasu—hn."

Her voice is broken and exhausted, loaded with so much pain that he can almost touch it.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here." He says resolutely, because he's done running away.

Sasuke takes her hand on his, comforting her like she did once. He's not sure Sakura can hear him, and he squeezes her hand – a little harder than necessary – waiting for her to squeeze back.

She doesn't.

He watches as she struggles through painful memories, and as the masochist he is, Sasuke relives them along with her. Some words are welcome, and even missed, but others are venom and sting more than expected. He doesn't miss the irony of all, wondering if fate is messing with him – if such a thing exists, that is.

The torture session, as he calls it, lasts no longer than a few hours. Sakura's fever breaks sometime between her memories of the war and the events after. Her natural color is returning fully and even the tip of her nose is pink.

As her senses start to work again, Sakura tries to raise herself into a sitting position, and she huffs, frustrated, when she can't. Sasuke soothes her confusion by drawing little circles on her back.

"Why?" He asks, his voice lower than a whisper.

Although Sasuke's tried to contain his anger, frustration – or whatever this is – he can feel it coming off in waves as he finally sees her eyes again; as glassy and green as they were that morning. There was a moment, not long ago, he thought he wouldn't see them again.

When she doesn't reply, he tells her how careless she was. How they were supposed to work together as a team and not jump to save each other's lives like when they were kids. He scolds her like she's a petulant child that disobeyed her parent's orders and because of that she'd hurt herself.

Sakura doesn't say a word or look at him. She moves away with great effort, leaning on the wall of the cave beside him. When she's settled, she looks up at him. And this time, her eyes are blazing with anger.

She tilts her chin up in defiance and says, tone flat, "because I'm a medic."

They both scowl, hearing the statement as the lie it is; it's not only because of that.

"You are an idiot, that's what you are."

His words, his voice grows heated and Sasuke is not sure if they are directed to her or himself. And as expected, Sakura gives back as much as she gets, matching his tone and glare.

"Oh, excuse me for trying to save my teammate's life," she tells him like what she did was a normal occurrence. "I didn't know it was an idiotic idea."

"Tch. You shouldn't have done that, Sakura." He reproaches, nearly losing his strength when he continues, "I could—" have lost you.

"You don't tell me what to do, Uchiha."

"Tell me why you did that," he probes, despite the way she crosses her arms and throws him a menace look.

"I don't know!" Sakura yells, "my body just moved, okay?!"

A deafening silence follows then. The tension crackles explosively as they lock their eyes in a familiar stare-down. The weight and meaning of her statement are not lost on him.

He thinks of his day, how it was supposed to be just an easy return home. He thinks of how scared he was from the moment she fell until she opened her eyes again. He thinks of how infuriating this woman is. How she drives him crazy, pushing him to situations where he cannot do a thing.

Her chest heavens, but Sasuke knows it has nothing to do with the poison, not anymore. When he moves closer, lips parting to answer her, it's not like either of them expected.

He crushes his lips to hers, moving them effortlessly, showing her the severity of her actions and what they— she means to him.

It's messy, and desperate, and belated, but still full of emotions and meaning. Their first kiss tells her he won't risk losing her again. Maybe it's not right, but he knows it is what they both want.

And this is how they finally begin.

[overly-ironed-waffle]

also like??? idk sorry, i know i just posted two essays but im irritated

okay so quick brief backstory: a few years ago when we were living with my family while i recovered from birthing my second gremlin, my husband and my sister worked at one of the stores. they made friends with someone who was super cool and we all loved and got along with.

this person was super young, freshly an adult, and in a super abusive family situation. so my family immediately went *swoop* and brought them in to live with us. my husband and I were making plans to move again soon, as I was finally feeling better and we wanted our own place and wanted to live among the trees again. so we suggested friend come with us. friend had just recently entered a new relationship, with someone who also was in a super shitty abusive family situation. problem is, their new beau was juuuuuuust shy of being an adult. still a minor. so we did a bunch of research on california run-away laws, and basically came up with a plan to help him run away and escape and move with us in a totally sketchy but fully legal fashion.

and it worked! they both moved with us, and i quickly helped him enroll in school (which btw, he had never ever been??? their family literally never sent him to school. they “homeschooled” him but he was essentially illiterate, but taught himself how to read using M:TG. he was HIGHLY intelligent, just didn’t have school smarts yet.)

things were going pretty well, we had already lived with our friend for almost a year prior to this and the research on how to help their beau escape their situation took long enough (as did finding a house) that we were pretty used to having him over as well, so it wasn’t a difficult adjustment really to living with them fully.

the problems started after we found out that friend was pregnant. i mean, aside from ages and all that, things were fine. it was obviously of course tense and stressful, but we did what we could to help. things were fine outside of that, until they started keeping to themselves more, hiding away from us, and then conspiring to leave without even talking to us. they literally gave us 3 days notice before they were going to move back down to their families, and ONLY because my husband called them out on it cause he heard them packing boxes.

we expressed our concerns, and discussed the things we had gone through to help them (so of course I felt kind of hurt because I put so much on the line, literally put my family in danger to help) but wasn’t even so much hurt that they were leaving, as it was that they felt it necessary to hide it from us and not openly communicate with us. that was something we always expressed was important to us, just talk to us and be open. and then also the fact that, our friend had signed a lease with us but then wasn’t even planning to give notice and only gave 3 days notice when they had been confronted about it. (this was april of last year btw)

honestly a lot happened between all that, but it’s mostly insignificant and not my own to tell (has to do with friend’s family) and so I won’t actually get into it. so it’s not even that I don’t know or understand why they were going back. I do, and I fully respected that. I just felt hurt that they didn’t talk to me about it, and had no intentions to.

so anyways, that weekend was tense and nobody really spoke much to each other, until i found out that friend had told their mom that we were apparently abusive and live in a pig stye, which wasnt true. but our house had been a little messy because i had been sick and we have kids. but friend’s parents were gonna be here by the evening to help them pack up and move back down, so i took the day off work and rushed to clean the house. when they were leaving, friend and i stepped aside for a minute to discuss things again cause they were handing over a piece of paper to help take them off the lease, and i explained “this is one of the reasons why I wish you had talked to us before hand so we were prepared with barely more than 3 days notice. we can’t live here with only the 4 of us once you guys are gone. we need a minimum of 5 people in this house, and so you up and leaving with no notice kind of fucks us over on that front.” (we live in low-income, and so for a 4bd our property management requires a minimum of 5 people to be living here.) and that was when they kind of looked horrified because they didn’t realize that, and said “well then i guess you can keep me on the lease for now, i wouldn’t want your kids to end up on the street. doesn’t matter how much i might ever hate you guys-- which i dont!!! (((super quick save))) but even if i did, i could never do that to children.” 

like, the “doesn’t matter how much i might ever hate you guys” with the quick save of “which i dont!!!” just didn’t (and still doesnt) sit right with me but we hugged everything out and i asked them to keep in touch and let me know when they got back down there safe and sound.

aaaaaaand then they promptly chose never to talk to me again. i mean, this year they reached out a little? but it was so fake and forced, and it was wildly uncomfortable honestly. which makes me really sad. i really do miss them and their friendship and wish them well, i just wish they had communicated with me.

but what upsets me is how they still talk to all of my friends up here that i introduced them to, and act so close with them and like they’re so best buds and keep in touch with all of my friends. but they never had the time to keep in touch with me? like i don’t care who my friends are friends with. im not gonna go policing that lol but it does make me feel weird and uncomfortable and jealous i guess? when i see them interact so close with these people they barely know, and only know because when they moved here with us I introduced them to all of my best friends.

idk. it really grinds my gears man and idk why. i really dont. i have no right or reason to feel this way and i totally recognize and acknowledge that. but it definitely makes me feel more distant from my friends, esp cause they know everything that happened and went down and everything they did that wasnt chill. 

and so idk, i was just feeling it again tonight cause i saw that they posted in a mutual group of ours talking about some issues they’re going through (and i hope they feel better soon and get better and overcome it all) and all my friends jumped in to make them feel better, which is great! i am lucky to have such amazing friends who would do that. but idk, it just hurts for some reason. its dumb. if i were to interact with them, or try, it would either get dismissed or really formally/shallowly responded to and then never interacted with again.

gaahhhhhh idk. i’m being dumb. brain is dumb. rsd is dumb. the fact that im still not over this is dumb.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

Hi. I need ur help. Is Dean mad at Cas, at God for making Cas "responsible for a failed mission that ended with a sad brother/kind of kid to Dean, bc he questions reality and his love for Cas ... or rather both? I'm a little bit confused after having read so much meta all at once.

Hi! I think you are confused because... it’s everything at once! I think Dean is feeling many things right now, and not all of those things have a good outlet or way to be dealt with, so they are directed somewhere else and become messy.

Dean is, at any given moment of his life since he was a child, angry at himself. That’s the inevitable result of a father that made him feel inadequate, by dropping responsibilities on his little shoulders that were too big for him and inevitably he couldn’t live up to. He has made important steps to deal with those issues--that’s the point of the scene with him saying that it wasn’t fair that he had to be mother and father to Sam--but a lifetime of being made feel inadequate don’t disappear with a snap of your fingers. Especially because it wasn’t just his father dropping huge responsibility after huge responsibility on him (remember when he literally dropped the responsibility of possibly having to kill Sam, the kid he raised as his own child, and then died?) but it was a much bigger game. God dropped the responsibility of the entire world on him over and over. Apocalypse after apocalypse, Lucifer, Eve, Leviathan, Michael, soulless Jack, but also the regular monsters, a never-ending string of situations where the responsibility for the lives of many other people, strangers and loved ones both (in fact sometimes it’s a Sophie’s choice!).

It’s not surprising that he developed feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing so big you can see them from space. The poor guy feels that he’s not good enough for anything, especially not good enough to be loved, not good enough for someone to stay with him. He feels that everyone will inevitably abandon him because why would they stick around? He’s trash. Even worse, he’s poison, he ruins everything he touches, everyone he gets close to.

