#something about wanting to protect what he loves at the cost of his self expression

[asspinkie]

in my opinion, halsin can do partial wildshape like halfway through on the animorph thing. no this is not allowed in canon 5e. no i do not care. imagine halsin like this but with the bear form. i would not be able to restrain myself

[pbandnoj]

The JjK men reacting to finding out you’re infertile. This was honestly a self-indulgent fic idea but then it won on the poll I put out and honestly I was kinda surprised people were interested! Yall picked the only fic I didn’t have finished but I do now so here it is! If you’d like a part 2 let me know! +what characters!

Toji

You didn’t tell him until years into the relationship. Sure maybe that wasn’t the healthiest thing but oh well things happened and you couldn’t change the past. And it took so long for Toji to trust you… that you just didn’t want to add another thing on top of it to deal with. I mean it took him almost a year for him to introduce you to his kids. It took him that long just to feel serious about your relationship.

And it’s not like he asked either, or used a condom. Cmon, we all know his history with women and he just kinda presumed you were on the pill, or that he’d deal with the consequences after the fact. He had two kids, this wasn’t his first time around the block. And even after he got serious with you he never brought up wanting to have another. His hands were full, and besides he wasn’t very well off. I mean you guys made it work, but that was just with the 4 of you, who knows what adding another would do.

So the conversation didn’t happen until probably 5… maybe 6 years in. Where you both had pretty much decided that you were stuck with each other. That if you lost each other at this point in life there would be no reason to restart the process of finding someone new all over again. He trusted you, and god that meant a lot coming from a man like Toji, his goal was to protect his kids and now you along with them.

Laying on the couch one night, one kid off at a sleepover the other supposed to be returning home soon. You guys trusted them… maybe a lil too much. Head resting on his chest, listening to the way his heart pounded, like it wanted to leap out of his chest and make it known just how much he loved you, how much joy he found being with you. Something he thought he’d never find again after the loss of his first wife, and the second one leaving him.

Some thriller played in the background, some movie franchise Toji was secretly a big fan of. Half empty beers sitting on the coffee table, one of his hands softly scratching your back, softer than the man had ever been before. You, aimlessly fiddling with his other hand that adorned his shiny wedding ring, one that matched yours, deciding on simple ones that didn’t cost much, but meant a lot.

“Hey Toji?” You muttered out, voice weaker than you intended, his hand on your back instinctively tightened, a simple grunt in response. Your tone of voice worried him, that tone always did, meant you’d ruin the peace with something serious, as he’d always say. But really he was just always worried it’d be something so serious that he’d end up losing you.

When you didn’t continue, he grumbled, ready for you just to spit it out. This type of atmosphere either had 1 of 2 endings to whatever conversation was going to happen, either you were super upset over something really really detrimental or it was something silly you were getting all caught up on. “What is it woman? You’re ruining the movie,” his words were harsh, but you were long past the phase of wondering if he was mad at you over simply the way he normally spoke.

“Well….Did you ever… I don’t know… question why I was so excited that you had kids?” You hummed out softly, your hand that was fiddling with the ring on his finger slowly moving to hold his hand instead. Toji had once in the past let it slip that when he had tried dating before you he often got hurt cause they didn’t want to deal with his already pre-started family. He sighed knowing you were overthinking something, “Mmm, not really, was just grateful,” that was one of the first time you had actually heard him be so openly heartfelt.

“Oh…. Well it’s cause I can’t have my own,” you hummed softly. His expression didn’t change, nothing more than an eyebrow quirking up, “Is that so doll?” He mumbled, already deciding this convo was one of the silly ones, aka option 2. You took his response as him just simply brushing you off, watching his eyes reconnect with the tv screen and his hand that was intertwined with yours, now reaching for his beer bottle, “Those kids, Megumi and Tsumiki, are just as much yours now as they are mine.” Everything he had needed to say was in that one little sentence alone.

Your eyes widened, “Oh Toji,” you muttered softly, holding back tears, “Oh Jesus don’t cry,” he huffed, resuming his hand on your back, rubbing soft soothing circles. Reaching his head down to press a kiss to the top of your head but in his head he was just glad this was one of your silly overthought moments.

Nanami

You told him on your 3rd date. Nanami was a classy man, made you feel really stupid for some of the guys you had dated in the past, so you wanted to treat him right just as he treated you.

On your first date he was stiff, and awkward even, but it was endearing in a way. You both had worked together so there was no reason for him be worried but it was nice to know that someone like Nanami could be nervous. That date was a dinner date.

Your second was a bit more relaxed, a bowling alley, an idea recommended by Gojo an annoying coworker you both shared (and bonded over complaining about). It was nice cause Nanami could get a few drinks in, relax a bit, unbutton the top button of his shirt. Strike some strikes and whatever else you did in bowling. It was nice.

Your third date was a walk through the park, a bit more impromptu but you had decided this one, invited him on it too. It was after an early mission, so you two were done around the afternoon. The sun was warm, flowers blooming, walking side by side down some path. And of course the relationship wasn’t official but Nanami knew from the first time he had saw you he wanted you.

His hand was placed respectfully on your lower back, of course after making sure you were ok with it, and trees lined the pathway you were walking on. He had haphazardly stuck a flower in your hair, one he had picked along your walk.

He was warm, comforting, made you feel like you could be you, so you wanted to be honest. “Kento… are you sure I’m the one you want?” You asked gently, eyes nervously looking up at him as you bit your lip, awaiting his response.

“Of course,” he scoffed, he may be a gentleman but he sure was sassy. “Why wouldn’t I?” He hummed tilting his head down to look at you. “Well… I just think some of are goals don’t align,” you sighed and an eyebrow raise from him was all you needed to know that he was listening.

“Well I…. Look… I can’t… I can’t give you a family,” you muttered looking away, your body becoming rigid against his, “And what do you mean by that?” His voice stern, impending, but not harsh just… curious. “Well… I can’t exactly procreate and it be successful…you get it?” You mumbled under your breath as you picked at the sides of your nails.

Oh, that’s what you meant. He nodded more as a confirmation for his inner thoughts than anything you said, he brought one of his free hands to swat at yours that were picking, “That’s fine,” he shrugged looking back ahead at the path.

“What?” You half yelled definitely hearing some bird flying away from you at the disturbance, “But you.. didn’t you wanna settle down? Have a family? I’ve heard you talk about it,” you grumbled.

He rolled his eyes, “Sure I did, but none of that would mean anything without you,” he hummed, stopping to face you. Tilting your head up by your chin, tired eyes meeting yours, “I want you and you alone. If I can’t have children so be it. You’re enough for me.”

And needless to say it was definitely official after that.

Sukuna

The king of curses was already a very scary man, and honestly talking to him could be quite… difficult to say the least. So you swore off to never tell him. And he didn’t even want the little rascals anyway.

Children were too… annoying for someone who was already so irritating himself, and a little one just like him? Hell would freeze over if that happened.

But he couldn’t deny that you made him ponder. What would it be like? Having one.. or possibly two that were a mix of you both. Or better yet he’d like it more if they were exactly like you. The world would be a better place with only one version of Sukuna Ryomen in it.

Yet he didn’t think of it often. But you knew you had to come clean soon, you could feel the way he glared at your stomach as if trying to stare straight into your uterus. When really he was just trying to figure it if you could even carry a baby from a cursed spirit like him… or if he could get a mere mortal pregnant.

He started trying to, oh so so hard to get you pregnant, every single time burying himself all the way before shooting his load. Yet you never showed any signs. Maybe he was simply incapable. That made him frown.

And that was when you hit a dry spell. He had become so worried that he was shooting blanks or that it was simply impossible to have kids because he was a curse. He was a lot more grouchy, and a lot less touchy. Sukuna already found cuddling and the sorts useless but now? Oh he’d barely look at you now.

He was always easily agitated so you often had found it easier to avoid conflict but he was making it seem like you didn’t even exist. One night you burst into his chambers, a little more attitude in the way you shoved the doors open than you usual.

“Tell me,” you called out standing firmly at the edge of his bed, fuming as your first clenched. His raspy, booming laugh resounding amongst the room. “Tell you what exactly? I owe you nothing,” he hummed remaining in his relaxed position on his lavishly large bed.

“You’ve barely spoken to me or even looked at me in a week? You used to be insatiable what is the problem!” You scrambled out. He clicked his tongue as he rolled his eyes, “Tsk, it’s none of your business how I spend my time. If it bothers you then shoo.”

You groaned, you knew him better than that, he wasn’t being truthful. “Sukuna tell me or I will leave this time, I am done playing this game with you.” Narrowing his eyes he took a good long pause before speaking, pointing down to your abdomen, “You show no signs of pregnancy despite multiple times in the bedroom. I’m confused aren’t most women your age fertile?” He jested, quirking a brow.

“Oh,” you muttered straightening up as you sighed. He sensed the noticeable change, “Your soul’s wavering, you know I can feel it, spit it out,” he said, glaring at you, but his look was one more of concern, you could always tell the difference. “Well I uh…”

You walked around to sit on your side of the bed, really he’d never call it that to your face, before you he’d always just sprawled out. Now he made sure to leave that space empty. “Look I…. I can’t have em,” his brow raised, “Have what? You’re being cryptic mortal.”

You groaned, “Kids! I can’t have kids,” that was laughable. Wait you weren’t joking? Sukuna quickly realized that, “What are you deformed?” He teased but it didn’t help the way your eyes got all dewy. He grumbled, he may be practically a demon….. but he did care enough for you to be in his bed next to him.

“So you cannot produce my heir,” and all you could respond with was a shake of your head, confirming. To Sukuna this made him feel a million times better. He wasn’t shooting blanks you simply just weren’t able to be impregnated. He was joyous if not for the tone of the situation.

“Does not matter,” you shot your head over, a confused look on your face. “You wouldn’t have been able to carry my baby anyways, I’m far too powerful for a mortal to carry my heir,” he teased, and while he had his signature smirk you could see the slight tenderness through it.

This may have been one of the only times he seemed to have understood your turmoil. And also the only time for him to have been the first one to initiate physical contact, pulling you into his chest. One hand running protectively over your back, another in your hair, the other two wrapping around you. “Do not fret, calm your soul dear,” his deep voice muttered out soothingly. And that was probably the best you had ever slept.

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 10✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Underage Reader, Language, ANGST

Word Count: 8833

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

Dean’s breath caught, and for a moment, he looked like he had been struck by your question. His grip on your hands tightened, his eyes darkening with a mixture of emotions that he had been trying so hard to keep buried. He hesitated, his throat working as he tried to find the right words, the right way to respond without causing you more pain.

But the truth was, there was no easy answer. No way to say what he needed to say without it hurting both of you.

“I…”, Dean started, his voice thick with emotion. He looked away for a moment, his jaw clenched as he tried to control the storm of feelings raging inside him. When he looked back at you, his eyes were full of a pain that made your heart ache.

“Yeah, I do”, he admitted finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I like you… more than I should. More than I have any right to”.

The admission seemed to cost him, and he looked down, his gaze dropping to your joined hands as if he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. “But it doesn’t change anything, (Y/N). It can’t. I can’t… we can’t let this happen. It’s wrong”.

His words were filled with so much regret, so much self-reproach, that it made your heart break for him. But even though his answer was what you had feared, it was also what you had needed to hear. The fact that he felt the same way you did, that he was struggling just as much, brought a bittersweet sense of relief.

“Dean…”, you whispered, trying to find the right words, but they eluded you. Instead, you squeezed his hands, trying to convey everything you were feeling—your love, your hurt, your understanding—through that simple gesture.

Dean finally looked up, meeting your gaze, and the depth of emotion in his eyes made your breath catch. He looked like he was on the verge of breaking, the weight of his guilt and his feelings tearing him apart.

“I’m so sorry”, he said, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you”.

You shook your head, tears spilling over as you leaned in closer, your voice trembling as you replied, “You haven’t hurt me, Dean. Not like you think. I just… I just wish things were different”.

Dean’s expression softened, but the sadness in his eyes didn’t fade. “So do I”, he murmured, his voice barely audible. “But I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make this right”.

Your voice trembled as you fought to keep your emotions in check, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "I can learn, Dean. I can be what you need, the woman you need. I—". You were rambling, the desperation in your voice growing as you tried to find a way to convince him, to make him see that this could work, that you could be what he needed. But before you could finish, Dean gently placed a finger over your lips, silencing you with a soft, pained expression.

"Stop, (Y/N)", he whispered, his voice filled with a sorrow that mirrored your own. He removed his finger, replacing it with his hand, cradling your cheek tenderly as he looked into your eyes. "This isn’t about you not being enough. You are enough, more than enough. But this… it’s not something you can just learn or change for. It’s not something we can fix by pretending it’s different than it is".

His thumb gently brushed away a few tears, his touch achingly tender. "You deserve someone who can love you without all the complications, without all the baggage. Someone who can be there for you in every way without feeling like they’re crossing a line they shouldn’t. And as much as I… as much as I care about you, I can’t be that person".

His words were like a knife to your heart, but there was no anger in them, only regret and a deep, abiding sadness. He was trying to protect you, even if it meant breaking both of your hearts in the process.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, and you shook your head, not wanting to accept what he was saying. "But I don’t want someone else", you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion. "I want you, Dean. I’ve always wanted you".

Dean closed his eyes, his breath hitching as he absorbed the weight of your words. He wanted to pull you into his arms and never let go, to tell you that he wanted you just as badly. But he knew he couldn’t, knew that if he did, it would only make things harder for both of you in the long run.

When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with a mixture of love and resignation. "I know", he murmured, his voice hoarse. "And that’s what makes this so damn hard. But I can’t be what you need, and I can’t let you be with someone who isn’t right for you. You deserve better, (Y/N). You deserve more than what I can give you".

His words hung in the air, heavy and final. Dean’s hand lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before he slowly let it drop, the loss of his touch leaving you feeling cold and empty.

"I’m sorry", he whispered, the pain in his voice cutting through you like a knife. "I’m so sorry".