The intensity of these feelings vary depending on how hard the circumstances are on his mental state, sometimes it’s better sometimes it’s worse. I think some fans expect him to “get better” in a linear fashion, but mental health does not work as a straight line; there are ups and downs, and when sometimes renews your trauma, you just fall back in the mechanisms of your trauma. It’s unreasonable to say things like “he should have learnt by now”--that’s not how trauma works. You get better when you are not actively exposed to trauma. Renewed trauma means going back.

So we have identified the first thing Dean is angry at, himself. Of course, hating yourself is very vexing on your mental health, and it is in fact healthier to transfer the anger and disappointment from yourself to someone else, as it prevent you from being crushed under the weight of self-loathing and guilt.

Then there’s the figures in position of power that have dropped the various responsibilities on Dean’s shoulders. First, John and Mary. Mary is a particular case because of course Dean never actually blamed her for dying, and even when he learnt about her deal with Azazel he knew that she was just a pawn in a cosmic-level game, and of course it’s not like she decided to make the deal and die for fun. But when Mary returned and her behavior shattered Dean’s life-long image of her, feeding his feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing because it felt like he wasn’t even worth for his own mother to stay with him, that fused together with an irrational sense of abandonment that came with the loss and forever left a mark in his little four-year-old brain.

I think the scene where Dean confronted Mary at the end of the season was about this: a need to outsource the blame and self-hatred, and Mary was the figure that catalyzed so many emotions since his early childhood, love and loss and joy that was robbed away from him and such profound pain that came with her disappearance from his life, to the point that when she returned and shattered his image of her, he found himself with so many extreme emotions about her.

And now John. Alright, I’m digressing big time so I’ll keep John short, everyone and their grandmother have written essays on Dean’s relationship with John and it’s not particularly relevant here, save for the fact that John is dead and Dean has never really had the chance to confront him. Even when he temporarily came back thanks to the magic pearl, circumstances were... suspiciously too apt for Dean to approach the father figure in a positive way (I’m convinced that it was all a very precise machination by Chuck to make Dean well-disposed towards him, basically). Dean was in a high, and he was in a mental state where he did not need to make that emotional outsourcing on John. Mary and John met again, then trouble happened, that they had to say goodbye and it was highly emotional and obviously left no space for emotional outsourcing. Result, Dean has no way to really bounce all that negative stuff back on John. John was just a ghost from the past, really, and ghosts from the past don’t really serve any substantial purpose.

And now to the juicy part--Chuck. Dean started out his journey believing that God didn’t exist. His reasoning was a classic argument of atheism: a lot of terrible evil exists, and if God exists he either isn’t omnipotent (then what kind of God is he??) or doesn’t care, or he’s malevolent, and those options don’t go well with the idea of God Dean would have been exposed to as a person growing in a primarily Christian environment like the US.

Then he learns that God exists, but he doesn’t care. He’s left, and now everyone else--angels, humans, demons--is supposedly left dealing with a godless world. That doesn’t really come as a shock to Dean; for Cas it’s shocking, because he believed that God cared. For Dean, the jump is just from a non-existing God to an absent God, and that doesn’t change much for him. Furthermore, he’s not exactly foreign to the concept of shitty father figures who dump you on your own in a shitty world.

The shock comes now. For Cas, ironically, there’s no shock now, because he experienced that shock of being angry and disappointed towards God years ago. Now he makes the jump from a shitty disappointing God to... a shitty disappointing God, just in a different way.

Dean goes from a God that isn’t around, that leaves you alone dealing with the shittiness of the world... to a God that has been there all along, manipulating everything. Dean could deal with a God that is what Chuck pretended to be when he reappeared in season 11, when Chuck gave him the speech about leaving his creatures find their own way, parenting-versus-enabling; that was a painful perspective but it made sense, and Dean could accept it. But when Chuck revealed himself to be the mastermind behind everything, an actual capricious author who uses them as pawns for his entertainment... that’s a blow. A very, very big blow.

Chuck had played a very specific game on Dean. He presented himself as a father who did the right thing for his “baby”, albeit the difficult one. He explained that he realized that a hands-off parenting was healthier for his creatures, that being present in their lives wasn’t parenting but enabling... He sold Dean a picture where being an absent father does the child good. (And later had Dean briefly meet John again to feed him a romanticized impression of his figure and his relationship with his family... talk about yikes!)

Dean had fought tooth-and-nail to affirm his free will against the machinations of angels, he strongly believed in that against the idea of destiny. And Chuck presented himself as the good guy, who gave them their free will, while his bad, bad sister Amara wanted to take that away from them. And now the truth comes out. Chuck was never the hands-off parent that distanced himself for the good of his creatures. He was an author (authors lie...) who just played with them for his selfish reasons.

Dean’s own sense of what reality is has shattered. That is generally not good on a person’s mental health. So, yeah, Dean is not in a good mental place.

So Dean now is angry at God. Rightly so. But God, by definition, is not there to confront. (Dean thought he had confronted him once and God just fed him manipulative lies, so it’s not like he hopes to have a nice honest chat with him). Furthermore, Dean, Sam and Cas currently believe that Chuck has actually left the building this time. They think that Chuck’s “welcome to the end” meant that he just slapped an ending on this iteration of the story and fucked off to write another one, create another universe. They are convinced that they are actually living in a post-Chuck world, like the apocalyptic wasteland universe.

I also think that Dean hasn’t realized that Chuck’s ending isn’t really the ghostpocalypse, but also, and especially, ruining their relationships, and their mental health basically. The ghostpocalypse is just the smokescreen (c’mon, like the Winchesters would perish against a bunch of ghosts and demons from hell, been there done that) and the true ending he’s orchestrated out of pettiness and spite is breaking them, breaking their relationships. Sam loses Rowena; Jack’s death and all that jazz definitively drives Cas and Dean apart.

But let’s go back to Dean’s anger and shock and frustration. He could drive it all towards himself, and just get crushed under the weight of it all; he can’t drive it all at God, because he bailed; so he directs it towards the one person closest to him that he truly feels like an equal.

Dean has been directing anger towards Cas since Mary’s death, in my opinion, because Cas is the safest outlet for the horrifying vortex of guilt, self-loathing and abysmal self-worth that something as traumatic as losing Mary (again--remember what I said about renewed trauma not being something you learn to deal with but something that reopens wounds and possibly makes them worse?) and seeing Jack no longer himself, essentially losing him to an even more terrifying destiny than mere death, must have caused.

It’s like Dean trusts Cas so much that he subconsciously feels safe using him as an emotional outlet/scapegoat... and now that safety gets shattered again because Cas rightly puts some distance between them (as I believe it’s a healthy choice given the situation, although not dictated by the right motivations in Cas--I guess it’s something like using the wrong formula but getting the right result, because right now staying together is not healthy... like, the healthiest thing would be getting a fuckton of therapy, but that’s not in the cards I guess) but Dean’s traumatized psyche will register it as a confirmation of that lifetime-long conviction that he’s not worth to be loved, that he’s not worth for anyone to stay.

Cas’ biggest fear is that Dean won’t ask him to stay with him, Dean’s biggest fear is that Cas will leave him--ta-da, their worst fears just became true! Of course, Dean doesn’t insist Cas stays not because he doesn’t care but basically because he cares too much, and Cas leaves because he thinks Dean doesn’t care...

But let’s get back on track. Is Dean angry at Cas? Yes. Is Dean really angry at Cas? Eh. What is this anger really? It’s a defense mechanism. It’s pretty much the alternative to just shatter. It’s a survival mechanism, shattering would be really bad for his survival perspectives. So he uses a trusted, close figure as a scapegoat for what is a huge mess of emotions. (Not Sam, he goes into parental mode with Sam, it’s known, it’s safe, it works.)

Rowena’s death just adds more meat to the fire, because she meant something to Dean himself and also because Sam is truly heartbroken about it. I don’t think that Dean doesn’t understand the circumstances of Cas’ choices, but rationality here has very little grip. It’s been just a few days since Mary’s death, and not really much longer since Michael escaped and Jack sacrificed his soul, and let’s not forget that Dean has basically been in a state of severe ongoing trauma ever since Michael possessed him, tricked him into believing he was free (Chuck mirror alert!) and violated his mind repeatedly, completely manipulated his perceptions, and then pretty much destroyed his family.

Dean’s mind has been tortured by Michael and immediately next, with zero time to breathe, tortured again by Chuck’s manipulations and revelation that shattered Dean’s sense of reality--a sense of reality that had already been shaken because of Michael’s tricks, and now he just finds out that the reality he anchored himself to... is also a manipulation. There’s no reality he can anchor himself to, or at least that is how he feels right now. His psyche has suffered some heavy blows, and no speech from Cas about them being “real” can currently heal the damage. For Dean, this isn’t a matter of what Chuck has done or not; it’s just an aggravation of a state of attack his mind was already in.

This post has gotten a bit long XD I hope it could help you get a better idea of Dean’s mental state (granted that this is merely the way I see what the show is doing, no one is forced to agree with me!) and feel free to ask for any further clarification or argument!

[alia15]

Turning Over a New Leaf

My house is cleaner.

I’m more relaxed.

More productive.

More active.

Dare I say...happier?

Happy? In this climate?? How does one go about finding this happiness I speak of? 

Well, for me, it was simple. Set an alarm.

I know, I know: what a concept. But something happened to me about a month ago and I realized that I had a lot of problems, stressors and time management issues in my life....

And I was to blame.

The thing is, I didn’t know I was to blame. I blamed my Microsoft Outlook Calendar which is jam-packed every single weekday with meetings and calls. I blamed the steady stream of emails that flowed into my inbox every minute. I blamed chiropractor visits twice a week that I had to work into my busy schedule. I blamed weekend plans and obligations and errands and everyone...but myself. Because while all the things I listed are very real, there was one person getting in the way of finding free time and well, “me” time, and that person was me.

So, I decided to make some changes. I don’t know about you, but when I make changes, I really MAKE them. They have to be well thought-out and documented. I started thinking about all the factors that were causing me grief and stress over the last few months, and tried to address them:

That’s some set of rules.

I put my money where my mouth is and instead of just making a list of goals on my iPhone’s Notes app, I actually...did the things. I set my alarm for 7am every day. I don’t have to start working until about 9ish, so that was going to give me some extra time to do... WHATEVER. Anything. Even if it was spacing out and having coffee while watching Saved by the Bell reruns, it was better than what I *had* been doing, which is laying in bed until about 9:00 (er, 9:15 some days) and then scrambling like a mad woman to start my day. Frantic. Aggravated. Rushing.

And, for what? I work from home now, and likely will be for a while. Why was I torturing myself? How many days could I get out of bed late and then turn on my computer only to realize I had a meeting in 15 minutes? How many days could I spend sitting at my desk working, and ONLY working all day, realizing when I signed off later that I never really moved much, never went outside, never took a real break?

It was unhealthy, and it made me unhappy.

I also started to wonder why I was getting out of bed so late, ESPECIALLY since my body clock typically wakes me up around 7:30 or 8:00am. If I was up, why didn’t I...ya know, get up? Physically? 

I knew why.

The damn phone. We all do it. We wake up, and before anything else we grab that little device that connects us to the world with the touch of a button. What news alerts do I have; what happened overnight since I went to bed? What’s going on in Twitter World? What’s trending? Let me check Facebook and see whose birthday it is! Let’s scroll through Instagram and Tik Tok and Snapchat AND OH MY GOD IT’S 9:20???? How the hell did an HOUR AND A HALF go by??

Nope. No more. I made a ‘rule’ that I’d set an alarm, and even if I needed a few minutes (or hell, 30 minutes) to lay in bed before getting up, the one thing I could NOT do is scroll through my phone. And guess what? It helps. IT HELPS A LOT. Let me tell you all the things I did this morning: Wednesday, October 14:

dusted & cleaned some windows

rode the stationary bike for 30 minutes 

threw in a load of laundry

had breakfast (hard boiled eggs & some turkey bacon) and coffee 

caught up on the morning news

got ready for the day: makeup, outfit, hair

started this blog post

And I did this all before 9am. 

The catalyst for making these changes happened one weekend in September when my parents were here helping me out with some outdoor cleanup and gardening. They were so helpful in undoing some of the damage Leo and I had done over the summer: we had overgrown plants, weeds, a messy/sandy deck, and we needed some serious ASSISTANCE. And while I appreciated the help, I also felt guilty. Why hadn’t I taken care of this myself? Why did I keep hearing the same phrase come out of my mouth multiple times that day while my parents were over?

“I don’t have the time.”

That was my response when I was asked why I don’t go to Home Depot to get some new outdoor fall stuff. That was my response when asked about watering plants or plucking weeds out of the ground. I DON’T HAVE THE TIME, OKAY?! I AM A VERY BUSY WOMAN!!! 

And, I am. We’re all busy to some extent. And sometimes, it IS hard to find the time for things: house things, chores things, exercise things. But you CAN make the time. You can better USE your time. Since I’ve been getting up earlier each weekday, I’ve used those hours in the mornings for productivity quite often. On weekends, we’ve taken the free time we DO have (before or after plans we might have) to do the things we don’t get to during the week. Just this past weekend, before going to my sister-in-laws house to celebrate our birthdays, Leo and I went to a local preserve in our town to get a walk in. On a recent Sunday when Leo was watching the Jets, I did a LONG OVERDUE closet organization. For me, personally, spending my limited and precious free time on my phone or watching TV makes me feel shitty. Sometimes it’s okay, but I’m generally a happier person when I feel like I’ve gotten things done. 

Oh yeah, and I’m happier the more I MOVE. This isn’t about weight loss or some unhealthy diet culture; this is about overall physical and mental health. Look at how little I moved in August and September. I felt it.

Let’s be real: this year has been TOUGH. We’ve had to make so many adjustments to all the curveballs tossed our way, and we’ve had to navigate the countless changes. But, despite how long we’ve been doing this whole corona dance, it’s never too late to pivot and turn things around. Since March, I’ve been trying to find ways to better myself and find ways to improve my daily life all while working around a challenging work-from-home sitch, a bad back, and a bunch of other obstacles. 

This isn’t a one-size-fits-all approach, and I know everyone is different, but if you’re anything like me and think you can benefit from some inspo, great. I wrote this post in hopes that I’d potentially motivate someone to make a change that could help make them happier. The few times I’ve shared this with people -- in person or on social media -- I usually get a response along the lines of “I need to start doing this.” Or, similarly, a coworker/friend recently DID take my advice, and wrote me to tell me:

...am I a self-help guru???

Bottom line, take care of yourself. I know it’s hard, and sometimes it takes some effort. But it’s important: especially in a year like this one.

Stay safe & healthy!

-Ali

[slxyangel]

You Knew (Nikki Sixx x Reader)

Summary: You feel the urge to save Nikki from one of his biggest demons. Or at least help him carry the weight.

Wordcount: 2.2 k.

Warnings: Angst, alcohol, nightmares, swearing (as always).

A/N: The Dirt setting. // @ohhludo deserves the entire world, but I'm only a fic writer so I provide the best I can, which is a personalized tag. Thanks for the support bby ♡

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

Masterlist: https://slxyangel.tumblr.com/post/189625800403/masterlist

You woke up to the sound of a closing door. Your mouth was dry, your stomach queasy and your mind numb thanks to the slumber and the hungover. Tour nights were horrible, but mornings were even worse. Well, better said, afternoons, because it was probably after five p.m. by now. With your eyes still closed you turned around in the hotel bed to place your right arm on Nikki's lap, but on his side of the mattress, instead of him, all you found was a bunch of wrinkled, still warm sheets.

You opened your eyes to confirm that, as you thought, your boyfriend was nowhere to be found. Sure, that must have been the closing door. With a resigned sigh you hug his pillow and inhaled his scent. If it didn't fully wake you up you would at least have something nice to cling to in your hangover-zombie phase.

You had spent almost two weeks tagging along he band on the american leg of their Theatre of Pain tour, right before Christmas break. You had showed up as a surprise the day after Nikki's 27th birthday and you guys were now in Florida for the last show of the year. After ten days of sheer whipping; concerts, flights, parties, drugs and general excess the guys were fresh as a daisy, but you felt destroyed. Anyway, you were aware that was the price to pay if you wanted to savor the last period with your boyfriend before he flew to Europe for almost two months.

With the sluggishness of a corpse, because that's basically what you were, you got up from the bed and went straight to the bathroom to wash your face. You were surprised that after a show night Nikki had woken up on his own, without Doc having to come and drag him out of the bedroom, but if he had done it, it was most likely to go to the buffet. You would never understand how, after downing gallons of alcohol, he was always that hungry.

Planning to join him in his breakfast session, you put on the first of his t-shirts you found and a pair of jeans you wore the day before. There was no point in searching for clean clothes; it was the last day of tour, so there probably weren't any. And if there were, you wouldn't find them in the middle of that mess. You went out to the corridor and walked towards the elevator, but right before stepping in you heard someone screaming in the hall downstairs, followed by the sound of broken glass.

Your blood froze in your veins.

The lift took its sweet time going down while the yelling became louder, and you were frantic. You would recognize that voice anywhere. As soon as you got off the elevator, which led straight to the hall, you came across a 50 year old skinny woman with copper hair and strangely familiar green eyes. She looked at you with a scared expression for less than a second. A few meters to your left, right next to the hotel's main door, Nikki's voice sounded crystal clear.

- … WHO WOULDN'T BE STANDING THERE RIGHT NOW UNLESS YOU WERE GETTING SOMETHING OUT OF IT, SO JUST FUCK OFF, DOC. YOU'RE FUCKING FIRED.

You broke the eye contact with that woman and stormed past her, running across the hall, chasing after Nikki who had just gone out, full on ballistic mode. Doc was standing there, looking half confused, half hurt. Without stopping in your tracks, you gave him a look that said “What the fuck is going on?”, but you already knew. You were achingly sure.

Once you were out in the street, you ran covering the 20 meters that separated you from your boyfriend. You reached him and, without saying a word nor stopping your steps, you held his left hand. He was visibly tense. Actually, he was fuming, so you knew better than to talk to him. In contact with your hand, he automatically pulled away his.

- Go away - he said, visibly altered.

- Nope - you answered firmly.

- I’m serious, Y/N, go the fuck away - you could tell he was actively trying to bite his tongue.

- I said no. I’m not leaving you alone, Nikki. I'm not going to touch you, I'm not going to talk to you, you're not even going to realize I am here, but I’m not leaving you alone. So keep walking.

And he did. He didn’t slow down, but he didn’t insist either. You were both pretty stubborn, and in your relationship he won some battles and you won some others. This was going to be one of the latter. He was really quiet, eyes fixed ahead, between a certain spot and no spot at all, clenched jaw and heavy breathing. You managed to keep up the pace, without touching him, without looking at him, without comforting him, as much as your guts were aching for it, because the last thing you wanted was to pull him further away. You restricted yourself to stayimg beside him for a long while, as you both walked aimlessly through the unknown streets of Florida.

You had been dating Nikki for nearly two years, you had been through ups and downs, through thick and thin, and you were the person he felt most comfortable with since long ago, he made sure to repeat that to you ad nauseam. He had told you practically everything about his life: you knew about his father, you knew about his grandparents, about his problems in school, about his endless move-ins, about why and under what circumstances he had arrived to Los Angeles, and you knew about his mother. You knew how much she had neglected him since he was a kid, how she prioritized random men who hit her son just because she felt lonely, you had seen with your own eyes the way that factor had conditioned his personality and how, more often than not, he woke up in the middle of the night sweating, screaming or crying thanks to it, and you were the one who always picked up the pieces. You had also seen the wall of disgust in his eyes everytime he talked about her, and you had learned to read behind it, only to come across a well of pain so deep that the only thought of it made you feel insanely sick.