You could see the struggle in his eyes, the war he was fighting within himself. Every fiber of his being wanted to pull you close, to hold onto you and never let go. But he was forcing himself to walk away, to do what he believed was the right thing, even though it was tearing him apart inside.

As the reality of Dean’s words settled in, the weight of everything that had transpired between you became unbearable. The dam of emotions you had been holding back broke, and before you knew it, you were sobbing in front of him, your shoulders shaking with the force of your tears. It felt like your heart was shattering into a million pieces, the rawness of your pain spilling out uncontrollably.

Dean watched you, his own heart breaking at the sight. Every tear that fell from your eyes felt like a knife twisting in his chest. He wanted so desperately to reach out, to pull you into his arms and tell you that everything would be okay, that he would make it better somehow. But he knew that would be a lie, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you more by giving you false hope.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his entire body tense with the effort of holding himself back. It took everything in him to stay where he was, to keep himself from crossing that line again. He wanted you— he wanted you so badly it physically hurt. But he knew that wanting wasn’t enough. He had to be the grown-up here, the one to make the hard decision, even if it was killing him inside.

Dean took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay strong, to resist the overwhelming urge to pull you into his arms. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N)”, he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you like this”.

Your sobs only grew louder, the pain in your chest intensifying with every breath.

Dean stood there for a moment, his heart twisting painfully as he watched you break down in front of him. The urge to stay, to comfort you, was overwhelming, but he knew that staying any longer would only make things worse. He took a slow, steadying breath, trying to push back the emotions threatening to spill over. With a heavy heart, he finally rose to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, as if every step away from you was an immense effort.

He looked down at you, his chest tightening at the sight of your tear-streaked face and trembling form. The sound of your sobs, the way you were crumpled on the bed, broke something inside him. He wanted so desperately to erase the pain he had caused, but he knew that the only way to do that was to step back, to give you the space you needed to heal.

You looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. “How are we supposed to go back to how things were before?”.

Dean’s heart clenched at your words. He didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know how to go back, didn’t even know if it was possible. The connection between you had been irrevocably changed, and there was no denying it. But he also knew that you couldn’t move forward in the way you both might have wanted. It was a cruel paradox, one that left him feeling helpless and lost.

“I don’t know”, Dean admitted, his voice thick with sorrow. “I wish I did, but I don’t. I’m sorry, (Y/N). I’m so damn sorry”.

He wanted to say more, to offer some kind of reassurance, but the words failed him. All he could do was stand there, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought to keep himself from falling apart. Seeing you like this was tearing him up inside, but he knew that he couldn’t be the one to fix it, not this time.

Finally, he forced himself to move, to turn away from the heart-wrenching sight of you sitting there, broken and crying. Each step he took felt like a betrayal, like he was abandoning you in your time of need, but he knew that staying would only make things harder for both of you.

As he reached the door, he paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He looked back at you one last time, his eyes filled with a deep, aching regret. “I’ll always be here if you need me”, he said softly, his voice almost breaking. “But I think we both need some space right now”.

Without waiting for a response, he opened the door and stepped out, closing it quietly behind him. The sound of the door clicking shut was like a final nail in the coffin of whatever could have been, leaving you alone with your grief.

In the silence that followed, the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on you, and you felt more lost than ever.

Dean, on the other side of the door, leaned back against the wall, his hands covering his face as he tried to compose himself. The pain of leaving you like that, of knowing that he had shattered something so precious, was almost unbearable. But he knew that he had to be the strong one, had to be the one to step back and let you heal, no matter how much it hurt him.

Dean had left the same day, his departure abrupt and without much explanation. He told the others, even Sam, that he needed to help Cas and Jack with a situation back at the bunker, and while it wasn’t entirely a lie, it was also clear that he needed to put some distance between himself and what had happened in Montana. The weight of what he had done, the guilt and confusion, was too much for him to bear while staying close to you.

You, on the other hand, stayed behind in Montana for a few more days, trying to process everything that had happened. The pain of Dean leaving, of how things had ended between you, was still raw, but you were determined not to let it consume you. You had made a decision: when you saw Dean again, you would act as though nothing had happened. It was the only way you could think to protect yourself, to keep from feeling that kind of vulnerability again.

When you and Sam finally drove back to the bunker, the miles seemed to stretch on endlessly. The thought of seeing Dean again after over a week filled you with a mix of dread and nervous anticipation. You hadn’t spoken to him since he left, and the silence between you had only made the ache in your chest grow stronger. But you were resolved to stick to your plan—pretend that nothing had changed, that the night in Montana hadn’t happened. It was the only way you knew to keep yourself from falling apart.

As you pulled into the bunker’s garage, the familiar sight of the Impala parked inside sent a jolt through you. Dean was here. Your heart raced, your palms sweaty as you tried to calm yourself. Sam seemed oblivious to your inner turmoil, chatting casually about the drive and what you might find waiting for you inside. You forced yourself to respond, to act like everything was normal, even though your nerves were shot.

Stepping inside the bunker, you were greeted by the familiar sounds and smells of home. The faint scent of coffee from the kitchen, the low hum of the bunker’s systems—everything was as it should be, except for the knot of anxiety twisting in your stomach. You hadn’t seen Dean yet, and the anticipation was killing you.

“Hey, we’re back!”, Sam called out as he dropped his bag by the door, his voice echoing slightly in the large space.

A few moments later, you heard footsteps approaching, and then Dean appeared from around the corner. He looked much the same as when you last saw him, but there was a tightness in his expression, a guardedness that hadn’t been there before. His eyes flicked to you briefly, but then quickly shifted to Sam.

“Hey”, Dean greeted, his voice steady, but lacking the usual warmth. “How was the drive?”.

Sam shrugged, oblivious to the tension between you and Dean. “Long, but it’s good to be back. How are things here?”.

Dean gave a small nod. “Fine. Cas and Jack are in the library, still working on that creature situation”. His eyes darted to you for a split second before looking away again. “I’ll catch up with you later. Got some things to take care of”.

Without waiting for a response, Dean turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with Sam. The brief encounter had left you rattled, but you were determined to stick to your plan. You took a deep breath, pushing down the flood of emotions that threatened to surface.

Sam looked at you curiously, sensing something off. “You okay?”.

You forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, just tired. I think I’ll go unpack and get settled”.

Sam nodded, still watching you with a hint of concern, but he didn’t press the issue. You were grateful for that. As you headed to your room, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing, of wanting things to be different, but you steeled yourself. You had made a decision, and you were going to stick to it, no matter how much it hurt.

The days that followed were tense, filled with unspoken words and careful avoidance. You and Dean managed to stay out of each other’s way for the most part, both of you clearly trying to navigate the new, fragile dynamic that had formed. The others didn’t seem to notice, or if they did, they didn’t mention it, and you were grateful for the small mercy.

But each day that passed without resolving the tension between you only made the weight heavier, the pain more acute. You wanted so badly to talk to him, to clear the air, but the fear of being hurt again kept you silent. So you kept up the act, pretending that nothing had changed, even though every moment spent near him was a reminder of just how much it had.

It had been two long, agonizing months since that night in Montana, and in all that time, you and Dean hadn’t exchanged a single word. The tension between you had only grown more palpable, like a heavy weight pressing down on the bunker. Even Sam, who usually respected your space, had started to notice that something was off. His concerned glances and probing questions only made it harder to maintain the facade that everything was fine.

But you had managed, somehow, to keep your feelings at bay. You buried yourself in research, and anything that could keep your mind occupied and away from thoughts of Dean. The walls you had built around yourself were solid, but they didn’t stop the occasional pang of longing or the hollow ache that settled in your chest whenever you caught a glimpse of Dean from across the room.

You walked down the hallway with a sense of determination, each step feeling heavier as you approached the library. The summer dress you chose was light, airy, and made you feel like a version of yourself you hadn’t seen in a long time. It was a deliberate choice, a small act of defiance against the overwhelming tension that had suffocated you for weeks. In your hand, you carried a large bag, filled with everything you might need for an afternoon at the lake—towels, sunscreen, and a book you probably wouldn’t read. You just needed to get away, to clear your mind, and find some peace.

As you entered the library, you spotted Sam and Dean at the table, deep in research. Sam looked up as soon as you walked in, his eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. Dean, however, didn’t glance your way, his focus seemingly glued to the stack of papers in front of him. The sight of him sitting there, so close yet so unreachable, made your chest tighten, but you pushed the feeling down, determined not to let it show.

Without a word, you walked over to the table and sat down beside Sam, placing your bag on the floor beside you. The silence in the room was thick, almost suffocating.

Sam finally broke the silence, his voice gentle but probing. “Where are you headed?”, he asked, his tone casual but with an underlying concern that you could hear clearly.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m going to the lake”, you said, forcing a small smile. “I figured I’d go swimming, clear my head a bit”.

Sam’s brow furrowed slightly, his concern deepening. “By yourself?”.

You hesitated for just a second before answering, hoping it sounded casual enough. “No, I’m just waiting on Jack. He said he’d meet me here”.

Dean’s eyes flickered up for just a second when you mentioned Jack, but he remained silent, his expression unreadable as he quickly returned his focus to the papers in front of him. The brief moment of eye contact sent a jolt through you, but you pushed it aside, determined to stick to your plan.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. You could feel Sam’s gaze still on you, his concern palpable, but before you could say anything else, there was a sudden rush of air behind you, followed by a soft thud.

You jumped, startled, and turned around quickly to find Jack standing there, his expression a mix of excitement and mild confusion. He had clearly teleported in, something he was still getting used to, and it showed in the slightly disoriented look on his face.

“Hey!”, Jack said brightly, his voice cutting through the tension like a ray of sunshine. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you”.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and gave him a small smile. “No worries, Jack. Just wasn’t expecting that”.

Jack grinned, seemingly oblivious to the tension between you, Sam, and Dean. “I’m ready whenever you are”, he said, glancing at the bag by your side. “This should be fun”.

Sam gave Jack a warm smile, though his concern for you hadn’t entirely faded. “Take care of her, Jack”, he said, his tone half-joking but with an edge of seriousness.

Jack nodded earnestly. “I will”.

You stood up, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety. You hoped that some time at the lake would help clear your head, even if just for a little while.

You barely had time to finish your sentence—“Are we taking a car, or—”—before Jack grabbed your wrist with a smile. In the blink of an eye, the library of the bunker vanished, replaced by the serene, quiet bay of the lake. The sudden shift left you momentarily disoriented, the cool breeze and the scent of water filling your senses.

“Wow, that was fast”, you muttered, trying to steady yourself as you took in your new surroundings. The lake was calm, the water reflecting the sky’s soft hues, and the quiet was a welcome change from the tension that had gripped you for so long. It was exactly what you needed—a place to breathe, to think, without the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Jack looked pleased with himself, clearly happy to have gotten you here so quickly. “I thought you might want to skip the drive”, he said, grinning. “Plus, I think this spot is perfect. It’s quiet, away from everything”.

You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Yeah, it’s perfect. Thanks, Jack”.

Meanwhile, back in the bunker, Dean and Sam exchanged a glance as the last remnants of the teleportation shimmered away. Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of Dean’s expression—a mixture of concern and exasperation.

“Well”, Dean mumbled “now we’ve got two puppies running free out there”.

Sam’s chuckle turned into a full laugh. “Yeah, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Jack’s good company, and she could use a break”.

Dean grunted in response, but there was a tension in his posture that he couldn’t quite shake. He tried to focus on the papers in front of him, but his mind kept drifting back to you. The thought of you out there, trying to find some peace, only reminded him of how much he had failed to provide that for you. He didn’t want to admit it, but the idea of you being away from the bunker, possibly meeting new people, made his chest tighten with something that felt suspiciously like jealousy.

Sam noticed the way Dean’s shoulders tensed, the way he seemed more distracted than usual. “You know”, Sam said, his tone carefully neutral, “it’s okay to be worried. But Jack’s not going to let anything happen to her”.

Dean looked up at Sam, his green eyes hard but reflective. “I know”, he muttered, his voice gruff.

Sam could sense the shift in Dean’s demeanor, the way his brother’s usual calm and focused exterior had been replaced with something more restless, something troubled. It wasn’t like Dean to be so distracted, especially not when it came to hunting or research. But ever since the trip to Montana, Sam had noticed a growing tension between you and Dean, a tension that had only seemed to deepen as the weeks went by.

Sam didn’t want to push too hard—he knew Dean well enough to understand that prying would only make him shut down further—but he also couldn’t just ignore the elephant in the room. He waited for the right moment, letting the silence stretch between them as Dean pretended to focus on the papers in front of him. But Sam knew better; Dean hadn’t turned a page in nearly ten minutes.

Finally, after a long stretch of silence, Sam looked over at his brother, his voice gentle but probing. “Dean… what happened between you two?”.

Dean’s jaw tightened at the question, his eyes narrowing slightly as he continued to stare down at the papers. For a moment, Sam thought he might not answer, that he’d brush it off like he usually did when things got too personal. But then Dean let out a long, slow breath, and Sam could see the tension in his shoulders ease, just a little.

Dean didn’t look up, his voice low and rough when he finally spoke. “I messed up, Sammy”. he admitted, the weight of those words heavy with regret.

Sam’s brow furrowed in concern. “What do you mean? Did something happen between you two?”.

Dean finally looked up, meeting Sam’s gaze for the first time. The guilt and frustration in his eyes were clear, and it made Sam’s heart ache for him. Dean had always been hard on himself, always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but this was different. This was personal, something that had cut him deeper than any hunt ever could.

“Yeah, something happened”, Dean admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ve been trying to fix it ever since, but… I don’t know if I can”.

Sam could sense the weight of what Dean was about to say, the way his brother’s voice trembled slightly with the admission. It was rare to see Dean this vulnerable, this unsure of himself, and it made Sam feel a deep sense of concern. He knew that whatever had happened between you two had shaken Dean to his core, and the fact that Dean was willing to talk about it, even a little, meant that it was eating him up inside.