So because of and apart from this, you knew about his issues with drugs. You had lived painfully close to them. Cocaine or pills were one thing, because they could do ugly things, and you’d be lying if you said you had never tried them, especially keeping in mind who your partner was, who he was surrounded by and what they did for a living. But heroine was an entirely different level. For some time now that had become routine; day by day he did it more frequently, day by day his body generated more tolerance so day by day he increased the dose. To be fair, he always tried not to do it near you so he didn't forcefully involve you, so he saved you certain trouble, so he didn't hurt you. But at this point you weren’t sure if you preferred it like this or either you were scared that he would take those moments as his “freedom” and things flew out of control. You had already tried to talk about it more than once but, although at first he only avoided the topic, now he got defensive and angry about it, so that approach was no longer an option, especially not in that very moment. Right then and there, you needed to be extra sly if you wanted to avoid rebound effect, but you were also certain that, if he injected heroin in such a nervous breakdown, which was precisely what he intended to do, it would be a massive catastrophe. Because of this and because you knew that, with you around, he would in no way shoot up, you decided to play that ace to your advantage and stick to his ass like a limpet; you weren’t willing to lament anything else.

After a couple of minutes, when the tightness in his shoulders and in his jaw had visibly relaxed and his breathing was even, you tried again to hold his hand, gently, just so he knew that you got him, that you were there, and this time he didn’t pull away. You kept walking for a while, more slowly now.

- Was that your mother? - you broke the silence that reigned between you two.

Nikki seemed to grow more tense for a moment, but it was such a subtle detail that, if you hadn’t known him so well, you would have thought it was all your imagination. He answered after a pause.

- Yes.

And another silence. His tight lips were drawing a thin line and his green eyes never stopped looking to the front. But damn if you weren't looking at him. His features sparkled with the golden light of the sun which, at that time, was already hiding behind the buildings. The sight was breathtaking. That “Yes” had sounded blunt, dry and sharp as the blade of a knife. More than “Yes” he had said “You promised to be quiet and fucking unnoticeable, so shut your mouth if you don’t want to be cold-bloodly murdered right here”. In fact, more than that, he had said “For God’s sake don’t make me go back into that matter, because I don’t know if I’m going to be able to come out again”. You couldn’t stand seeing him this upset, this disturbed. This was his tour, his moment, his dream, this was his last Christmas with you before flying to Europe, these were supposed to be his golden days, but instead she had to appear and turn them grey. You were infuriated.

- You know - you started talking almost before realizing it - I just find it funny how, after I-don’t-know-how-many years, she must have turned on her TV, seen her son giving an interview and signing autographs, and her vicious little mind has decided it was acceptable to show up with a Christmas sweater and a hug, as if that would redeem her. She can’t do that, that is simply not okay. What was she thinking? That setting a trap with your manager and appearing without a warning, without even making sure you were okay with that, thanks to some magical elves she was going to reunite the family for dinner? She has no, and I mean it, NO right at all. She doesn’t get to make that decision, that’s solely and exclusively on you. If you want to see her, if you want to talk to her then great, perfect, absolutely amazing. Actually, I’ll be the one knotting your tie and cooking stuffed turkey for the feast even if I have to learn the recipe and might end up setting the kitchen on fire, I don’t care, I’d be thrilled. But there lies the difference, you have to be the one who decides it, not her. She can’t impose that on you. So you have every right to be pissed, and I came to be pissed next to you.

Suddenly and for the first time since you left the hotel, Nikki stopped, so your hands separated. When you turned around to see him he looked surprised. His head, slightly turned to the right, was showing a confused but somehow funny expression. He looked like he didn’t know how to say what he wanted to say.

- What? - you couldn’t hide the traces of anger still dripping off of you after your speech.

- Wow - he stated. - When you came after me in the hotel I already visualized that you were going to lecture me. I don’t know, I thought you were, as always, coming to play the pacifier, to intercede for the sake of her or for the sake of how long it has been or for the sake of it being Christmas. I didn’t expect… this reaction.

Now it was you who looked at him with a funny expression. Smiling, you covered the few steps that separated you from him, held his hand again and you resumed your walk together.

- Then you barely even know me. - he snorted, subtly shaking his head for himself.

- Says the one who just hinted I, Nikki fucking Sixx, would wear a tie.

You were glad you had managed to make him laugh, and the fact that he was in the mood for jokes gave you hope. Then, as if the universe wanted to do you a favor, you saw an IHOP around the corner, and a lightbulb appeared in your mind.

- As I said, I came here to be pissed next to you. But let me tell you something: one can be perfectly pissed while having pancakes for breakfast. Or dinner. I don’t know what time it is, with this whole thing the clock was the last of my worries. What do you think?

As a response his stomach dedicated its most audible roar to you, so that was it. Like you deduced, Nikki hadn’t eaten a single thing since the day started, so his habitual post-party ferocious appetite was the weak spot that most easily would redirect him back to a better mindset. And that was the sight; outwards, you were a young couple holding hands and going for some pancakes in a Christmas afternoon, pretty idyllic, like an advertisement. And inwards… well, inwards you were exactly the same but with a hangover, mommy issues and pissed together.

[veliseraptor]

2019 Fanfiction Round-Up

I’ve done one of these every year since 2016, so here we are again. At this point I’d feel weird if I didn’t do it, even if it takes a long ass time to do.

Total Year-Long Wordcount: Here as of 8:20 PM, 421,602 words - which includes some essays and original fiction but is, by and large, mostly fic. 

If you’re curious, that’s 35,133.5 average words per month, and 1,155 words per day. The month I wrote most was 48,006 words (January) and the least was 21,550 (October). I may go into more stats later to compare to my 2017/2018 spreadsheet, because that’s the kind of loser I am.

This year I wrote and posted: This isn’t exact, because it includes chapters of things I wrote as separate fics, but probably something around 60 fics. 

Overall Thoughts

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

Less, by a substantial margin. There are a lot of potential reasons for this (a new job that takes a lot more energy and time, me making a concerted effort to socialize more, taking on more difficult projects that require more time/work/effort, a two month horrendous depressive episode) but I’m trying to tell myself that it doesn’t matter why, and it’s totally fine that my total amount written doesn’t match recent years’. Over 400,000 words is still a lot of writing.

What’s your own favorite story of the year? 

This was a hard year, so I’m going to be self-indulgent and pick a few. I remain really, really proud of the fact that I wrote gather frankincense at all, and pretty proud of how it turned out also. good lord turned his back on me was one that I wrote basically all in one go, and I was really pleased with the Natasha POV and getting to write in her voice - I do that shockingly rarely, and haven’t in a while. I really liked both writing that fic and the arc of it - what it did as a story. 

Finally, continuing with the trend of “small fandom fic” which...I wrote a substantial amount of small-fandom fic this year, which pleases me - how this grace thing works. It was in the works for a long, long time and finally was finished this year - it’s the (for lack of a better word) softest Doctrine of Labyrinths fic I’ve written, and quite possibly ever will write. 

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

I wrote in two different fandoms that I hadn’t written in before or hadn’t written for years. Okay, in fairness I did some Doctrine of Labyrinths writing last year, but this year was really the bulk of the recent writing I’ve done for it. Writing for Lymond was a substantially bigger risk. Glad I did it, and I learned that I could do it, but...

I wrote a fic for someone else in second person, which was certainly a risk in a different way.

Overall...I learned that while I can write in first person still, I deeply prefer both third and second person overall. One of those isn’t surprising; the fact that I’ve come to actually really like second person sometimes is more so. 

From my past year of writing, what was….

My most popular story of this year: 

As usual, excluding my multichapter stuff because that skews results a lot - by hits it was how the dead walk; by kudos it was Seams and Scars, and by both comment threads and bookmarks it was Mirror, Mirror. All interesting! Seams and Scars is the most surprising to me, but also pleasing considering how goddamn long that fic took me to write (I’m so glad I finally finished it this year).

Most fun story to write: 

Five Hundred Ways to Discorporate a Demon. Aka the most light-hearted “repetitive character death” fic I’ve ever written. It was just...writing Good Omens fic this year in general was a lot of fun. It’s a departure from my usual voice, and my usual wheelhouse, but probably because of that was really enjoyable to explore. Though in a weird way good lord turned his back on me was also a lot of fun, in the sense of...it was one of those fics that was easy for me to write. It came out smooth and in a way that I liked basically right off the bat, which is rare and a great feeling when it happens.

Story with the single sexiest moment: 

This was kind of a challenging one, actually, because what I find sexy sort of fluctuates based on what I’m in the mood for at the time, but I might go with the sex scene in The Waxing Moon, partly because, as I discovered writing both that fic and An Ever Expanding Circle, I apparently find cocky Thor really sexy. I sort of resent this. (So does Loki.)

Most “Holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story: 

Yeah, I’m going to go with no good doing what I’m told, aka the one where I had a bunch of existential angst about “is this too much? am I going too far?” which...yeah, is always a sign of something considering how high my bar for myself has gotten.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: 

I have a hard time with this question every year. In some way, every story I write shifts my understanding of the characters, or at least deepens it. I guess maybe After the Fire - I dug into Curufin’s head more there than I have in a long time, and since I last did my understanding of him has changed generally. This fic developed more of that changing understanding.

Hardest story to write: 

The Compassion of the Wicked. Even more than gather frankincense, that fic fought me, to the mat, and almost won a number of times. Writing the sex in it was an adventure - I think I noted when I finished it that this is possibly the least explicit fic with explicit sex that I’ve written. Also possibly required the most research, and by “required” I mean “I chose this.” And writing Joleta was...it took me some doing to figure out how to write her, which surprised me a little. 

Anyway, the whole thing was just. A whole barrel of struggle. I’m pretty pleased with the end result, but yeesh.

Biggest Disappointment: 

As usual, in myself, for not working more on my WIPs and not finishing we live until we die. I wanted that to happen this year, I really did, and while I suppose it’s not surprising it didn’t (there was a lot of planning that needed to happen, and continued to need to happen), I’m still disappointed. 

Biggest Surprise: 

Other than “the fact that I wrote Lymond fic at all” and “the fact that people actually read the Lymond fic I wrote”? Probably the continued and aggressive expansion of the Where the Devil Don’t Go verse. I thought it was over after I wrote drown my woes in a lake of fire but then it turned out that there were (checks) five more installments I was going to write, and two more in the works, and one other that is on Tumblr but not cross-posted. 

I did not see that coming at all.

Most Unintentionally Telling Story: 

I never really know how to answer this question. I guess sometimes there is an obvious one, usually meaning “Jesus, Lise, how fucked up can you get” and in that sense it would definitely be no good doing what I’m told, but...I actually think in some ways it might be how the dead walk. It isn’t...exactly the same as my issues, but there are some ways in which it aligns with them in ways that are different from the ones I usually work with when I’m writing Loki.

Favorite Opening Line(s):

1. The first thing that Felix noticed about Malkar was his hands. (The Anvil and the Chain)

2. The moment he was left alone, Maeglin stumbled to his feet, untethered the nearest horse, and set off back toward the smoke and flame still visible on the horizon. (how should I begin)

3. For the first month and a half after Rocket’s friends arrived on Midgard, along with the remains of Asgard’s population, Loki avoided Gamora with the skill and determination of a mouse evading a fox. (came through the jaws of Death)

4. In the summer of the Year of Our Lord 1000, there was a false alarm, brought about by millennial fever both Up and Downstairs, that the Apocalypse was imminent. (Mercy)

5. A long while ago Loki had read, in a book that was now ash, about the formation of storms. (we haven’t slept in years)

Favorite Line(s) from Anywhere:

1. I was lying on my stomach with shackles on my wrists and ankles and the water was rising. Someone, somewhere, was crying. It might have been a ghost. It might have been me. (As I breathe, he burns my lungs like fever)

2. Like my fear of water, fear of Malkar ran in my blood, and was as much a part of me. (The Road to Mourning)

3. “I am not in the mood for indulgence. Is there a purpose to this pageantry, o my Pasha?”

“Save that it is my pleasure?” Gabriel regarded him with a touch of amusement. “You would rather I tied you to a whipping post and had you flogged?”

“You would gain marks for consistency,” Lymond said. (gather frankincense)

4. “Because you are the flaw. You are the fault along which the stone splits. You are what is wrong.” (Mirror, Mirror)

5. “Would you rather I were?” Loki said, and there was something soft and vicious in his voice even with the lingering rasp that made the hair on the back of Clint’s neck all stand on end. “I think not. I am aware that you do not want me here. No doubt you would rather have Thor. That is fine; I would rather you had Thor, too. Don’t think I am not aware of the long and manifold list of my failures. That does not mean I want them enumerated to me by you.” (the enemy of my enemy)

6. “I am too beautiful to die,” Celegorm said with confidence.

But you are going to, Curufin thought. We all are. Condemned as surely as if we were Secondborn. Maybe not now, but... He held his tongue and simply said, “oh, naturally.” Celegorm wheezed a laugh and closed his eyes again. (After the Fire)

7. And yet he misses Thor. No, that is wrong: saying he misses Thor is as inadequate as it would be to say that he misses breathing. He is that central, that vital, that involuntary.

If anyone asked, Loki thinks he would tell them that was why he was running. To prove that he can. (These Vagabond Shoes)

8. The smile, when it came, was sharp. “O Castitas,” Lymond said, “Mater et Virgo, extingue carnales concupiscentias! But enough. For whom this mummer’s show? Do we not know each other better now? For certainly I have known flesh of your flesh, blood of your blood... and she drew mine.” (The Compassion of the Wicked)

9. There was a way Thor had of saying things that made them inarguable. Loki had no idea how he did it - it was as though he spoke the words and it just was, like the world bent itself to suit what he said, only it bent itself so it was as though it had always been true. Loki had always found it maddening. (Speak every man the truth)

10. Everyone got a bit twitchy in the 1300s. People started getting suspicious of the dark glasses. They seemed to think Crowley was hiding something, which he was, but that wasn’t any of their business. (Five Hundred Ways to Discorporate a Demon)

11. This was what the Grandmaster did. He showed you a door, or what looked like a door, and then yanked you back just when it seemed to be in reach. Or proved that it had never been there at all, and what had you been thinking to try to get away, anyway, after everything he’d done for you? (preacher man won’t cut no slack)

12. “You can’t help me,” Loki said, breathless. “There is nothing left to help.”

“That isn’t true,” Thor said weakly. “You are here, aren’t you?”

“Here,” Loki said. “Yes. But I am - I am not myself. I am a cobbled together patchwork of Odin’s making and the Grandmaster’s making and the making of the Void. And yours.” All the feeling had gone from his voice. “You want your brother back. But that person doesn’t exist. If he ever did.” (where I make my home)

Top 5 Scenes from Anywhere You Would Choose to Have Illustrated:

There are a lot of pieces from Mirror, Mirror that I would love to see, but maybe especially the one where Loki is looking at his reflection and notices how sick he appears, when the shadow appears behind him.

Gabriel making Lymond kneel in gather frankincense. Look, I am who I am.

Thor sitting next to ghost!Loki from it slips between my fingers now.

Curufin kneeling (SHUT UP) in front of Finrod with wounded Celegorm in his arms from After the Fire. It could be very Pieta. There’s a lot going on there. I just want it.

Steve and Loki at the top of the waterfall from into the light of a dark black night, just before Loki dives over.

Fic-writing goals for 2020:

Finish we live until we die. This is probably the biggest, most concrete one on my list. 

Write! More! Lymond fic! I have three ideas and I really like all of them - I just need to stop having staring contests and psyching myself out and actually do the writing.

Whittle that WIP list down to at least under 70. Under 65 would be even better.

That’s really all. I’m keeping them modest. Also here is “try to chill out, a little, about your pathological productivity problem” but that’s an ongoing project that maybe doesn’t count for the spirit of this question.

[the-minyard-twins]

Andreil Fic Rec

I’ve always wanted to do a fic rec so here we are! I’ve read a lot of Andreil recently and these are my top 28 favorite Andreil and AFTG fics

1. Trust Fall (And Welcoming Arms) by SpangleBangle

85k | Explicit

Life goes on after the Foxes win the championship, and for Andrew and Neil it’s uncharted territory with only each other for guides. Maybe it’s time to put away some of those hard edges, and learn how to touch more softly, and speak more honestly. And if they falter, they have their family to help them get back on their feet.

2. Learning To Feel (When You’ve Forgotten How) by thegirlwiththeprettybrowneyes

43k | Teen | No Proust AU

On the night before his first day of therapy at Easthaven, Andrew blows out his legs and decides he isn’t going to bury his feelings anymore, consequences be damned. In return, he gets a schedule change, and a very strange new therapist. /////// “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you,” Andrew finished, looking anywhere but at Neil’s face. Neil looked like he had just realized the sky was blue. “You like me,” Andrew sighed. “Yeah,” he said, resigned “Yeah, Neil, I like you,” /////// No Proust AU

3. Broken by Jeni182

34k | Explicit

Andrew attempts suicide and he and Neil try to navigate his recovery and healing together.

4. Waves by Jeni182 (sequel to Broken)

94k | Explicit

Broken Part II - Neil and Andrew try to navigate life post Andrew’s suicide attempt now that he’s in Denver and Neil’s in his last year at PSU.

5. Funky Happenings with the Fox Family by dobbypussypopper

29k | Teen | text!fic

naughtygayweedcrime: did I rlly just see neil say woke

naughtygayweedcrime: what a surreal timeline we live in

dumbfool: allison is trying to teach me how to meme so I can get hip

naughtygayweedcrime: bless your poor soul

davidwymack: sometimes I regret living

davidwymack has muted exyllent, damnwilds, + 7 others for 30 minutes

6. Something in Return by reaching _my_summit

31k | Mature

“Andrew Minyard, how will you celebrate winning your final college Exy championship?”

“I’m going to Disney World,” Andrew deadpans.

- - -

Andrew’s final year at Palmetto State comes to a close. His future is upon him and there are plans to be made. Years ago, Neil asked Andrew to stop smoking in exchange for something. Andrew finally knows what he wants in return.

7. The Unloved Kids by AlrightDarlin

35k | Not Rated

“I intend to treat them the same. I need strong athletes, not toddlers,” Wymack starts, but sits back with a sigh, running a hand over his face. “But hypothetically, if I had to look after a bunch of toddlers on the weekends…”

Betsy’s eyes crinkle with her smile. “Are you asking advice?”

“They’re screwed up enough,” Wymack says, “I’m not trying to make it worse.”

(David Wymack takes his little nightmares and does his best to corral them and love them within an inch of their lives. He can’t change what happened to them, but he can be there for them now.)

8. Turn it Off by elawless

10k | Mature

“It hurts…so much…too…much” He choked out between breaths. “I want to let go so…bad. I am so close”. He lifted his head to look at Andrew and saw no blue in his eyes and believed Andrew was real, but the rest of the pain was. It was just enough for him to trust Andrew with what he would say next.

“Stay. Give me Neil back. Don’t leave.” Andrew could no longer cover all of his desperation, his voice seemed to crack on the last word.

“Just let me turn it off. Just for today. Neil will come back. Bring him back, for the both of you.”

9. VW Actually Means “Very Weird” by exyjunkies

15k | Gen

If it was just going to be the two of us, then why bring the Volkswagen?

So that if I end up murdering you on this road trip, I’ll have enough space for clean-up.

Neil and Andrew take on the Pacific Coast Highway over the span of two and a half weeks, with a surprise for one of them at the very end.

10. Puzzle Pieces by Nikotheamazingspoonklepto

59k | Explicit | Series

Neil’s life is a puzzle, the people in it are the pieces that give everything meaning. Together they make a picture of happiness.

11. diet mountain dew by reaching_my_summit

2k | Teen

neil thinks andrew is very pretty. he tells andrew exactly that.