Sam hesitated, not wanting to push too hard but also needing to understand the full extent of what had happened. He needed to know how bad things were, if there was any way to help Dean navigate through this mess. He leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but insistent as he pressed further.

“Dean”, Sam began cautiously, his heart pounding a little faster. “Did you… you know, did you guys…?”. He didn’t finish the sentence, letting the question hang in the air. Sam didn’t need to say the words; the meaning was clear enough.

Dean sighed heavily, the sound filled with exhaustion and frustration. He rubbed his temple, as if trying to ward off a headache or push away the memories that were clearly haunting him. The weight of the situation was evident in every line of his face, and the admission he was about to make seemed to take an enormous amount of effort.

“No, I didn’t sleep with her”, he mumbled, his voice strained and filled with regret. There was a noticeable relief in his tone, but it was overshadowed by the lingering weight of everything else that had transpired.

Sam’s brows furrowed in concern, sensing that there was more to the story. “But?”, he prompted gently, leaning in slightly as he tried to understand what was eating away at his brother.

Dean hesitated, his eyes darting away from Sam’s gaze. He seemed to be struggling with how to put his thoughts into words, how to explain the situation without diving too deep into the pain and confusion he was feeling.

“But… I let things get out of control”, Dean finally admitted, his voice thick with guilt.

Dean’s breath hitched as he tried to find the right words, his voice wavering slightly with the weight of what he was about to confess. “We kissed, Sam”, he admitted, his tone heavy with regret. “Not just once, but twice. And… the second time… it was different”.

Sam’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, sensing that Dean needed to get this off his chest. He could see the turmoil in his brother’s eyes, the way Dean was struggling to articulate what had happened, and it made his own heart ache for him.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, the frustration and guilt evident in every line of his face. “The second time, it wasn’t just a kiss. I mean, it started that way, but then… then it went further. She was… I didn’t even touched her much.. but… she… came. Right there in my arms, just from… just from the way we were together”.

Dean’s voice cracked as he spoke, the memory of that night clearly haunting him. The intensity of the moment, the way your body had responded to his, had shaken him to his core. It was something he hadn’t expected, something that had left him reeling in its aftermath.

Sam’s expression softened, a mix of surprise and concern washing over him as he processed what Dean was saying. He knew how much Dean cared about you, how deeply those feelings ran, but hearing the raw honesty in his brother’s voice made it clear just how complicated things had become.

“Dean…”, Sam began, his voice gentle, not quite sure how to respond. He could see the guilt eating away at Dean, the way he was blaming himself for something that was clearly more complicated than he was letting on. “It sounds like… it wasn’t just you. She felt something too, right? This wasn’t just you losing control”.

Dean shook his head, his eyes filled with a deep sense of self-reproach. “I should’ve stopped it, Sam. I should’ve pulled away, kept things from getting that far. But I didn’t, and now everything’s fucked up. She’s… she’s like family to us. She’s like my little sister, and she trusts me. And I… I betrayed that trust”.

Sam sighed deeply, feeling the weight of Dean’s words settle between them like a heavy cloud. He could see just how much this was tearing his brother apart, the guilt and self-reproach so evident in Dean’s expression. Sam knew that Dean had always put the needs of others before his own, often to his detriment. But this time, it was different. This time, the lines between right and wrong, between protector and partner, had blurred in a way that neither of them had anticipated.

“Dean, listen”, Sam started, his tone firm yet compassionate. “You didn’t betray her trust. If anything, you both were caught in a moment where emotions were running high. She’s not a kid anymore. She’s an adult, and she has her own feelings about this, too. You can’t shoulder all the blame”.

Dean shook his head, the guilt still gnawing at him. “I get what you’re saying, Sam, but it’s not that simple. She’s family. I’ve watched her grow up, and I’ve always tried to protect her. I crossed a line, and now I don’t know how to make things right”.

Sam leaned back in his chair, considering his next words carefully. He knew that Dean was struggling with more than just guilt—there was a deep-rooted fear of losing the bond that you all shared, a fear that the damage might be irreparable.

“You didn’t do this alone, Dean”, Sam said gently. “She was there with you, and she made her choices, too. The fact that… she responded the way she did means something. It means that this is more complicated than just a mistake. It means that there are feelings involved, real ones, and you can’t just pretend they don’t exist”.

Dean rubbed his temples, the frustration evident on his face. “But what am I supposed to do, Sam? If I go down this road, I risk ruining everything. And if I don’t… I don’t know if I can live with that either”.

“I can’t tell you what to do, Dean. But I think you need to talk to her, really talk to her. You need to figure out where you both stand and what you want. This isn’t something you can just ignore and hope it goes away”.

Dean shook his head, his frustration and self-loathing bubbling to the surface as he tried to make sense of the turmoil inside him. “Sam, I already talked to her”, he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. “I told her I’m too old for her, that she deserves someone better. But… damn it, Sammy, she’s 18! I feel like a fucking pedo! I don’t even know why the hell I feel something like this for her”.

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his guilt and confusion. Dean ran a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck as if he could squeeze the thoughts out of his mind. He was a man used to fighting monsters, to facing down the worst the world had to offer, but this—this war within himself—was something he didn’t know how to fight.

Sam could see the torment in Dean’s eyes, the way his brother was battling against feelings that he didn’t fully understand. It pained Sam to see Dean like this, torn apart by emotions that were so much more complex than any hunt they’d ever been on. He knew Dean’s instinct was to protect, to shield others from harm, and now Dean was stuck in a situation where he saw himself as the danger.

“Dean”, Sam said softly, trying to ground his brother, “You’re not a monster. You’re not a predator. You’re a human being, and you’re allowed to have feelings, even if they’re complicated. The fact that you’re struggling with this so much shows that you’re not the person you’re afraid of becoming”.

Dean’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with anger—mostly at himself. “It’s not right, Sam. It doesn’t matter how much I try to justify it, it’s just not right. I’m supposed to be there for her like a brother, and I crossed that line”.

Sam sighed, leaning back slightly in his chair as he tried to figure out the best way to approach this. He knew how deeply Dean cared, how he always took on more than his share of guilt and responsibility. But Sam also knew that sometimes, Dean’s sense of duty could blind him to the reality of a situation.

“I get it, Dean”, Sam said, his voice steady but understanding. “It’s messy, and I know it feels wrong to you. But honestly? I don’t see such a huge problem here”.

Dean looked up at him, a mix of surprise and frustration in his eyes. “How can you say that, Sam? I’m supposed to protect her, not… not get involved with her”.

“I know”, Sam replied quickly, not wanting to dismiss Dean’s concerns. “But think about it—she’s not a kid anymore. She’s 18, and she’s been through a lot. She’s capable of making her own decisions, and she obviously cares about you too”.

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Sam pressed on.

“Look, I’m not saying it’s simple or easy. It’s not. But the fact that you’re so torn up about this shows that you care about her in the right way. You’re not trying to take advantage of her, and she’s not some helpless kid who doesn’t know what she wants”.

Dean ran a hand over his face, his frustration evident as he tried to articulate the fears that had been gnawing at him. “What if she’s just confused, Sam?”, he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of worry and resignation. “What if she doesn’t really know what she wants? Maybe she’s just… mixing up her feelings. I mean, how do we know if she likes me for being, well, a man, or if it’s just because I’ve been there for her when no one else was?”.

Sam could see the deep concern in Dean’s eyes, the way he was grappling with the idea that you might not truly know your own feelings. It was clear that Dean was scared—scared of hurting you, scared of taking advantage of what might be misplaced affection, scared of making a mistake that could affect you both for the rest of your lives.

“I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit. She’s been through a lot, yeah, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know her own mind. You’re not just some guy who showed up in her life—you’ve been there for her, through everything. And I think she’s old enough, mature enough, to know the difference between gratitude and real feelings”.

Dean looked at Sam, uncertainty still clouding his expression. “But how can I be sure, Sam? What if she’s just… what if she’s confused and later realizes she doesn’t feel that way? Then what? I’ve crossed a line that I can’t uncross”.

Sam sighed, understanding the depth of Dean’s dilemma. He knew that Dean wasn’t just afraid of making a mistake—he was terrified of losing the bond you both shared, of damaging something that had been so important to both of you for so long.

“Dean, you’re right to be cautious”, Sam acknowledged. “But you also have to trust her. Trust that she knows what she wants, and trust yourself enough to believe that you’re not manipulating her feelings. You’ve always treated her with respect, and that hasn’t changed. Just… talk to her. See where her head’s at. Don’t assume the worst”.

Dean nodded slowly, though the worry in his eyes didn’t fully dissipate. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up, Sam. I don’t want to hurt her more than I already did”.

“And that’s why you won’t”, Sam said firmly. “Because you care enough to be worried about it. You’re not rushing into anything, and you’re trying to do the right thing. Just take it one step at a time, and be honest with her—and yourself—about how you’re feeling”.

Sam held his brother’s gaze, his expression softening with a mix of empathy and understanding. “Dean”, he continued quietly, “don’t you think I knew how you felt about her? I’m your brother. I see things. And honestly, I just hoped you would at least wait until she turned 18. But deep down, I knew that day would come. I saw the way you looked at her, the way you watched out for her. She’s always been more mature than other girls her age”.

Dean blinked, his mind reeling. He had always prided himself on being the one who kept things together, who looked out for everyone else without revealing too much of what was going on inside his own head. But Sam had seen right through him, had known what he was feeling even before Dean had fully admitted it to himself.

He ran a hand through his hair again, a nervous habit that betrayed just how out of his depth he felt. “You knew?”, he asked, his voice thick with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”.

Sam offered a small, rueful smile. “What could I have said? ‘Hey Dean, I know you’re falling for her, but maybe pump the brakes until she’s older’? It’s not like I could’ve stopped you from feeling what you felt. And honestly, I didn’t want to make things harder for you. I figured… I don’t know, maybe it would just work itself out”.

Dean swallowed hard, his throat feeling tight. The fact that Sam had seen it all along made him feel both exposed and oddly relieved.

Dean felt his stomach twist at Sam’s words. The idea that his brother had seen through him, had watched as his feelings for you evolved over the last few months, made him feel exposed in a way that was deeply uncomfortable. He had always tried to keep those emotions under wraps, burying them deep where they couldn’t cause any harm. But hearing Sam describe it so plainly made it all too real.

Sam sighed, his expression serious yet compassionate as he continued. “Dean, I saw the way your feelings changed over the years. It wasn’t just something that happened overnight. She grew older, and your gazes… they grew different. I noticed the shift, especially on her 17th birthday”.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat. That day had been burned into his memory—how you had walked into the room, looking more like a woman than the little girl he’d known for so long. It was a moment he’d tried to dismiss, to convince himself that it didn’t mean anything, but deep down, he knew it was a turning point. And apparently, Sam had seen it too.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first”, Sam admitted, his voice softening. “I thought maybe it was just a phase or something that would pass. But it didn’t. You started looking at her differently, and it wasn’t just the way you looked at her, Dean. It was the way you acted around her, the way you tried to distance yourself even though it was clear you didn’t want to”.

Dean flinched slightly at Sam’s words, his guilt deepening as he listened to his brother’s observations. The truth, spoken aloud, was like a punch to the gut. He had always tried to maintain some distance, to keep things from crossing a line, but it seemed that in doing so, he had only made his feelings more obvious—to both Sam and himself.

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at Dean, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of them. “And it wasn’t just you, Dean”, Sam continued, his voice tinged with frustration and concern. “At first, I thought she just had a little crush on you, like most teenage girls do. I figured it was harmless, something she’d grow out of, you know?”.

Dean’s jaw tightened as Sam’s words hit home. The thought that you might have been struggling with your own feelings for just as long as he had only made the situation more complicated. It wasn’t just about him anymore; it was about you too, and how you had been dealing with emotions that were just as confusing and overwhelming as his own.

Sam shook his head slightly, as if trying to make sense of it all. “But then, she didn’t grow out of it. She grew into it. And I could see that it wasn’t just a crush anymore. It was… more. And honestly, it scared me, because I knew how much she looked up to you, how much she depended on you. I was worried that… that it would get too complicated, that someone would end up hurt”.

Dean’s knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists, his mind spinning with the implications of Sam’s words. He had always been the protector, the one who kept a clear boundary between what was right and wrong. But now, that boundary was so blurred that he could barely see it, and the idea that you had been going through something similar made his chest tighten with guilt.

Sam noticed Dean’s struggle and sighed deeply. He knew how much his brother was beating himself up over this, but he also knew that Dean was stuck in a mindset that wasn’t helping anyone—least of all you.

“Dean”, Sam started, his voice softening as he tried to reason with his brother, “this isn’t the 80s anymore. People are a lot more open about relationships with age gaps. It’s not like you have some sick fetish or something. Yeah, the situation isn’t ideal, but when is anything in our lives ideal? We’ve never exactly had a ‘normal’ existence”.

Dean let out a bitter laugh, his eyes filled with frustration. “Yeah, well, it sure as hell doesn’t feel right. I’m supposed to be the one looking out for her, not… not making things more complicated”.

Sam nodded, understanding where Dean was coming from, but he didn’t relent. “I get that, I really do. But what’s the alternative here, Dean? Ignore how you feel? Pretend that none of this is real and hope it goes away? Because from what I can see, that’s not working. If anything, it’s making things worse”.

Dean rubbed his face, his eyes staring into the distance as if the answers to his internal conflict might be found somewhere in the shadows of the room.

When he finally looked back at Sam, there was a raw vulnerability in his eyes that Sam hadn’t seen in a long time. Dean struggled to find the right words, to express the deep-seated fears that had been gnawing at him ever since that night in Montana.

“She’s still a virgin, Sam”, Dean said, his voice low, almost as if he was ashamed to admit it. “If… if something happened between us, I’d be her first. In everything. And I don’t want that for her. I don’t want to be the guy who takes all those firsts from her. She deserves to have those experiences with someone her age, someone who isn’t… messed up like I am”.