12. For Science by ClockworkDragon, DeyaAmaya

8k | Explicit

“Here’s what I propose: we’ll play a game, and I’ll even let you pick which one, but we’re going to set some stakes. I’m not going to let you talk big and walk away free of punishment if you lose.” Without hesitating, Kevin asked, “Fine, I choose Trivial Pursuit. What are the stakes?” Allison put a finger to her lips and tilted her head, as if she was actually thinking of a response and didn’t plan this whole thing days ago. “Hmm, did you know the spirit store recently added fox themed thigh-high socks to their stock? They’ve become quite popular amongst cheerleaders.” This statement seemed to throw Kevin off because he just stared blankly at Allison until she continued. Andrew was not, however, an idiot. He could see where this was going. “How about whoever loses has to wear the socks for an entire school day; including morning and evening practices?” “Holy shit,” Nicky whispered. “You are one devious bitch.” Allison winked.

13. ain’t no rest for the wicked by dearhappy

8k | Teen | Lucifer!AU

“You really expect me to believe that?“ Neil asks, "Especially when his girlfriend said that he’d always been worried about what you’d ask for in return, and that he called you the Devil.”

“I don’t lie,” Andrew says simply. “You can think whatever you want.”

“Why was he so worried if that was all it was?”

“He made a deal with the Devil,” Andrew says, “Tell me you wouldn’t be worried about that.”

14. Not Damsels, not Knights by my_unlikely_hero

93k | Mature

Neil is not a damsel, Andrew is not a knight, Riko is not a dragon. Nobody gets saved. Not really.

Or: Riko goes too far, and Neil is left in pieces.

15. The Continuing Adventures of the Nine-Nine by gluupor

48k | Gen | Series | Brooklyn 99!AU

A series of short, ridiculous, mostly plotless stories featuring the Foxes as the cops of the Ninety-Ninth Precinct.

16.  Not Only You and Me by orphan_account (part of a series)

18k | Explicit | Porn!AU

Andrew, Neil and Kevin film Foxy’s first gay threesome porn scene.

Cue the feelings.

17. High School Science by fuzzballsheltipants

30k | Teen/Explicit (parts 1-3 are Teen and part 4 is Explicit) | Series 

High School!AU

18. False Equivalence by sunrise_and_death

22k | Teen

Some part of her had known it would come back to Neil. He was the one who had cracked the twins the first time. Of anyone, he was the most likely to have a solution for this as well.

Although the events of the previous year resolved a lot of issues, Katelyn quickly discovers that not every problem has been addressed. As she attempts to map a future in which Aaron has both her and his family, she finds herself once again working with Neil Josten—to unexpected results.

19. trans andrew by aceaaronminyard, autisitcandrewminyard

30k | Explicit | trans!Andrew

a fanfic series for a tfc au where andrew minyard wasn’t registered into the system as andrew doe but as erin doe.

mostly set post-tkm. mostly porn.

20. Advice and Amusement by Autumnalhogwarts

11k | Teen

After a series of failed attempts to woo Renee, Allison turns to Andrew for help. As Renee’s best guy friend he’s in a unique position to offer advice. However, that doesn’t mean he’ll be willing to.

21. Kidnapped by Shell_Writes

21k | Explicit

Neil and Aaron get kidnapped by four deranged men while the team is on a camping trip. shit happens and they have to escape this horror house. together.

22. Return of Dad!Mack by SensationalSunburst

14k | Gen | Series

Dad!Wymack & Mom!Abby

23. For He’s A Jolly Good Felon by gluupor

4k | Teen | Felon!Neil

What’s a guy to do when he’s forced to go to his conservative, homophobic aunt and uncle’s for Thanksgiving dinner?

Why, invite along his ex-con, tattooed, argumentative roommate as his fake boyfriend, of course.

24. make my heart shake (bend and break) by WaifsandStrays

4k | Explicit

Aaron develops a fascination with Kevin’s dick, has a sexuality crisis and feelings and fails to process any of it.

25. Across the Water by transandrewminyard

13k | Teen | trans!Andreil

Perhaps several years too late, or maybe right on time, Neil Josten runs away from home and tries to dream a new life for himself. How poetic that his first night out on his own would deliver him to a stranger who seems to understand everything he’s been through, and then some?

26. Prompt: Andrew and Neil get to babysit Sophie by orphan_account

14k | Mature | part of a series

What it says on the tin, basically.

Aaron and Matt leave for a few days and ask Andrew and Neil to babysit Sophie. Baby-sized exy is involved. Also lots and lots of angst. But there is a happy ending!

27. Salt Bros and Roller Derby Vixens by moonix

14k | Teen | Series

Roller Derby!AU

28. Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by priorwalter

12k | Teen | Felon!Neil, Author!Andrew

“So,” Neil asks as he washes his paint-covered hands in the kitchen sink, “Christmas.”

Andrew glares and says nothing. This year, Neil and Andrew are spending Christmas with Andrew’s brother, Aaron Minyard. Aaron Minyard, Andrew’s twin whose existence was unknown to him until two months previous. Aaron Minyard, an orthopedic surgeon with a wife (an oncologist, naturally) and two daughters. Aaron Minyard, who grew up with a mother that chose him.

**

Andrew Doe has survived until age twenty-nine without any biological family, and his life turned out pretty good, considering all of the reasons it shouldn’t have. At age twenty-nine, Andrew’s book becomes a bestseller and leads his long-lost twin brother to him. Familial drama ensues.

[elie-lou]

THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND when writting Solangelo, Will and Nico :

I wanted something to remember myself and others of a few things that are important and/or that I are often forgotten in solangelo fics.

While I understand that perfectly respecting everything about a character might be hard nd block creativity, I personnaly prefer when characters are as much in character and as close to their original content conterpart as possible. 

After all, I look for solangelo fics to read solangelo not some other pairing/characters vaguely resembling them.

So here is the list :  * While they haven't been shown holding hands or doing other physically « intimate » gestures like hugging, cuddling or kissing, they still touch each other by bumping their shoulders constantly, sitting close to one another or placing their hands on each other shoulders. And for Nico this is already HUGE !!! Remember how he hates people touching him ?  => I HC  that they only hold hands and stuff like that when there is no one around. And little by little, Nico will learn to be more openly and publicly affectionate with his bae, but that will take time and probably will never be huge on PDA. 

* Nico is from the 30's. So not only was he raised in another time, with old fashioned ideas about many many many things, but he also grew up in fascist Italy that considered homosexuals as deviants. Being who he is would have been not only illegal but also very dangerous back then. And for him this was like 4 years ago, not 70 years ago. Even in ToA, 6 months after starting to accept himself, and while dating Will, he is shown to still be struggling with it, if he rejection of the word boyfriend is any indication. So this, his struggle with being gay, his fears of people’s reactions and his difficulties to accept his feelings and himself, has to influence his behaviour. even in AUs

* Due to all the traumatic events that he had to go through, Nico likely suffers from : PTSD (nightmares, hyperawareness of his surounding and any sudden movement or sound, survivor guilt, etc...), anxiety, social anxiety, abandonment issues, trust issues, self-esteem and self-caring issues.  And all these have to show and play a part in how he interacts and connects to others. Including his crush/boyfriend.

* Will also came through a bunch of  traumatic shists that shaped him : going to war, losing a lot of siblings, in some cases right in front of him, people he hasn't been able to save while he is a powerful healer, becoming counselor very young becuse he had to after the loss of his older siblings, while mourning them and taking care of his younger siblings, etc. … We also don't know why he is a year-round camper.

* They both have deep rooted insecurities, and pobably self-esteem  issues too. => HC that it migh create some issues between them because their insecurities would make them think (and therefore say or do) stupid things. Like for instance when Nico got jealous when Will looks at Paolo's arms.

* They spend as much time as they can together. And I have the feeling that it is mostly Will who initiates it. The only time when Nico openly asked to stay with Will was when the camp was under attack. => not that Nico does not want to take any opportunity to be with his « significant annoyance » but he is not yet in a place where he is comfortable enough to be that open about it.

* They almost constantly bicker like an old married couple … and still manage to look adorable while doing so, apparently.

* Humour seems to be an important part of their interactions/relationship. But they can also be serious and reasonable when needed.

* Will keeps giving Nico sarcastic nicknames such as : Lord of Darkness, Ghost King, etc. (probably just to annoy Nico)

* They don't hesitate to telll the other when he says or does something wrong or unsensitive.

* They are very supportive and caring of each other and seem  to understand each other very well. => HC that this is because, despite appearances and what one would think, they have a lot in common in terms of values and personnality : they are both compassionante, caring, selfless, brave, stubborn, aggravating, had to grow up very quickly at a young age, both harbor deep insecurities, etc. Honestly they are very well matched and balanced, personnality wise or even abilities wise and this could deserve a dedicated post in itself.

A few things that are not direcly related to their relationship but might still have some influence or that I have seen forgotten too many times in fanfics : * Nico is mostly recovered from everything that happened during the previous series. But he still has issues with his most draining magical tricks, like shadow travel. 

* And while Will is aware of that, he does not seem to be forbidding or reproaching Nico from using it anyway. There might have been restrictions the first weeks/months but not anymore and Will did not freak out when Nico shadow traveled in ToA.

* Nico almost never swears and generally speaks politely. He IS very sarcastic and blunt. But he will say please, thank you etc. even to the deads that he controls or even when he is upset. So please people stop making him use fuck like a coma.

* Will has yet to be seen swearing. But he has a more laid-back way of speaking (I think? As a foreigner it is alittle hard to say for me) and can make health related jokes or insults.

* Will is heavily implied to have had a hardcore crush on Nico for a long (but undetermined) amount of time.  => HC that they are each other first ralationship because Will does not seem the type to date someone while he is pinning for someone else.

This list was inspired by my post for the second day of @solangeloweek​ . I will probably edit and update it when I have time because this will be a tool for me when drawing/writting/HC solangelo.

If you want to discuss any of these or add more please leave a comment or contact me  ^_^

Have a good day !