Sam listened carefully, his expression softening as he took in what Dean was saying. He knew his brother well enough to understand the layers of guilt and responsibility that Dean was grappling with. But he also knew how fiercely protective Dean could be, how possessive he was when it came to the people he cared about.

“You think she’d be better off with some guy her age?”, Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t challenging Dean, but he wanted to make sure his brother really thought about what he was saying. “Some guy who doesn’t know her the way you do, who hasn’t been through what we’ve been through? Dean, you know as well as I do that most people out there can’t even begin to understand the life we live. Do you really think she’s going to find someone who gets her like you do?”.

Dean’s jaw tightened, and he looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them as if he could squeeze the confusion out of his mind. “I just… I don’t want to mess her up, Sam. She’s been through enough already, and if I’m the one who… who takes those firsts, I don’t know if I can live with that. What if she regrets it? What if she decides later that she made a mistake?”.

Sam sighed heavily as he got up from his chair, the weight of the conversation pressing down on both of them. He made his way over to Dean’s stash of whiskey, knowing that his brother could use something to take the edge off the turmoil he was clearly feeling. Sam grabbed the bottle, poured two generous glasses, and then returned to his seat, handing one to Dean without a word.

Dean accepted the glass with a nod of thanks, but his eyes were still distant, lost in the maze of his thoughts. He took a sip, the familiar burn of the whiskey grounding him just a little, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the guilt gnawing at his insides.

Sam took a long sip from his own glass before setting it down on the table with a soft clink. He looked at Dean, his expression serious but filled with understanding. “I’m not gonna keep saying this, Dean, but you need to hear it: she’s an adult. She’s not some kid who doesn’t know what she wants”.

Dean’s grip tightened on his glass, the tension in his shoulders still evident. “I know she’s an adult, Sam. But I’ve known her since she was a kid. That’s the problem. How can I just forget that?”.

Sam leaned forward, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re not supposed to forget it. But you also can’t let it be the only thing that defines her. She’s grown up, Dean. And yeah, she’s been through a lot, but so have you. That doesn’t mean she’s broken or that she doesn’t know what she wants. If she’s choosing you, it’s because she sees something in you that she values, something that she wants”.

Dean’s jaw clenched, and he took another sip of whiskey, letting the words sink in. He knew Sam was right—on some level, he understood that you were capable of making your own choices. But the fear of hurting you, of crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, was almost paralyzing.

“Dean, I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit. She’s not looking for normal—she’s looking for something real, something that she can hold on to in this crazy life we live. And maybe she’s found that in you. You can’t keep punishing yourself for having feelings, man. You’re allowed to be happy too, you know”.

Dean was silent for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the amber liquid in his glass. The idea of happiness felt foreign to him, like something that had always been just out of reach. He had spent so much of his life putting others first, protecting them, sacrificing for them, that he didn’t know how to even consider the possibility of having something good for himself.

“I care about her too much to hurt her”.

“And that’s exactly why you won’t”, Sam said, his tone full of conviction. “Because you care about her, because you’re thinking about what’s best for her. That’s what makes you different, Dean. You’re not going to hurt her because you’re already trying so hard not to. But you have to stop holding yourself back out of fear. Talk to her, be honest with her, and let her be honest with you. You both deserve that”.

Dean looked up at Sam, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he processed his brother’s words. Sam’s suggestion caught him off guard, but he couldn’t deny the truth in it. They had been dancing around this issue for too long, and Sam was right—something had to give.

“You know what?”, Sam said, setting his empty glass down with a decisive thud. “I’m going out tonight”. His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. “I’m giving you and her the bunker to yourselves. When I get back, you two better have talked, Dean”.

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam cut him off with a raised hand. “Don’t try to weasel out of this. You’re the older one, right? Act like it. Be the grown-up here and talk to her. She deserves to know what you’re thinking, and you deserve to know what she’s feeling too”.

“You make it sound so easy”, Dean muttered, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of fear.

Sam gave him a sympathetic look but didn’t back down. “I know it’s not easy, Dean. But it’s necessary. You can’t keep avoiding this. If you don’t talk to her, it’s just going to keep eating at both of you. And honestly, I think you’ll both be better off once everything is out in the open”.

Dean nodded slowly, knowing deep down that Sam was right. He had been avoiding this for too long, letting his fear and guilt control his actions. But it was time to face the truth, no matter how difficult it might be.

“Alright”, Dean finally said, his voice resigned but determined. “I’ll talk to her”.

Sam smiled, relieved to see his brother finally accepting what needed to be done. “Good".

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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Part 11

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[ponderingmoonlight]

Quote and character request. Levi Ackerman. "You don't have to love everything about me; that means you're actually looking at me"

Beneath the Armor

Pairing: Levi x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,2k

Synopsis: You searches everywhere for Levi Ackerman. But when you finally find him, he acts cold as eyes, doesn't even want to talk to you. Word after word his true intentions reveal...

Warnings: Levi is very self conscious in this fic due to how the war left him - if that's too negative for you or simly not your style keep on scrolling. Hurt to comfort, fluff fluff fluff

The room is tense, thick with the lingering echoes of your argument. You can’t believe it. You traveled for what felt like ages, turned the whole planet upside down in order to finally see that man again. And him? He avoids you at all cost, ignores you while you’re standing right in front of him.

You clench your fist, gleaming eyes staring at him through the thick silence. All of that, after you spent one night together, after you finally started trusted another human being fully.

The air feels heavy, each of you standing on opposite sides of a dark hallway that only seems to widen with every passing second.

Levi’s clenches his jaw, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes, normally so calculating and composed, flash with a rare anger. It’s not often that you two fight like this. But when you do, it feels like the world is tilting off its axis. You’re both too used to being strong, too used to being in control. And now, that strength is clashing, neither of you willing to yield.

Can’t you understand that he did all of this to protect you?

“You don’t get it,” you spit at him, voice trembling with frustration.

“You shut me out, Levi. You push me away every time I try to get close. And that after I searched the whole fucking world for you.”

He doesn’t immediately respond, his silence only adding to the tension. When he finally speaks up, his voice is low, almost dangerous, like the calm before a storm.

“And maybe you’re better off that way. Maybe it’s easier if you don’t get too close.”

The words sting like a flat-palmed slap, causing your heart to tighten in your chest. It’s as if he’s trying to push you away on purpose, as if he’s testing to see how far he can go before you finally give up. But you’re not ready to let him off that easily. Not when you spent weeks trying to find him over here.

“Why?” you demand, taking a step closer, your voice rising with emotion.

“Why do you keep pushing me away? What are you so afraid of?”

Levi’s eyes flash again, but this time, there’s something else there - something darker, more vulnerable. He turns away from you, as if he can’t bear to face you head-on, his shoulders tense and rigid.

“I’m not afraid,” he mutters, but there’s a crack in his voice that betrays him.

“Then what is it?” you press out, not willing to let this go.

“Why do you keep trying to make me hate you? Why are you running away from me?”

He spins back to face you, his expression torn between anger and something else, something raw, something painful.

“Because if you don’t hate me, you’ll see me for what I really am,” he says, his voice rough with emotion.

“And I don’t know if I can handle that.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of his confession. Who he really is? You eye him up and down, take in his blind eye, his missing fingers, his overall worn-out figure. Is he really talking about how this war changed his appearance? No, he can’t believe you’re that superficial, right? Did he really push you away because he thought you’d stop loving him now? For a moment, you’re both silent.

“You believe I don’t love you anymore”, you finally speak up.

“I can’t believe you think that-“

“You don’t have to love everything about me,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a softness to his tone now, a tenderness that wasn’t there before as well as a new-found fragility. His hand reaches out, hesitant at first, before resting on your arm.

“That means you’re actually looking at me. Seeing me for who I really am. But I understand that…You might not want me anymore.”

You feel like giggling and breaking down at the same time. Why would that man ever think that he isn’t good enough for you anymore, that you’d throw him away like trash? But he’s letting his guard down, exposing a side of himself that he rarely shows, a side that’s scared and unsure, but also hopeful. Hopeful that maybe, just maybe, you’ll see him and still choose to stay.

“I’m not perfect,” he continues, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I’ve done things… things I’m not proud of. I look even worse than I did back then. And I don’t expect you to love me. I just want you to know that I’m trying. Trying to be better, trying to be the man I was before, for you. I just…can’t change that shitty body.”

His hand moves from your arm to your cheek, his touch gentle, almost reverent. But still, he doesn’t dare to look you in the eyes, his voice still muted and covered in agony.

Is this the reason why he never tried to reach you, never tried to find you? Because he thought you’d never look at him again the way you did before all of this? Humanity’s strongest losing his whole confidence over something so minor, something that actually makes you admire him even more.

His thumb brushes over your skin, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“I want you to stay. But if you can’t love me like that, I’ll leave right away” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

His words hang between you, raw and unfiltered. That lack of self-esteem, all the horrible things he had to endure while you were gone. What did he see? What did he feel? With each passing minute, your heart swells up more and more. For that man who risked everything including his precious life for a world you’d be safe in. For that man who know stands in front of you and thinks he isn’t good enough for you.

“I see you, Levi,” you say softly, your voice trembling with the weight of your own emotions.

“I see you, and I’m not going anywhere. Those scars,”

Gently, you allow your finger to wander over the faint scar that covers the skin around his blinded eye.

“Those hands that hold my entire world,”

You take his hand in yours tenderly.

“Do you really think I’ll leave you over something like this when I searched the world upside down just to see you again?”

A flicker of relief passes through his eyes, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Levi allows himself to hope. And for the first time since he can think, he’s glad to see your tears paired with that loving look in your eyes. Will you really…stay with him?

“Please don’t push me away. I still need you in my life”, you mutter before lunging yourself at him.

Like countless times before, you rest your head against his shoulder, wrap your arms around him in fear that you’ll lose him any given minute. That precious but stoic man who drove you insane more than once, that man who never failed to argue with you.

That man, humanity’s strongest. The love of your life.

“Fine, brat”, he grumbles before stroking through your hair.

“But I’ll leave if you make fun of me.”

“I’ll always make fun of you half-pint.”

Tags:

@lees-chaotic-brain @sanicsmut @levislegislation @istglevi-gotmesimping

[yiminsuu]

Please, Stay

Pairing: MK1 Syzoth/Reptile x F!Reader

Warnings: Sexual themes (+18), breeding, two cocks, angst and fluff, self-esteem issues, jealousy, friends to lovers, mentions of violence.

Author’s Note: Did I buy a ps5 just to play MK1? You bet. He needs all the loving in the galaxy and we'll give it to him no matter how much it costs! Please the way his family was taken from him was just so cruel, baby boy didn't deserve it...

Shattering noises reached my eardrums as I stepped into the kitchen of the academy, watching Syzoth sigh in desperation while his emerald eyes stared at the broken cup on the ground. I felt my heart breaking at his lost expression, yet I ceased all desire to touch him and walked away as silently as I could.

Since meeting Liu Kang and the others my seemingly normal life took a toll, transforming me into a 24/7 killing machine with 0 possibility of my enemies ever escaping Kombat. According to the Fire God, I always had this in my blood, now I just have to balance it… I just didn't expect that coming to a different realm and being incarcerated by a maddened sorcerer was the way to do so. That's where we met him, that's where we crossed eyes, that's where I fell enchanted by him.

Perhaps it was the anxiety of meeting someone new, or maybe I wanted to punch someone for the horrible things done to the people of Outworld, but there was no way of knowing I was attracted to what Baraka called a 'Zaterran', at least not at the time. Seeing Syzoth in his real form was surprising because I had never seen his kind, but the reptilian didn't know this, and in the beginning, I was sure he hated me to the core. He kept a certain distance from me unless I engaged against someone, he had my defense just like I had his, I didn't think much about it to be honest, I was sure he wanted to stay on the good side of the rest.

So when I spoke with Ashrah about our teammates in the gardens at tea time, she made it clear that she wanted me to talk more about Syzoth, indicating how protective he was over me when our battle against Quan Chi and Ermac took place, or when Li Mei chased after me when I made a mistake. I mean… I am practically a child compared to them, I found it normal that even Johnny would aid me at all times. I did notice their growing friendship as time passed, I was happy Syzoth could grieve his family in peace, and that he can have a joyful life from now on, yet after so much I don't think he's comfortable with me, don't think he'll ever be.

"Sometimes, people need to reflect on their past to come to peace with their mistakes."

"Thanks Ashrah, not undermining your achievements, but just because you did it doesn't mean others can do it as easily."

"Then why not come with me and Syzoth to Outworld? We will have a chance to speak our minds while we have dinner."

I declined, didn't feel like being the third wheel.

Realizing I was jealous was quite easy, but I swallowed it down, it's normal for me to get my hopes up to then be crushed mentally and emotionally. I was in silent rage, and I almost broke Raiden's skull in a friendly kombat so I decided to retreat to my accommodations with Liu Kang's permission who, weirdly, didn't stop smiling at me as I left. Following my encounter with Syzoth, I sprinted to my room and screamed into the pillow with genuine self-hatred for not asking if he was okay, and with regret in my mind, I drifted off to sleep.

Subsequently, waking up in the middle of the night to knocks on my door scared me, I thought there was some sort of emergency and I hurriedly opened the door to freeze immediately at the sight of the reptilian, he looked stunned at the speed in which I answered that he visibly gulped. "Syzoth, hey… I-Is something wrong?" Don't take me wrong, I did try to have conversations with him plenty of times, but he either avoided or ignored me, so I just gave up. "Do we have an emergency?"

I jumped in place when he changed into his reptile form, speechless at the action, we stared at each other in silence until his human form came back with a deep exhale. Even then, Syzoth refrained from saying a word for a good minute and turned to walk away before stopping and muttering something under his breath, cursing slightly. "Can I-- Can I come in…?" He questioned loud enough. With a furrowed eyebrow and with a growing heartbeat, I let him into my room and closed the door gently, once I glanced at Syzoth, his back was turned to my figure, and his head hanging low.

I cleared my throat, getting his attention, but he wouldn't budge from his position. "Did something happen? Is Johnny bothering you with the whole movie thing?" It's 3 a.m. but I'm sure Cage is still awake doing whatever an actor does in hopes his movie would be a success. "I can speak with him." I finished. Frowning at the lack of answer, I crossed my arms and my anger built up fast in my body. "Look, if you only woke me up to stand silent in the corner of my room you might as well leave, we'll speak in the--"

"Do you hate me?" I shut my mouth and widened my eyes at him.

Hate him? How could I? He's saved me more times than I could count. "Why… Why would--"

"I've seen how you watch me, how everyone watches me." There was so much sadness in his normally soft voice, his beautiful eyes staring into my own with every emotion he could find. "Do I look that monstrous, (Y/N)? Do I look so hideous you can barely withstand me to be in your company? You turn away every time I try to be with you in the same room, is it because of my true form…? Do I scare you? Or is this human skin just as mundane for you?" Syzoth transformed into his Zaterran form again. "Will I receive hate from you no matter what sort of shape I possess?"

Nothing came out of my lips, mostly because of the shock from his unexpected outburst, Syzoth looked away and took a few steps back from me, his whole demeanor changing into one of desolation. The room got darker when the moon hid behind clouds as if to make the reptilian a cruel favor. "Syzoth…" I called but got interrupted.

"Someone like you will never see me as an equal, and I should have known, but you… Looked so innocent in that cell that I couldn't resist securing you from harm. I beg of you, forgive me if I intimidated you as far as not accepting a dinner invitation, I want you to know you are the last person I ever want to hurt in any way. I'll stay away, just… Don't look at me with those eyes, the eyes of someone frightened, not you…"

Without thinking, I placed my hands on his reptile cheeks, his pupils dilating under my touch, he felt cold but I didn't let that bother me, there's nothing about him that could bother me. "I don't hate you, okay? And I'm not scared." I uttered to him, and in a flash, his human shape graced me, staring down at me with a glow in his eyes I'd never seen before. "But, you were--"

"Syzoth, you are the kindest soul I've met, you did everything you could to protect your family, you helped us defeat Shang Tsung and saved our lives countless times. Besides, I couldn't care less about your appearance, you are so handsome, soft-spoken, and courageous." I pursed my lips as I saw something shift in the way he looked at me, maybe I should've said something more worthy of being seen as his friend instead of stating the obvious, I have a crush-- No, I am full in love with him. I felt as if the world was torturing me all this time, and I failed to see I was the one torturing him with my avoidance of solving my own problems. "You mean it…? All of it?" Syzoth's hands rested on mine, his body slightly closer to touch mine.

"I do. I was surprised the first time I saw your true form, I'm not gonna lie, but I've grown accustomed to Outworld's unique beauty… What I did not like, on the other hand, was being called 'freakish'." I smiled brightly when he chuckled, the tension between us quickly evaporated, but I knew something changed. "I am sorry, you are anything but freakish." He paused, and my cheeks grew hotter as my hands were held by calloused ones. I gathered the little braveness I had and spoke. "I actually thought you hated me, you observed and followed after me everywhere, I was sure you wanted to kill me at some point."

"Oh, I didn't mean--" With the light of the moon, I saw his expression turn into a nervous one. "No! (Y/N), have you seen yourself in a mirror? You look so lovely, so breedable…"

Both of us stopped to process what the reptilian said.

Syzoth covered half of his face with his hood while I stood in place, screaming internally. "Fuck… I didn't want it to come out like that, I wanted to take you out first." I was thrilled at the thought of him having me how he desired, so I shut my mind from judgment and gulped down my anxiety, and kissed his cheek. He gazed at me with widened eyes, letting go of his hood and leaning closer to me, pecking my lips experimentally, so delicately as if I was going to break in his arms. I felt hot at the sensation of being wanted, and kind of ashamed for judging his relationship with Ashrah.

The Zaterran halted all movement to gaze at me. "I need your mind right here, baby. Please." I almost whined when he pulled me to him, kissing him as our clothing came off and sitting on his lap while he moved his head down towards my stomach and pressed open-mouthed kisses against my skin. "Your mouth feels good…" When I looked into his eyes, which were already staring back at me, I felt myself relax, his eyes were so soft and held so much love, that I felt like my heart was going to burst at the sight. Syzoth pressed his lips against my breast, squeezing the flesh of my thigh, enjoying how I shivered underneath his fingertips. I gasped when he bit my chest, breath hitching when he snapped away my underwear, inhaling my body as if it was the sweetest flower he found.

I kissed his forehead and embraced him by the neck, receiving a groan from him promptly. My breathing was turning heavy as his hands traveled from my thighs to my buttocks, pressing me against his clothed manhood. "W-Was that dinner supposed to be a setup?"

"Yeah… Truth be told, if you had gone I would have bent you over right then and there." Dammit Ashrah, you should've given me a hint. I shoved away the thought of her and planted a kiss on his neck, a breathless 'more' left his lips, sliding his remaining wear down and I gave out a wail when I felt two hard cocks on my behind. "Syzoth, you--"

"You don't have to take both, it's fine. I know this isn't something humans see every day…" He's going to be the dead of me, and the worst thing is, he knows about this by the expression he's wearing now. A soft mewl echoed in the room when one of his cocks brushed against my hole, he almost salivated at the sight of our bodies prepared to join together. "I promise I'll make you feel good, extremely good." Syzoth smirked as he laid on my bed, his thumb playing with my clit as his tip kept teasing my entrance, choked moans leaving my mouth and my fingers went to grab his short hair.

I let out a desperate whine when he suddenly entered me, my lips shaping an O as his finger abused my clit. "Syzoth…! F-Fuuck!" The sound of my wetness made me feel so self-conscious, but the way he looked so lost in pleasure excited me to no end. He retreated his finger when I arched my back, my walls clenching around his still-entering cock. "So warm… So perfect…" His piercing, green eyes kept eating at the scene, and his lips let out a sound of thrill for being able to be completely inside me, pushing my body against his as I shook above him, the moan that left me was unholy.

"Yes, yes, shit…" I heard him utter nonstop, his tail appearing to grasp around my thigh.

"Y-You’re stunning…" I told him, and the reptilian groaned deeply at my words, sitting once more and kissing me hungrily as he began moving. Syzoth bit my shoulder and spread my legs further apart so he could thrust deeper, he smiled weakly against my trembling skin, hugging me tightly as he felt his other cock rubbing against my asscheeks. I pushed his torso into mine, tears brimming in my eyes and both moaning between kisses. "Just like that, pretty… Take me all in…" I managed to nod, pulling Syzoth into another kiss as my legs wrapped around his torso. I was becoming desperate, the feeling of his cock stretching me out felt heavenly, I could feel every inch of him as he moved inside of me.

Syzoth grunted, tightening his hold on my body so it would become impossible for me to escape. "Fuck…!" He cursed loudly, forehead pressing against my neck. "(Y/N), please (Y/N)! Let me cum inside…!" His tip pressed against my cervix, and I attempted to shift my position a bit but his hold was unbreakable. He looked so needy with that fucked expression of his, so gorgeous with sweat running down his muscle, and purely swallowed by pleasure and pain alike. My forehead rested on his and he gasped, finally moving his hips faster, he was trying to reach the deepest depths of my being.

I could feel the love radiating off him in every action, the way he kissed me, how he embraced me, the affection in his eyes… I could feel it all, tears cascaded down my cheeks, kissing his lips. "Don't let go of me…" I whispered, holding onto him as my hips moved in sync with his. Syzoth whispered my name like a mantra, followed by many words of adoration amidst our lovemaking. "I will never let go."

[beanghostprincess]

Sanji and Usopp during The Sabaody Incident™ won't leave my mind.

Usopp standing in front of Sanji protectively because he is wounded and he can't fight, so Usopp will do it for him ("I'll do what you can't do").

There is just something about Sanji's expression when he realizes he might actually lose Usopp. This is my interpretation, at least. He is literally frightened.

Usopp helping Sanji stand up to run away. This is crucial for something I want to point out later: Sanji needs help to stand up. (Also, Brook disappears trying to protect them both and saying he will do anything to save them even if it costs him his life. I am feeling sick).

Sanji being self-sacrificing and blaming himself for not being able to protect them/act sooner is not new. But he does manage to gain the strength to fight when Usopp is the only one left with him and the possibility of losing him is even more real now.

The thing that I love the most about this is not Sanji sacrificing himself for Usopp, because he does that. He is like that. But Usopp not running away or moving in the slightest because he refuses to leave Sanji on his own.

Something I'd like to point out too is that Sanji actually touches Kuma before Usopp disappears. He tries to fight and protect him and Kuma could've easily sent Sanji to Momoiro Island right away, and yet Sanji was just sent flying far from the scene and forced to see Usopp disappear in front of him.

And I am not saying that "not being able to protect both Brook and Usopp (especially Usopp) is needed for Sanji to realize he has to become stronger and find more reasons to go back with the crew" but not being able to protect both Brook and Usopp (especially Usopp) is needed for Sanji to realize he has to become stronger and find more reasons to go back with the crew.

Not to mention that we can't deny (right after Water 7/Enies Lobby) that Usopp is one of Sanji's strongest bonds within the crew. This specific scene focusing on them both is more than enough to prove it.

Sanji seeing Usopp disappear in front of his eyes without being able to do anything to save him.

Remember what I said about Sanji needing help to stand up seconds ago? Well. This is him the moment Usopp disappears. What adrenaline and the power of love do to a mf.

They are so "I can lose everything, but not you. Oh God, not you" shaped.

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 12

Summary: After the deaths of her fathers, Y/n past traumas resurface, leading her to do what she does best- push everyone away, including her sisters.

Warnings: angst, suicidal tendencies, substance abuse/addiction, grief, unresolved trauma, self-destructive behavior.

A/N: Y/n is heading down a dark path. If you thought she and Azriel were getting closer to something more, then you’ve seen nothing yet. We’re back to them being strangers- or better yet, she’s just beginning to show her cruelty toward him. Poor Az.

I don’t usually specify eye colors, but trust me it’s somewhat relevant to the plot.

WC: 3.8 K.

You can read previous chapter here. Fictober Challenge

Y/n finally opened her eyes, long after the war had ended. They had won, but at what cost?

“You’re awake! I’ll inform the others,” Elain said quickly, rushing outside. Y/n remained still, taking in her surroundings, trying to piece together what had happened. They may have won the war, but she had lost.

Moments later, her sisters and Rhys appeared in her room. “You’re finally awake. We were so afraid we’d lose you- we nearly did,” Feyre said softly, a flicker of relief in her gaze. “Azriel brought you to Madja and Thesan the moment you collapsed. They managed to save you just in time. If he’d been a minute later…” She trailed off, her voice heavy. “We would have lost you.” 

“Did it ever occur to you that I didn’t want to be saved?” Y/n’s voice was low and cold, stripped of any emotion.

A startled silence filled the room. “It took great effort to save you. Not many received that chance,” Rhys said quietly.

“Then you shouldn’t have wasted it on me. You should’ve just let me die.” Her tone was flat, unyielding. 

“Y/n, how could you say that? We love you.” Elain’s voice wavered with hurt.

“I think we should let her rest,” Feyre said gently. “If you need anything, we’ll be right outside.”

As the other left, Nesta lingered, her eyes searching Y/n’s face for a moment before she, too, left. At the door, they ran into Azriel, who had just arrived and asked if he could see her. Feyre hesitated, warning him of her fragile state, but he was insistent.

He entered and took a seat in the armchair beside her bed, leaning forward slightly. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Nothing. I feel… nothing.” Her gaze was fixed on the wall, her expression blank.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Why?” She turned to look at him slowly, her face emotionless.

“I… because I wasn’t there to protect you.” he murmured, searching her eyes for a reaction.

“You wouldn’t have, even if you were there,” she replied, her voice chillingly even. “He would’ve snapped you like a twig. Or maybe he would have ripped your wings from your body, watched you writhe in agony before slitting your throat. And there would’ve been nothing you or I or anyone could do about it but watch.” The detached way she said the words unsettled him, sacred him. The Y/n he knew would have shown fear, pain, or some flicker of emotion, but this…this was something- someone else. 

She turned away from him, pulling the blanket up slightly. “I’d like to rest now.” 

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Finally, he nodded to himself and left the room quietly. 

Over the next few days, they brought her food, but she refused to eat or speak to any of them.

Until one day when Feyre visited again. “We buried your father next to ours. Would you like to visit them?”

“No.” Y/n’s answer was flat, her gaze distant.

Feyre hesitated, then reached into her pocket. “Azriel found this when…when he carried you,” she said, offering her a letter.

Y/n looked at it but didn’t move to take it. “I don’t want it.”

“It was from your f-”

“Throw it out, bury it, I don’t care.” Y/n interrupted, her tone sharp and final.

Feyre bit her lip, placing the letter on the bedside table. “You should eat something.” She kept her voice gentle, leaving the food nearby, but Y/n remained silent, her gaze unfocused, lost.

Elain and Feyre took turns bringing food and encouraging Y/n to get out of bed. But Nesta kept her distance, visiting one once since Y/n had woken.

The day Y/n decided to get out of bed was anything but pleasant. She demanded a place of her own, far away from the others, and Feyre agreed. Y/n gave Feyre Truth-Teller to return to Azriel, but Feyre hesitated, hoping that Y/n might be willing to give it back herself- maybe even talk, show some emotion. So Feyre suggested she give it to him directly. Y/n took the blade without a word and left the house.

“Where are you going?” Feyre asked, watching her intently.

“To find a house.”

“You’re going to walk all the way? I can winnow you to the city.”

“I don’t want your help.” If they thought the Y/n they knew was cold and heartless, they were in for a shock with this new Y/n. 

Azriel found her that evening, after Feyre had told him what happened. She was wandering through the city, her gaze blank, unfocused. 

“Hey,” he greeted softly, but she brushed past him, her attention elsewhere. “Feyre is worried about you. We should head home.”