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #13: To Tend the Flame

Prompt: wax | Master Post | On AO3

Notes: Spoilers for Shadowbringers MSQ and spoilers for the Binding Coils of Bahamut side story.

She first noticed it during the battle at Laxan Loft, but it’s not until they reach Il Mheg that Synnove really paid attention to the new aether curling and weaving amongst her own.

Oddly enough, it’s not the Lightwarden’s. That had felt ice-sharp and rotten-soft at the same time, white to the point of pain and not singing but screeching of broken glass and denied, raging hunger. No, that aether sat in the core of herself, sulking and bitter, but otherwise not influencing her spells.

No, this aether was…warm. Fiery, but the welcome flame of a campfire in the night, or the hearth of a well-loved home. She outright dismissed it as Ifrit’s aether leaking from Ivar; that was too distinctive and too familiar. This new aether was familiar, too, and the way it intertwined among her own, yet remains separate, reminded her of a primal’s lingering touch, so clearly at some point she had come into contact with it.

There was a niggle of an idea at the back of her mind. The hypothesis was set; now to observe.

First: the Dreadwyrm’s aether coalesced much faster. Previously, she had needed to trance at least twice to build up sufficient reserves to (grudgingly) indulge Ivar and use him as the core to summon Demi-Bahamut to the field. Now she only needed to trance just the once. Ivar, at least, was delighted by this change, her bloodthirsty, rage-filled boy.

(And at least she’d stopped having panic attacks every time she’d needed to activate that array.)

Second: the new, strange aether reached peak coalescence only after she had finished coalescing Dreadwyrm aether, and then dissipating it with a summon of Demi-Bahamut. In fact, she couldn’t even tap into Dreadwyrm aether again until she’d tranced with the new aether.

Third: while trancing with the new aether, it affected two of her spells. Outburst was a relatively new creation that the aetherochemistry department had only recently finalized; Synnove had offered to field test it shortly before she and the others had been whisked away to the First. That spell fluctuating due to an unexpected outside influence was unusual, considering how rigorously the Guild tested and developed their arrays, but not impossible. Ruin III, however, was an old standby, a tried and true blast of pure, unaspected power reserved for the most talented members of the Guild that had been in circulation for years. The only arrays more stable were the ones for the rest of the Ruin series and the standard carbuncle summons they gave to the baby arcanists (who weren’t insane overachievers like herself who had to write her own from scratch).

And it wasn’t just subtle effects. No, both Ruin III and Outburst were unaspected; arcanists liked working without the interference of specific elemental affinities, or alternatively with an equal amount of each kind so that they all canceled one another out, it made the math behave. (There was a bloody good reason she’d run into the wall on her artificial aether infusion project: working with elementally aspected aether was essentially working with literal fucking chaos and sometimes it was fun, but sometimes it just sucked.) This new surge of primal aether turned her respectable, unaspected spells into roiling balls of fire and pitch.

Ivar, of course, loved it. Heron and Alakhai, who also preferred to fight in the melee, not so much.

Fourth: the aether sang, as it always did. It reminded her very strongly of the Dreadwyrm aether’s dirge-like ballad, but this aether’s song was slower, more solemn. Wordless crooning matched with the resonant tones of an Ishgardian pipe organ. It was a funeral hymn: no rage, only deep, boundless sorrow, and a bottomless well of love.

Observations complete, she compared the data sets the night they vanquished Titania, absently rubbing her chest every so often as she did. The carbuncles curled up around her in various stages of patience—Galette in her usual spot around her neck, Tyr loafed next to her, Ivar sprawled in her lap and reaching up to either bat at his sister’s tails or his brother’s ears—as she set up the portable readout device she’d thankfully packed back on the Source. Synnove flipped open her grimoire sitting on the ground next to her on the opposite side of Tyr, paging through until she got to the first page of the arrays for Ivar’s passive sensor programming.

Humming quietly, she took the channeling stylus from her mouth, and placed the tip on the activation sigil. The array lit up, and so did the readout device, pulsing out a hologram that scrolled through the most recent aether readings. Synnove squinted as she skimmed the data, scratching Tyr’s neck until the big carbuncle turned into a happy puddle of brass purrs.

Then she called up data from nearly four years ago.

“Synnove?”

She looked up, only a little startled, to meet Alisaie’s worried gaze.

“Is everything all right?” said Alisaie.

Synnove looked back at the data, gnawing on her lower lip as the implications of the data sunk in. She let out a slow breath and said, “Don’t know yet. Fetch your brother, please, the both of you need to see this.”

Alisaie, Twelve bless her, didn’t hesitate, just turned and hurried off to find Alphinaud. She returned with her twin in a handful of minutes to the spot out in the fields surrounding Lydha Lran that Synnove had settled in to review her notes. By the time they reached her, Synnove had pulled up both data sets onto the viewer at once. She gestured, and the siblings both sat in front of her.

“So,” said Synnove, setting down her channeling stylus carefully to ensure the tip still touched the activation sigil of the array, “I’ve noticed a peculiar bit of aether mixing with my own recently and no, it’s not the Lightwarden’s.”

Alphinaud and Alisaie’s looks of alarms quickly subsided, in favor of concern and interest as Synnove outlined for them the changes she noted. Then she pointed to the readout device.

“The display on the left is the recent data Ivar’s passive sensors have recorded,” she said. “I’m sure Galette and Tyr’s would read the same, but since Ivar is the only one installed with the Dreadwyrm Protocols, he has the most complete set.”

Alphinaud scratched Tyr behind the ears, as the big carbuncle had crawled forward for pettings during Synnove’s explanation. “And I note that it’s exactly the same as the display on the right,” he said.

Synnove hummed agreement, rhythmically running her hand down Ivar’s back from his head to the base of his tails

Alisaie sat with her arms crossed, just staring at the displayed data. Finally, she said, “The data from the right is from the Binding Coils, isn’t it?”

“It is,” said Synnove, quiet and serious.

“That’s,” and Alisaie swallowed, “that’s Phoenix’s aether.”

“I believe so.”

Alphinaud didn’t look as rattled as his twin, but Synnove had known him long enough to spot the tension around his mouth and eyes. “Why now?” he said. “You’ve been using the Dreadwyrm Protocols for a number of years by now, so why has Phoenix’s aether remained dormant for so long?”

“My best guess,” said Synnove, “is because we’re here on the First. Eorzea is upfront about the fact that Dalamud’s fall and Bahamut’s rampage unquestionably fucked up the continent both on a physical and metaphysical level. The rest of our home star claims suddenly only having a single moon in the sky after the second one blew up a few miles directly above the surface had no effect on their magicks and aether, but we can all three agree that they’re probably trying to save face to a bunch of foreigners how mucked up things got for them, because that is a load of chocobo shite.”

Alphinaud coughed, smothering a smile, as Alisaie momentarily forgot her distress and snickered loudly.

“Bahamut’s aether didn’t just insinuate itself into everyone at Carteneau,” continued Synnove, continuing to pet Ivar and reaching up with her other hand to scratch behind Galette’s ears. Both carbuncles purred happily. “And it didn’t just insinuate itself into everyone in Eorzea, though I’ll grant that Eorzeans have the highest concentrations. No, Bahamut’s aether is everywhere on the Source; it’s permeated every rock and tree and beastkin and Spoken.

“It’s always been too easy to coalesce Dreadwyrm aether; when I’ve run through my own aetheric reserves, I can still use the Protocols without much fuss. If I was only ever using the aether comingled with my own, I should run out, but I don’t. Thus, I have to be unconsciously drawing upon the Dreadwyrm aether all around me.”

“But here on the First,” said Alphinaud, thoughtful, “Bahamut’s aether only exists in you and us Scions. I have noticed you still have had no issues using the Protocols, so we can assume you are able to draw on the Dreadwyrm aether within us and the others.”

Synnove inclined her head to him. “Just so.”

“So, with a finite amount of Dreadwyrm aether,” said Alisaie, “Phoenix’s aether is finally detectable, and even able to exert influence and become usable with the dissipation of Bahamut’s. And with how quickly and how strong it coalesces, it needs to be dissipated in turn before repeating the cycle.”

“That is my theory for what’s occurring,” said Synnove. “And, of course, I’ve noticed it steadily growing stronger and more stable since this began. No doubt it’ll continue to do so, although at the moment I couldn’t tell why.”

The twins shared a long, silent look. Alphinaud raised a single eyebrow. Alisaie nodded.

They turned back to her, their expressions serious, but the gleam of excitement was in their eyes. Synnove recognized it and grinned; bless their nerdy hearts, her darling little sibs.

“What would you like to do with this, Synnove?” said Alphinaud.

“And how can we help?” said Alisaie.

“Well,” drawled Synnove, “we’ll need to build some arrays to control how Phoenix’s aether warps my spells when I’m trancing with it. And then, I believe, we should prepare for the day when his aether has grown strong enough that Phoenix will fly the skies of the First as he once did at Carteneau to vanquish Bahamut, with all the prayers of Eorzea to guide him. If you two are all right with that?”

The twins dove forward to embrace her; Galette squwaked unhappily at being jostled, but they ignored her. Synnove returned their hugs, smiling, and tucked them in under her arms. Tyr immediately came over to flop across all three of their laps.

“You’re the only one I’d trust with it,” Alisaie said.

“We couldn’t think of anyone better suited,” added Alphinaud.

“Thank you,” Synnove said, as heartfelt and honored as she could. “Now then, my fellow nerds, let’s get to it!”

[courtingstars]

Notes on The Vanishing Prince, Chapter Three

Yay, Chapter Three at last! I had more notes than I expected, probably because I was looking forward to writing all of these scenes for SO LONG.

This was a pretty self-indulgent chapter on my part, for a lot of reasons. XD But I hope it still included some enjoyable moments, for those who have been looking forward to Furihata and Akashi’s feelings for each other progressing!