Usually, she’d retort with something like. “That’s not my home,” or argue with him, but now she remained silent.

Finally, she turned to face him, her icy blue-gray eyes meeting his, and held out Truth-Teller for him to take without a word. As his scarred hand brushed hers, he noticed her fingers were cold as ice. 

“You’re freezing,” he murmured, concern tightening his features. She simply turned and began walking again, but he reached out, gently grasping her wrist and pulling her back around to face him. “Y/n, talk to me. Say something, anything. Just, please, don’t-”

“I don’t feel cold,” she replied, her voice flat, though she didn’t pull her hand from his grip as she met his hazel eyes.

“You’ll catch a cold if you keep going like this. I’m taking you home,” he insisted.

“I want to walk,” she said, her tone barely softening. It was the most she’d said to him in days, so he agreed, keeping close to her. 

Once they reached the Town House, Y/n informed Feyre she’d found a place. Feyre agreed to let her move in on one condition: Y/n was to stay at the Town House for a week, eat regularly, and only then, once Feyre was satisfied she was alright, could she leave. Y/n said nothing and headed upstairs to her room. 

“And we should be able to see you at least once a day,” Feyre added as Y/n climbed the stairs.

And so began the week of forced togetherness. Since Feyre didn’t specify how many times she’d need to eat, Y/n chose the bare minimum. She would come down once a day, eat either lunch or dinner, and then retreat back to her room without a word. 

On the third day, everyone was gathered around the table for dinner when Y/n entered. Since it was the last meal of the day and she hadn’t come down for breakfast or lunch, she was compelled to sit with them. To everyone’s surprise, she took a seat next to Cassian.

“Missed me? Because I sure missed you,” Cassian tried, throwing her a playful grin, but she neither looked at him nor replied. “Come on, Y/n. By now, I would’ve expected to say something snarky or insulting… nothing?... Does that mean I finally won?” He leaned forward, trying to provoke a reaction, but she just looked at him, expression unreadable.

“Pass me the salt.” Her voice was even, unfeeling.

“Say please,” he taunted, his lips curling in a grin, but she ignored him, quietly starting to eat. Feyre shook her head subtly, warning him not to push any further. Cassian relented, handing her the salt. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, though his smile faded as he studied her still, expressionless face.

Rhys was recounting a light-hearted story, trying to lift the mood, until someone jokingly mentioned his death and resurrection by the High Lords. Y/n froze. She hadn’t known. She knew nothing of what happened after the King of Hybern’s death. She hadn’t heard about Amren turning into a High Fae, or how Rhys had sacrificed his life, or how close they’d come to losing even with the King defeated. She didn’t know where Feyre and her sisters had buried their father, or about the treaty discussion that followed, bridging peace between the courts and the courts and the mortal realm. She had known none of it- and didn’t care to, but hearing how Rhys got a second chance struck a nerve.

“So you and your mate get to live, while everyone else who sacrificed their lives remains dead and forgotten,” she said, her voice cutting as she turned to Feyre. “Tell me, why do you deserve to live while they do not?”

Silence blanketed the table. No one seemed to know how to respond. But she went on, her voice low and hard. “You all act as if nothing happened, but if he’d stayed dead, I doubt any of you would be laughing now. You want me to come down and sit and eat with you, but if it had been your mate who died, I wonder if you’d be able to do the same.” She set down her fork and stood, her expression still unreadable, before turning to leave the room.

“Y/n, no one expects you to go back to normal. You have suffered so much,” Feyre said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “I wasn’t trying to force you into anything.”

“Yet you put these conditions on me when all I want is to be left in peace,” Y/n replied, her tone weary and final as she turned and disappeared back up the stairs.

Rhys reached for Feyre’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Give her time,” he murmured, attempting to reassure her.

On the evening before Y/n’s planned departure, it was Nesta who came to see her.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me here with them?” she asked, standing by the door, her tone wavering between anger and vulnerability.

You didn’t turn to look at her, her gaze fixed outside the window. “You are your own woman now. If you don’t want to stay, then don’t.” 

“So that’s it, then? You’re going to abandon me again?” Nesta’s voice broke slightly, her fists clenched at her sides.

Y/n’s gaze remained unfocused, her words sharp. “I never abandoned you, but if that’s how you want to see it, then so be it. I don’t owe you an explanation.” Her tone was cold, far harsher than she’d ever spoken to Nesta before.

Nesta’s face hardened, her eyes narrowing. “You’re a coward. Running away again, just like back then. Instead of facing your problems.”

“Is that what you tell yourself before bed? That I ran away?”Y/n’s voice grew colder, a bitter smile playing on her lips. “What about you, Nesta? Where were you when Feyre risked her life, hunting to keep you alive?”

Silence stretched between them, thick and painful. 

Finally, Nesta’s voice softened, a hint of raw honesty breaking through her frustration. ”I need you, Y/n. We just lost our father.”

Y/n’s lips twisted into a bitter smirk. “Don’t pretend you care now. You hated the old man. Or are you feeling guilty because, in the end, he still loved us, no matter what?” Her words were cruel, and even as she said them, she felt a strange emptiness behind them. Nesta’s face fell, and her mouth opened and closed as she processed the words. She had never expected Y/n to say something like that to her, she was heartbroken.

After a beat, Nesta’s eyes hardened, and she uttered words she regretted the moment they left her lips. “You want to talk about guilt? What about you, huh? You let them die. You had all this power inside of you, and instead of using it, you did nothing. You just watched, waited until they were dead, and then you struck. It’s almost as if you wanted them to die.”

Nesta’s words struck Y/n like a blow, and for a moment, her carefully constructed mask cracked. “You’re right,” she said bitterly, voice low. “I did let them die. I failed them, and now… I just don’t care. You, Elain, Feyre, you can take care of yourselves. I am done trying to protect you. Mother knows I did a bad enough job of it as it is.” She let out a huff, dismissing the pain in her own words.

“You did,” Nesta whispered, her voice breaking as tears pooled in her eyes.

Y/n looked at her coldly, her voice quiet but cutting. “You’re no longer my responsibility. And I wish you’d stop being my weakness.” 

Nesta’s face crumpled, a single tear slipping down her cheek as she turned and walked away, leaving Y/n alone in her room. It was the last time they would speak to each other for a very long time.

After Y/n moved into her own apartment, Nesta soon did the same. Neither of them interacted with anyone from their past lives, but at least Nesta would meet Feyre briefly every month. Though their reasons for isolation were similar, each went down their own path of self-destruction. Nesta frequented bars, either drinking herself to sleep or fucking her way into exhaustion with reckless company. Y/n, on the other hand, brought the chaos to her doorstep. Each night, she invited people over, and they partied until sunrise, indulging in every dangerous substance she could get her hands on.

In the past, she’d avoided even casual drinking, saying it dulled the mind and that she needed to be alert, in control. Now, she wanted nothing more than to escape her own thoughts, to numb every feeling, to let go of everything. It began the day she moved out. She’d gone to a bar and asked for the strongest drink they had. The bartender sensing her desperation introduced her to someone with access to stronger poisons. Soon after, she met others who reveled in the same reckless abandon, who didn't care about anything either. When they discovered her identity, they were wary, but she assured them that as long as they didn’t cross her, they had nothing to worry about- no threats from a certain High Lord. The wild gatherings became a nightly ritual. People came to her place, taking all manner of poisons, but no one dared to touch her without permission. She was repulsed by physical contact; even a friendly brush would make her recoil. Yet, as she saw it, life was good- an endless cycle of highs and freedom from responsibility, a blissfully numb existence.

One day, Feyre visited, hoping to explain the Fae cycle to Y/n and offer her help when the time came. But Y/n dismissed her, saying she’d handle it herself and that it was none of Feyre’s concern. She made it clear she didn’t want Feyre;s or anyone else’s assistance and even told her to not contact her unless absolutely necessary. Feyre, unsure of what else to do, convinced herself this was Y/n’s way of healing.

As Winter Solstice approached, Rhys found himself standing on Y/n’s doorsteps. She opened the door, half asleep, assuming it was one of her usual party guests. But when she saw who it was, her body went rigid. 

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice flat.

“Solstice is in a few days. I- we expect you to be there,” he replied, his tone firm.

“To hell with that,” she scoffed, leaning against the doorframe, barely meeting his gaze.

“It’s your sister’s birthday. You owe her that much.”

“I owe her nothing.”

Rhys’s eyes narrowed. “She’s paying for your apartment and…other activities, whatever they are. If you don’t come, those payments stop.”

Y/n’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Fine. Family reunion it is. Yay, can’t wait.” She let out a bitter laugh before slamming the door in his face.

Conveniently, Y/n and Nesta arrived at the same time, neither of them acknowledging the other. Inside, the others were exchanging gifts , laughter filling the room until they noticed the two standing by the door. Feyre hurried over to open it, offering to take Nesta’s coat. Y/n, however, wasn’t wearing one despite the snow blanketing the ground outside. Elain appeared in the foyer, linking her arm through Nesta’s and leading her toward the living room. Y/n and Feyre exchanged a quick look before Feyre guided her twister inside. 

“I’m glad you came.” Feyre said softly.

“I had no choice,” Y/n replied, her tone indifferent.

By the fireplace, Azriel’s gaze fixed on Y/n, his hazel eyes brightening at the sight of her. His shadows trailed after her, drawn to her presence. Though she looked worn, there was at least a hint of color to her cheeks, a sign of life he hadn’t seen the last time she’d stayed. Back then, she’d seemed like a ghost- just breathing, merely existing. 

“We were just starting with presents” Elain announced to her sisters, giving Y/n and Nesta a warm smile.

After wishing Feyre a happy birthday, Nesta began a brief conversation with her, speaking in low tones. The others gradually resumed exchanging gifts, the festive atmosphere returning. Elain handed Y/n a small package from herself and Feyre, and Feyre offered another to Nesta. 

“I don’t need anything,” Y/n muttered, eyeing the package with reluctance.

“It’s a gift. Just take it,” Elain insisted gently, her eyes hopeful. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

Y/n noted her sister’s excitement and let out a quiet sigh. “You seem more interested than I am… fine, I’ll open it.” As she removed the wrapping, she revealed a simple, embroidered navy-blue gown. 

“You always liked handmade gifts,” Elain said, a hint of pride in her voice. “Feyre designed the pattern, and I embroidered it.”

Y/n studied the gown, her expression unreadable. “I see… I didn't bring anything for you” she replied quietly.

“You’re here. That’s enough.” Elain’s voice softened, her words laced with relief.

As the gift-giving continued, Azriel took the opportunity to move closer to Y/n. He’d hidden a gift for her, something he’d intended to give her ever since he’d found it at the Dawn Court when things between them had been good, or as good as they could be. Seeing her reaction to her sisters’ gift, he realized this wasn’t the moment. Still, he couldn’t resist the urge to speak with her, to hear her voice directed at him once more. Though his shadows had kept him updated on her wellbeing, he hadn't seen her since the day she left.

“Happy Solstice,” he murmured, his gaze steady, searching her face.

She glanced at him briefly, her expression impassive. ”Nothing happy about it.” Sheshifted away from him, choosing a seat beside Elain and remaining silent.

As the evening wore on and everyone began to tire, Y/n muttered a quiet goodbye to Elain before heading toward the door. Feyre followed, handing her a slip of paper.

“Here. Payment for rent,” she said softly.  

Y/n accepted it without a word, slipping it into her pocket as she exited.

Moments later, Azriel appeared at her side, a coat in his hand. “You didn’t bring anything to keep warm. Here,” he said, extending it to her.

She looked at the coat, then at him, her gaze cool. “I’m not cold.” She turned, begging to walk away. 

Ignoring her protest, Azriel draped the coat around her shoulders, his voice gentle but firm. “Even so, you’ll catch a cold. I’ll walk you home.”

“Get back, Spymaster.” The title was cold, distant. She’d only called him that once before- when they first met, when he was nothing more than a stranger to her. Since then, he’d gotten used to her calling him Shadowsinger, the name laced with familiarity, even warmth. And on the battlefield, when she had finally called him by his name, it had melted his heart. But ever since that day, she had barely spoken more than a word or two to him. From sleeping on his chest before battle to treating him like a stranger now- it shattered him. 

“I will, once you’re home safe.”

“I don’t want your company.” Her voice was flat, devoid of the spark he once knew.

Azriel’s jaw clenched. “Aren’t you tired of all this?” His tone sharpened with a mix of frustration and desperation.

“What I am tired of is you and your family. Why can’t you all just leave me alone?” She narrowed her eyes, her words like a wall she was intent on building. “I was perfectly fine on my own.”

“Fine? You mean the partying and taking every poison you can find, just to see which one will be the one that finally kills you?”

Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Ah, so you’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

“Of course I have. Did you think I’d stand by and let you go down this path without even checking on you?” His voice softened, a hint of pain slipping through.

She let out a weary sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Stop- just stop. I need you to stop caring.”

“Why?” His voice held an edge of anger now. “Because if I, Mother forbid, or anyone else tries to get close to you, you’ll push us away?”

“You’ve got it aaall figured out, don’t you?” She forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow.

“Come back to the house.” There was a plea in his voice he couldn’t suppress.

She snorted, shaking her head. “I don’t want to be part of your happy family. Stop trying to make me fit in.” With a defiant motion, she let the coat fall from her shoulders and land on the snow-dusted ground. 

“That’s not what I-”

“I want to be left alone. What I do with my life is none of your business.” Her voice grew colder, words clipped. “If I choose to waste it, it’s my choice. Stop following me, and don’t send your shadows after me again.”

Azriel’s face softened with hurt as he reached for her hand. “Don’t shut me out. You used to-” But as soon as his fingers brushed hers, she recoiled, her eyes narrowing, a shiver visibly running through her. For the first time, she could see the heartbreak on his face, the pain her reaction had caused. 

“What I used to be is in the past. The Y/n you knew is dead. Move on.” She turned her face away, her voice lowering. “There are things better left unsaid. Don’t make me say things that will hurt you.”