So keep reading for notes about Reo’s tarot skills, Akashi’s reasoning about his emotions at this point, and Furihata’s bisexual ogling of BASICALLY EVERYONE. (I can’t lie, the idea of Furi literally staring at everyone around him trying to figure out if he thinks they’re hot or not was super funny to me? Which was probably obvious. //laughs)

(Cut for tarot stuff, notes about platonic vs. romantic feelings, and me rambling on and on about bisexual representation and how I’m way too emotionally invested in N700 trains…)

Mibuchi and Tarot Cards

Some readers might be wondering if I made up the idea of Reo (I always call him Reo even though I use his surname in fics, I can’t help it, he’s just Reo to me??) being able to read tarot cards. And the answer is, I did not! According to one of the canon fanbooks, Reo’s special talent is tarot card reading. Back when I started planning The Vanishing Prince, I knew basically nothing about tarot cards. But I thought it might be interesting if Reo’s hobby appeared in the fic, since there’s going to be a lot of supernatural stuff going on.

Then I randomly started learning a little bit about tarot cards last year. I decided to explore it further, partly to write this fic, and partly for other writing-related reasons. (And it turned into this whole bizarre slash amazing THING that I won’t go into here.)

But anyway, a little over a year ago, I actually did a real-life tarot reading for Akashi, just to see what came up… And weirdly enough (or not, according to people like Reo, haha), the cards I drew fit PERFECTLY with the plot of this fic! So for the reading in Chapter Three, I used the same cards I pulled that day. That’s also why it uses the classic Celtic Cross spread layout, because I was still learning the basics at the time.

(I also did a reading for Furihata on that same day… So did it fit with this fic too, and will it come up in a future chapter? We will see. //grins)

Needless to say, I’m still no expert on the tarot! But I did my best to show how the cards could apply to what’s been happening in the story. (And what may happen later as well…) I also tried to balance the more traditional meanings of the cards with Reo’s interpretation of what they could mean for Akashi. Many experienced tarot readers like to use their intuition and the images on the cards as a method to interpret a reading, rather than the traditional meanings alone.

Reo will be in this fic a lot, so I don’t want to say too much about my characterization of him just yet… But I’ve always thought of him as someone who is guided by intuition in many ways, based on his canonical skill with the tarot. So I felt that he would probably mix traditional card meanings with his own instincts as he saw fit.

Akashi’s Feelings and Platonic vs. Romantic

So given how attached Akashi (Oreshi) clearly is to Furihata at this point, I think a lot of readers might be wondering why he still thinks his feelings for Furihata are platonic? Which is… an excellent question. //laughs There’s a LOT going on behind that, which is going to be unpacked over the course of the story.

But this chapter does briefly mention a part of his reasoning, so I thought it was worth pointing out… At the end of Chapter Two, Oreshi mentioned his other self was ignoring a major reason why he still believes his feelings for Furihata are platonic. In this chapter, Akashi mentions that reason in a different context:

“Akashi was under the impression that romance was supposed to include certain urges, about wanting to kiss and touch the other person. Supposedly, it involved a form of physical desire that was intense, possibly even explicit… As far as he knew, Akashi had never experienced any of that.

“True, he was still young. But teenagers were supposed to want to kiss each other, at the very least. Weren’t they?”

I didn’t connect it directly, but this is what Oreshi also meant in Chapter Two. Basically, he’s under the impression that romance has to involve certain forms of physical desire. And he isn’t experiencing that toward anyone, as far as he knows. Again, there’s a LOT going on there, and it’ll come up again in the fic. But it’s worth mentioning, since it’s not exactly obvious!

Personally, I find the question of what makes a relationship platonic vs. romantic to be really interesting… Especially since some people have romantic relationships that aren’t as physical. The nuances can get murky, so that’s definitely been a part of Akashi’s internal debate, which started back in Part Two of Storming The Castle.

About That Locker Scene

So now on the topic of being self-indulgent… I really couldn’t resist including that Seirin cameo scene. XD I love Seirin SO MUCH, and I really miss writing about all of them! Plus, I thought it would be kind of funny to answer a question that absolutely no one asked…

Which is, if we assume that Furihata is attracted to Akashi, then which guy would he find the most attractive on his own team? I honestly can’t remember why I came up with an answer to this question. //laughs But I did at some point, and now you all know my theory. (Basically, ikemen/pretty-boy point guards who are very skilled, but don’t have the most successful humor and are actually kind of huge nerds? Lol.) I also had a backup answer, which was probably obvious in the scene too. XD

And on a random side note, the phrase “some kind of magical ab factory” is one of my favorite phrases I’ve ever written. Pfft.

Also, if you’re wondering why the Rakuzan players didn’t get more of an appearance this time, don’t worry! You’ll definitely see more of them soon. (A lot more. Probably way more than anyone wants. //laughs)

On Furihata and Bisexuality

Anyway, in all seriousness, I’ve been looking forward to writing these scenes where poor Furi is trying to figure out his sexuality for FOREVER. There are a lot of reasons why… The two biggest ones have to do with LGBTQA+ representation, and explaining a key part of the romantic plotline of the series.

So I’m sure a lot of readers were wondering how in the world Furihata managed to be in denial for so long about his attraction to Akashi… Especially given that he’s called Akashi handsome and pretty, and has literally been ogling him for most of the series? //laughs So this is loosely based on something I noticed when I was younger, both in terms of my experiences and those of people I knew. When I was a teenager around fifteen years ago (I know, the dark ages, haha), the concept of bisexuality was really underrepresented, and often ignored. It did exist, in theory. But a lot of the time, most people just assumed you had to be gay or straight—or otherwise you were confused/undecided. Which was, of course, not exactly helpful.

The Spark of Light series takes place in 2010. While the overall understanding of bisexuality was improving by that point, there were still plenty of issues (and still are, to be honest). Also, the idea of bisexuality wasn’t necessarily being discussed in mainstream Japan… Being attracted to more than one gender has existed in their culture for a long time, of course. (Just look at their history and literature!) But from what I understand, due to a whole bunch of complicated reasons, there hasn’t been the same emphasis on recognizing the modern idea of bisexuality as there has been in, say, Western countries. That being said, things in Japan are changing a lot recently. And I could go into that, and how fascinating it is, but I’ll save it for another day!

What I do want to emphasize, though, is that not very long ago, a lot of teenagers tended to assume they were either gay or straight, period. For all kinds of reasons, many of us didn’t really consider anything else. And because of mainstream social conditioning—and homophobia—it often made sense to focus on your attraction to the opposite gender, without trying to figure out if you were attracted to other genders as well. To be honest, I’m guessing this still happens in a lot of places, given how much pressure there still is to be straight/have heterosexual relationships.

Which brings me to the issue of representation… One of the places I used to notice a lack of bisexual representation, oddly, was in fandom. Back when I started to post fic online (circa 2005), if fans had a headcanon that a character was attracted to another character of the same gender, it was typically framed as, “They’re gay.” Even if the character had relationships in canon with the opposite gender.

In fanfiction, this was often explained with something along the lines of, “He thought he liked women, but he really didn’t/was repressing his sexuality.” More often, the issue wasn’t addressed at all. Of course, gay-but-repressed is a completely valid interpretation, and happens in real life! But I always found it kind of strange that no matter how much the character seemed to have enjoyed their past relationships, people rarely concluded, “They’re bisexual.” I see bisexual headcanons a LOT more in fandom now, which is awesome! And I really wanted to contribute to that.

So when I started A Spark of Light, I knew Furihata would be finding out that he’s bisexual. I wanted to go with that interpretation, instead of implying that Furihata never actually wanted a girlfriend when he joined Seirin, or that he was confused, etc. I also wanted to attempt to portray what it’s like to be attracted to more than one gender, when you’re still figuring out your sexuality and you suddenly realize you’re attracted to more types of people than you originally thought you were? (And that some of the attractive people you ogled, but just assumed it was in a purely aesthetic/platonic way, were actually some of your crushes. //laughs)

So long story short… Furihata having such an obvious crush on Akashi, and yet not realizing it for so long, was definitely intentional! (Whether or not it worked well in the story being a separate issue, haha.) Because sometimes teenagers don’t hear often enough that they could be bisexual, so they don’t fully consider it, and it can take a while to figure it out, and sexuality can be fluid/change over time… And also, adolescence is generally a kind of weird period in life. XD (And so are the ways that social expectations affect our self-perception, especially when we’re young.)

In any case, this is just the beginning of Furihata exploring that issue, and what it means for him. But I wanted to make sure to clarify some of it as soon as possible, to give some idea of what I was trying to portray.

And Finally, Some Feelings About the Train Scene

I have to admit, I got a little emotional when I was FINALLY able to write Furihata riding on another N700 train, and thinking about how he has a crush on Akashi. <3 I’ve been looking forward to this moment in the series, and for Furi to realize he’s always been attracted to Akashi, ever since I wrote this part in The Fast Train to Kyoto WAY BACK in the fall of 2015:

“Akashi was sitting beside the window, just like before. He had a laptop computer balanced on his tray, and was typing away. Furihata couldn’t help noticing that he looked more unreal than ever. The ember-like glow of the sunset shone on his skin, mirroring his crimson hair and eyes. He looked like a picture of some kind, and way more mature than a teenager, with his blazer slung over an armrest and his shirtsleeves rolled up at the elbows.

Furihata had meant to speak first, maybe make up some excuse for running off, or even apologize for being such a nutcase. But when he opened his mouth, his tongue and throat felt strangely dry.”

So yeah, that’s how far back some of the foreshadowing goes. XD; I do enjoy writing subtext, but it’s so nice to finally be at a point in this series where the characters are having to face up to their changing feelings, and figure out what it means for them going forward. Also, I’m just so happy that I was able to get to this part, even though it took so damn long! It was worth the struggle. <3

I hope those of you who have been following this series enjoyed the chapter! And I hope you’re as excited as I am to be going back to Kyoto with these precious nerds. (It might get a bit intense, I won’t lie. //laughs) The next chapter is more or less ready to go, so my current plan is to post it in about two weeks. And I’m also hoping to post a lot more of the story during the summer. <3