His expression hardened, masking the pain her words had caused. “You’ve already done that. So go ahead. Say what you want.”

Her eyes met his, cold and unyielding. “You’re not worth my time.” She shook her head, walking away from him and disappearing into the dark streets. 

But he followed in silence, staying in the shadows, his heart heavy. And though he moved unseen, she knew he was there- she could feel him, a silent presence lurking in the dark.

Tags: : @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious  @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho  @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic @secretsicanthideanymore @spymaster03

[missy4176]

The First Time He Says 'I Love You'

Cale Henituse x Reader

Cale Henituse has always been a man of few words, preferring to let his actions speak for him. His personality is a mix of lazy, nonchalant, and strategic, hiding his true intentions behind a mask of indifference. However, beneath that exterior, he is fiercely protective and caring towards those he considers important. Over time, you’ve grown closer to Cale, and though he hasn’t openly expressed his feelings in words, his subtle acts of care and protectiveness haven’t gone unnoticed by you. But hearing those words directly from him? That’s a different story.

Cale isn’t the type to openly display affection. Instead, he shows his care in small, almost imperceptible ways. He’d casually drop by to check on you after a battle, making sure you’re unscathed before turning away as if it didn’t matter. When you’re working late into the night, you’d find a cup of tea at your side—lukewarm, as if someone had placed it there a while ago. His eyes, usually calm and calculating, soften when they land on you, but only for a brief moment before he returns to his usual aloof self.

Cale often brushes off any deeper connection by saying things like, “I just don’t want to deal with the hassle if you get hurt.” He’s a master at deflecting emotions, even when they’re plain as day to everyone around him. You’ve learned not to push him for anything more, respecting the boundaries he seems to have set for himself.

It happens after a particularly grueling mission. The both of you are tired, dirtied from battle, and the weight of your responsibilities hangs heavily in the air. As usual, Cale checks on you—nothing unusual there. But this time, instead of his typical “Don’t make me worry about you,” there’s a hesitation in his voice.

“You’re alright, right?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual. You nod, offering him a tired but reassuring smile. He lingers, his usual exit delayed by something unspoken. You notice how his hands tighten into fists, as if he’s fighting an internal battle.

“Cale?” you call out softly, sensing the shift in his demeanor.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, staring at the ground as if it holds all the answers. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he says it.

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air between you, almost surreal. Cale Henituse, the man who seemed so detached, so reluctant to express any form of deep emotion, just confessed. It takes a moment for it to sink in, and when it does, your heart races. You’re caught completely off guard, your mind racing to comprehend the gravity of what he just said.

The moment those words leave his mouth, he stiffens. His usual calm, controlled demeanor cracks just slightly, showing a rare vulnerability. He immediately curses himself inwardly, thinking he’s let his guard down too much. His first instinct is to downplay it, make it seem like it’s no big deal.

“Don’t overthink it,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of his own words. “It doesn’t change anything.”

But it does change things. You step closer, gently taking his hand in yours, feeling the tension in his body. He’s not used to this—being open, being vulnerable. You can see how much it’s costing him to admit this, and it makes your heart swell with affection.

“Cale,” you say softly, squeezing his hand, “I love you too.”

His eyes finally meet yours, wide with surprise and something else—relief. It’s as if a burden he’s carried for so long has finally been lifted. You can see the way his shoulders relax, the tension slowly easing out of him.

Cale isn’t one to suddenly become more open or expressive after a confession like that. But from that moment on, there’s a shift between you two. He’s still the same Cale—calculating, lazy, and strategic—but now, there’s an added layer of warmth in his actions. He doesn’t shy away from touching you—a hand on your shoulder, a brush of fingers against yours. And though he won’t say it often, when he does, it’s always in those quiet, unguarded moments when it means the most.

His “I love you” isn’t just a phrase—it’s a promise, a rare and precious glimpse into the heart of a man who guards his emotions as fiercely as he does those he loves. And knowing that he’s entrusted you with that part of him makes your bond even stronger.

Cale Henituse isn’t one for grand gestures or flowery declarations. His love is quiet, steady, and deeply rooted in his actions rather than words. But when he does finally say those three words, it’s a moment that transcends all the subtle signs he’s shown you before. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability that solidifies your relationship, making you realize just how much he’s come to care for you, even if he still struggles to show it in traditional ways.

[elysiaheaven]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐄𝐘𝐄-𝐒U𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐗 𝐅.𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐎𝐡, 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐞-𝟎𝟏

'Oh, small bird- Be sealed in this cage. So your weakness won't be seen'

Words:4403

---

During the disaster, I could hardly hear anything.

Just the soft, haunting whispers of my mother's sobs. Even the loud ringing in my ears couldn't drown out the truth: she was terrified yet smiling.

Smiling, pretending everything was okay. So we could be okay...

Even in her fear, she held us both tight, her embrace like a fragile bird's wings. She sang her lullaby one last time, a sweet melody that danced on the edge of despair, before whispering,

"You will be safe and sound..."

But what about her? I was weak. So weak that I couldn't protect her. Yet, as I held Robin's hand, something ignited within me—a fierce determination to keep her alive at all costs. Even if it meant...

...

...

"Dear child, go on."

"Even—"

"Go on. Sunday, my child, look... Right now, this is your chance to reveal your true self for the last time."

"A broken boy who cries at everything. Tell me, how was little Robin when your mother urged you both to stay strong?"

"She held back her tears, striving to absorb Mother's last words. She was...

Controlling her emotions, trying to ease Mother's fear for us."

"Less?"

"Less scared for me."

Hmm? And what did you do then?

"Mr. Wood, you've asked me this before... Please, every time I remember, it—It hurts.."

"It hurts?

You feel weak? What a disappointment. To be strong is to control your emotions. Sunday, tell me: what were you doing when that happened? Remember how weak you were".

I couldn't control my tears. I kept asking if there was another way to save all three of us... I felt hopeless...

How shameful. Your sister was stronger than you. She gave your mother hope one last time by controlling her tears. You? What did you do? You cried. Your mother's heart must have ached, offering her only half-hearted hope. Both of you watched her fade into a memory.

"M-Mr. Wood, I would appreciate it if you didn't say it... It hurts."

Control it.

"Huh?"

Mr. Wood leaned back in his chair, a mock expression of concern etched on his face. "Sunday, how quaint that you still cling to your tears. It's almost endearing, really. But don't you see? This weakness only serves to burden those you love. Your mother needed you strong, yet here you are, a puddle of sorrow."

He paused, letting the words hang heavy in the air. "Why must you make it harder for her? Do you think your tears will change anything? They won't bring her back. They won't save you or little Robin."

Sunday's heart sank further with each cutting remark. "But I wanted to save her, Mr. Wood! I tried!" he pleaded, the desperation evident in his voice.

"Ah, but wanting is not enough, is it? You've learned that by now," Mr. Wood continued, his tone dripping with condescension. "You see, strength lies in control. Your sister, she understood this. While you cried, she offered hope, the only thing that can hold back despair. Did you not notice how she stood firm, a pillar of strength in the face of chaos?"j8

6

"Robin—" Sunday's voice cracked, pain washing over him at the thought of his sister's bravery.

"Yes, Robin," Mr. Wood interjected smoothly, as if savoring the sting of his words. "She managed to mask her fear, to keep your mother afloat even in the darkest of moments. Yet here you are, so easily swayed by emotion. What a disappointment. A broken boy who cannot even honor his mother's last wish. How tragic."

The corners of Mr. Wood's mouth curled into a semblance of a smile, an unsettling mix of kindness and ridicule. "If only you could harness your feelings, channel them into something powerful. But no, you'd rather wallow in this pathetic display, wouldn't you?"

Sunday's face flushed with shame. "I'm trying to be strong! I just... I can't..."

"Then stop trying," Mr. Wood replied, his voice low and almost soothing. "Instead, simply control it. It's not difficult. You must learn to bury the tears, to swallow the pain, and rise above it. That is how you become strong, how you honor your mother's memory. It's time to stop being a burden and start being the protector she needed."

As Mr. Wood's words echoed in the silence, Sunday felt the weight of his expectations. The kindness in his tone twisted like a knife, but beneath it all lay the undeniable truth: if he wanted to survive, he had to learn to control the storm within him.

"Do you understand, Sunday? Or are you still too caught up in your own sorrow to grasp the reality of your situation?"

Sunday looked down.

Mr. Wood leaned forward, his gaze sharp and penetrating. "You know, Sunday, I think it's time you learned to smile more. After all, how can you protect your sister if you're still moping about your mother's death? You must move on, put on a brave face. The world doesn't have room for weakness."

"But... how can I just forget?" Sunday's voice trembled, his resolve wavering as he struggled to keep the memories at bay.

"Forget? I didn't say forget," Mr. Wood countered smoothly, his tone almost playful. "I said to move on. If you stay shackled to your sorrow, what will become of Robin? What if your weakness consumes her the way it did your mother? Can you afford to let that happen?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Sunday felt a chill run down his spine. "I won't let that happen! I'll protect her! I'll sacrifice anything for her!" His voice rose with a mix of desperation and determination.

"Good," Mr. Wood replied, an eerie calm settling over him. "But let's be honest, Sunday. A weak heart like yours is a poor vessel for sacrifice. What if one day, Robin steps back, refuses to do the right thing? What will you do then?"

"I'll make her listen! I'll show her how to be strong!" Sunday's voice cracked under the weight of his emotions, but he pushed on, fighting the tears that threatened to spill.

"Such a confident declaration from someone so fragile," Mr. Wood remarked, his expression almost bemused. "But tell me, what if your weakness swallows her whole, just as it did your mother? What if she dies the same way? It's a simple test, really."

Sunday felt his breath hitch as the implications crashed over him like waves. He squeezed his eyes shut, fists clenched tightly as he fought to keep the rising tide of tears at bay. The thought of losing Robin, of failing her like he failed their mother, felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

"Open your eyes, Sunday," Mr. Wood commanded, his voice low and insistent. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, Sunday opened his eyes, the glossiness betraying the battle he fought within. He met Mr. Wood's gaze, a mix of fear and determination swirling in his chest. "I won't let it happen to Robin. I swear I'll protect her!"

Mr. Wood's lips curled into a smile that was anything but warm. "Congratulations, Sunday. You did well. As long as you cage your feelings, no one will get hurt. Not Robin, not anyone. You must learn this, or risk losing everything."

"But it hurts..." Sunday murmured, the weight of his emotions threatening to pull him under.

"Pain is a small price to pay for strength," Mr. Wood replied, his voice steady and unwavering. "You must face it head-on. Stop looking weak, stop crying. You need to become a guardian, not a grieving child. Your sister is counting on you."

With each word, Sunday felt the remnants of his resolve solidifying, but the fear still loomed large. The images of his mother's fading smile haunted him, intertwining with the knowledge that he couldn't let that fate befall Robin. Clenching his fists tighter, he struggled against the tears, willing himself to silence the grief.

"Good," Mr. Wood said, watching Sunday closely. "That's it. Bury it deeper. Strength comes from control. The stronger you are, the less pain you allow to surface. You must become a fortress for Robin—a shield that cannot break."

As Sunday fought against the tide of emotions, he could feel a change within him—a steeling of resolve. He wouldn't let history repeat itself. He would cage his feelings, as Mr. Wood said, and protect Robin at all costs.

"Now, remember this, Sunday," Mr. Wood continued, his voice like ice. "A weak heart will only lead to tragedy. Be strong. Be unyielding. You owe it to your sister, to your mother's memory. If you falter, it's not just your fate at stake—it's hers too."

End!-Lesson 0 seal your emotions.

Sunday found himself ensnared in a web of grief and denial, each thread woven tighter around his heart. He learned to mask his pain, to build a fortress of smiles even as his soul felt hollow. Every laugh he shared with Robin echoed with a bittersweetness, a façade he wore like a heavy cloak.

When they played together, he forced himself to join in, his laughter ringing out in bright notes that belied the darkness lurking beneath. They would spin in circles, their voices rising as they sang silly songs, both of them promising to light up the world. But deep down, Sunday was torn.

"No, Robin," he wanted to tell her, "the world isn't bright. It's shrouded in shadows. It's dark and unforgiving." Yet, he couldn't bring himself to shatter the fragile joy in her eyes. Instead, he nodded, forcing a smile, locking away the ache in his chest.

"Yes, let's sing for the world," he replied, his voice trembling with the weight of hidden sorrow. "Together."

The harsh studies loomed like a storm cloud over them, each challenge reminding him of the burden he bore. When the assignments became overwhelming, when his heart ached for the mother he'd lost, he buried it deep inside. Each time Robin looked to him for encouragement, he swallowed his pain, presenting only the cheerful exterior he had crafted.

"You're doing so well, Robin! I'm proud of you!" he exclaimed, but inside, he felt like a fraud. How could he be proud when he felt so lost?

In the quiet moments, away from Robin's bright gaze, he would stand in front of the mirror, forcing a smile that never reached his eyes. He practiced until his lips curled naturally, even as the reflection whispered secrets of sorrow he refused to acknowledge.

It was all so suffocating. The cage he had built around himself felt safe, a small haven where he could stifle his emotions and hide from the world. But the bars of that cage were his heart, and the more he locked it away, the more it felt like it was slowly withering inside him.

Each day was a battle. Each time he felt joy, guilt clawed at his insides like a hungry beast. He couldn't let Robin see the truth, the storm brewing just beneath the surface. "Smile, Sunday. Just smile," he would tell himself, yet the ache never faded.

One afternoon, as they played in the fading sunlight, Robin turned to him, her face glowing with innocent hope. "Let's make a promise, okay? We'll sing together forever! No matter what happens!"

Sunday felt a pang in his chest, a desperate wish to tell her that the world was cruel, that promises were often broken. But he simply nodded, forcing a smile that felt like it might shatter. "Yes, forever," he echoed, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

He locked away the tears threatening to spill over, swallowing the raw ache that clawed at his throat. With every laugh they shared, every song they sang, he felt the weight of his grief settle deeper, like a stone in his heart.

But the cage had its price. The more he caged his emotions, the more he felt like a ghost haunting his own life. The joy he displayed felt increasingly distant, a fleeting shadow of the boy he once was. The pain of his mother's absence hung over him like a shroud, a reminder that no matter how many smiles he wore, the emptiness would never truly leave him.

Yet, he couldn't allow Robin to see. He wouldn't let his weakness swallow her the way it had consumed their mother. So, he continued to play the role of the strong older brother, sacrificing his own heart for her light, even as it felt like each day drew him further into darkness.

With every song, every smile, every moment spent pretending, he sank deeper into his self-imposed cage, where the walls closed in tighter, suffocating yet comforting.

"Just a little longer," he would whisper to himself, "just until Robin is safe." And with that, he clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could keep the darkness at bay, even if it meant losing himself in the process.

---

Sunday grew older, the cage he had built around himself felt less like a sanctuary and more like a prison. The walls, once comforting, now loomed large and oppressive, trapping him within his own despair. Each day blended into the next, the darkness creeping in deeper, the laughter shared with Robin becoming increasingly hollow.

After all! He did lose!

He caught sight of himself in the mirror. He stared, and for a fleeting moment, he saw not just the mask of the strong older brother, but the true self locked away inside—the boy who cried, the boy who failed to protect his mother. The reflection shimmered with the echoes of his sorrow, shadows dancing behind his eyes.

Locked up, locked up, locked up.

Suddenly, a dark shape flitted through the window, a raven with feathers as black as his despair. It landed on the edge of the mirror, peering at him with beady, judgmental eyes.

"Ah, a little Halovian trapped in his cage," the raven croaked, its voice dripping with mockery. "What a sight to behold! A bird should be in a cage, but here you are, confined by your own failure."

Sunday felt the words sting like ice, and he recoiled, fists tightening as he tried to mask the rising tide of emotions. "Leave me alone!" he shouted, but the raven only cawed, a chorus of others joining in from the shadows.

"Disappointment! Disappointment!" they shrieked in unison, their voices a cacophony of accusation.

"Why do you exist?" the raven continued, its eyes glinting with malicious glee. "If you can't even do what your father asked, what purpose do you serve? Look at you, so pathetically weak. You've let your mother down, and now you're destined to let your sister down, too."

The voices echoed in his mind, a relentless assault that stirred the pain he fought so hard to contain. "Control it! Control your feelings!" they chanted, drowning out his resolve. "Don't let them see how pathetic you are! How weak you are!"

"Control it!" The raven flapped its wings, the sound a harsh reminder of his failings. "Why didn't you do what he asked? Why didn't you respect his wishes? You're just an imperfect reflection of what a Halovian should be."

"Shut up!" Sunday screamed, the words escaping him before he could think. He pressed his palms against his temples, trying to block out the haunting echoes, but they only grew louder, more insistent.

"Seal it! Seal it!" the raven shrieked, its cawing piercing through the fog of his thoughts. "Lock it all away! If you want to protect her, you have to be perfect. You must bury your flaws, your emotions—everything! Seal it tight, or you'll only lose her like you lost your mother!"

Sunday felt his heart race, panic surging as he grappled with the weight of the raven's words. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out the chaos, but the voices flooded in, suffocating him with their relentless accusations.

"Why can't you be strong?" the little voice within him echoed, the boy he used to be now taunting him. "Why can't you do this? Why do you insist on being so weak?"

He struggled against the tide, battling the feelings of inadequacy that threatened to drown him. Every moment he spent locked up in this cage of his own making felt like another failure, another weight pressing down on him.

But amid the chaos, a flicker of defiance ignited in his chest. "I won't let you swallow me!" he yelled, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. "I will protect Robin! I will be strong!"

The raven cawed, laughter lacing its tone. "You think that shouting will change anything? You're still just a broken boy behind bars. Can you even believe your own words?"

"Shut up!" Sunday pressed his palms to his ears, desperate to block out the haunting sounds, but the noise only grew louder. "I will seal it. I will control it! I can't let it destroy me!"

"Then prove it," the raven jeered, its voice dripping with disdain. "Show us you can be perfect. Show us you can truly seal it all away. Because if you don't, you're just destined to fail again."

 Sunday stood in the dim light, surrounded by shadows that mocked him, he felt a tear escape, sliding down his cheek. But he quickly wiped it away, forcing a smile to mask the pain, a fragile façade that felt like it could shatter at any moment.

"Seal it," he whispered to himself, the words a mantra that resonated in the stillness. "Seal it tight. You can't let them see you weak. You can't let Robin see..."

And with that, he buried the feelings deeper, locking away the sorrow and fear until they felt like distant echoes, lost within the confines of his cage.

But as the raven took flight, disappearing into the shadows, a small voice in his heart whispered, *What if sealing it away means losing yourself forever?*

No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!

The astral Express won!?

---

The shadows danced around him, Sunday felt the weight of his failures pressing down like an anchor. He was supposed to be the one to protect Robin, the guardian who would keep her safe from harm. Instead, he had failed her—exiled and alone, a prisoner of his own making.

The ravens circled overhead, their cries sharp and accusatory, each word a dagger that twisted in his heart. "You didn't do what Wood wished, did you? You didn't keep your sister safe!"

Their caws rang in his ears, relentless and mocking. "Look at you now, abandoned and alone! All because of that foolish deal your sister made with Lady Bonajade. She sacrificed everything for you, and what did you do? You lost your home, your family!"

And just like that, the memories surged forward, drowning him in a tide of guilt and regret. He could see Robin's face, the heartbreak in her eyes as she pleaded for his freedom, her voice trembling as she faced the dark figure of Lady Bonajade.

The boy inside him, the child he had locked away, began to shout. "Why did you put her through that? Why did you let her suffer for you?" Each accusation struck like lightning, illuminating the dark corners of Sunday's mind.

"Why are you so weak?" the child's voice echoed, piercing through the din of the ravens. "Robin is heartbroken! She must be disappointed in you! Do you think she doesn't feel guilty for giving up everything to save you? And look at you—sleeping peacefully while she bears the weight of your choices!"

"Stop! Stop!" Sunday shouted, gripping his head as the pressure mounted, as if he could crush the boy's words into silence. Anger surged through him, a fire igniting against the icy fingers of despair. "You don't understand! I did what I had to do!"

The ravens cawed in delight, the cacophony building into a frenzy. "Lock yourself away! Lock yourself up so you won't have to cry! Seal it all away! Isn't that what you wanted?"

But the boy wasn't finished. "What are you going to do? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?! You're just going to sit there while she suffers? While she's left alone with the burden of your mistakes? Wake up, Sunday! Wake up!"

The words sliced through the fog of denial, raw and unrelenting. Sunday felt the walls of his cage closing in, darkness pooling around him like a suffocating shroud. "I... I can't..."

"Robin needs you!" the child shouted, the echo reverberating in his mind. "She's out there, lost and broken because of you! You can't just sit in your cage and pretend it doesn't hurt. She's waiting for you to wake up! She's waiting for you to save her!"

The anguish in the boy's voice resonated within him, a haunting melody that stirred the dormant guilt. Sunday's heart raced as he fought against the weight of despair, the suffocating darkness closing in around him. The ravens circled, their eyes glinting with malicious satisfaction.

"Be locked up! Be safe!" they screeched, their voices blending into a nightmarish chant. "You don't have to feel! You don't have to cry! Just seal it all away! Forget your sister! Forget your failure!"

But the boy's voice broke through, insistent and demanding. "What will you do? What will you do to protect her? You're nothing without her! You're just a coward hiding in a cage!"

Sunday clenched his fists, the pain of the child's words piercing through the darkness. He could feel the tears threatening to spill, the grief that had been locked away now bubbling to the surface. "I don't want to be weak anymore!" he shouted, voice raw with desperation. "I want to protect her! I want to make things right!"

But as he cried out, the raven's voices grew louder, their laughter echoing in his ears, drowning out the boy's haunting cries. "You'll always be a disappointment! You'll always be weak! Seal it! Lock it away! That's the only way to survive!"

Suddenly, the cage felt tighter, the bars pressing against his chest as the shadows surged, wrapping around him like chains. "No! I won't let you!" he shouted, panic rising within him, but the darkness only tightened its grip.

"Lock up your heart!" the ravens shrieked. "Seal it! Don't let anyone see how broken you are!"

With every word, he felt the flicker of hope dimming, the shadows clawing at his spirit, pulling him back into the depths of despair. The child's voice, once so vibrant, began to fade. "You can't leave me here! You can't abandon her!"

"Wake up!" the boy cried, the final plea echoing through the nightmarish cacophony, but the darkness swallowed the sound, leaving Sunday alone in the suffocating silence of his cage, haunted by the choices he had made.

---

---

Sunday jolted awake, his heart pounding as he gasped, "Robin!" The echo of his own voice filled the dim, unfinished room, and he quickly scanned the space around him. The walls were bare, and the air felt thick with an unsettling stillness, like the remnants of a dream lingering just beyond his grasp.

The Astral Express had said someone once occupied this room, but now it felt empty—dull and lifeless. The furniture was sparse, the decor unfinished, reflecting a haunting reminder of what could have been. It was a space where hope had been stifled, a room still waiting for its purpose.

He sat up slowly, a chill running through him as he took in his surroundings. Everything felt imperfect and lacking, but he couldn't complain. He had to breathe; he had to live. Robin had begged for him, pleading for him to keep going, to survive when he thought he'd never find the strength. The thought of her determination, her unwavering belief in him, ignited a flicker of resolve deep within his chest.

Glancing at the mirror, Sunday caught sight of himself and felt a wave of vulnerability wash over him. He looked... disheveled. Sweat clung to his smooth, shoulder-length silver hair, the fringe swept up haphazardly to the left. His golden irises, usually bright and expressive, appeared dulled by exhaustion, framed by dark circles that spoke of sleepless nights. His clothes were tattered. It was....!

He took a deep breath, reminding himself of who he was—a Halovian. Behind his ears, wings of a similar silver shimmered, the left one adorned with two gold stud earrings, a testament to his heritage. The halo above his head, detailed with intricate eye motifs, felt heavier than ever, a constant reminder of expectations he struggled to meet.

Something itched at the back of his mind, pulling him from his thoughts. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom, the sound of water beckoning him like a whisper of comfort. As he stepped into the shower, the warmth enveloped him, and he closed his eyes, letting the water cascade down, washing away the remnants of the nightmare.

The water flowed over him, memories of the night surged back. The raven's accusations echoed in his mind, and he clenched his fists, trying to push them away. But the weight of those words clung to him, a heavy cloak that refused to let go.

He brushed his teeth, the soft bristles of the toothbrush soothing against his gums, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of disarray. Each of the three bristles felt scattered, just like his thoughts, each one out of place and waiting for a sense of order. Everything he touched seemed to reflect the chaos inside him. He tried to arrange the items neatly—mouthwash lined up perfectly, toothpaste squeezed just so—but it felt so odd, so foreign. But that was just who he was, always seeking perfection in the midst of turmoil.

He looked at himself in the mirror again, noting how tired he looked, as if he hadn't slept for days—because he hadn't. The nights blurred into one another, filled with nightmares and the haunting realization of his own weaknesses. He didn't know how many times he had awakened in this strange world, feeling like a ghost of himself.

But today, something shifted within him. As the water washed over him, he felt a sense of clarity, a purpose that beckoned from the depths of his soul. He was here, alive, and Robin was out there, believing in him.

"Get it together, Sunday," he muttered to himself, a gentle reminder. "You owe it to her to keep fighting.. Keep- Cage it up! Cage up your worries."

After finishing his shower, he dressed in the most normal clothes Dan Heng and Mr. Welt had given him, fabric soft against his skin, an unexpected comfort in the midst of uncertainty. As he stepped outside, he inhaled the fresh air, a mix of hope and fear swirling within him.

With every step he took, he could feel the weight of his past pressing against his chest.

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEBLOG: Wakfu Season 4, Episode 2 [PART 1]

I miss the grittier, browner Bonta of older seasons...

Agardoes what Jorisn't.

(totally not a joke I've been making for months now)

Moooooom Yugo was MEAN to me. Ngl Qilby was so good in this season, his interactions with Eliatrope are filled to the brim with insane implications.

Even more movie asset reusage. Ughh. The tavern Kerubim talked to Bakara at would NOT still be standing. It's canonically underwater and underground and shit. Like the rest of Dofus era Bonta.

Kettle insulting a pan for being on fire.

Ush will only have the right to insult him if he can stop fucking cats. <3

Both of these are also asset reusages but I'm too lazy to track down from where. The woman is from Aux Tresors, and the man is from Wakfu season 2, is all I can tell without further inspection.

I'm sure there's more stuff I missed, but I'm already annoyed enough that they decided to cut costs at every single corner even without looking further into it...

He's still a catfucker. Sad, oh well.

My beautiful wife.

[start talking shit about Ush as loud as possible the second he is in a hearing distance, in an exaggerated, expository way]

This is some school locker bully behavior, made funnier by the fact that the person actually doing all the bullying is Ush.

The way Atch starts staring here, and Ush immediately says "not here to fight, lol" just confirms the fact that this conversation is 90% all about letting Ush know he is not welcome <3

Something that makes me extremely mentally ill is about to happen, chat.

When it's Wakfu cast, who are Joris's friends whom he wants to impress, it's all "Papa... you're being awfully selfish for not letting us go and fight together with you :))"

But when it's Ush, it's immediately "whether my little Jojo is home or not depends entirely on what the fuck you want from him." as if Joris isn't a 600yo politician and kind of should hear whatever Ush has to tell him, and as if there aren't huge eyes in the sky that he was interested in.

Conspiracy theory: one of the reasons Joris is still single (besides the aromanticism, horrible personality, misantrophy, 20 psychiatric disorders, not wanting to be in relationships—) is that 99% of people who have ever had a crush on Joris were afraid of disappearing under mysterious circumstances.

Kerubim's little mad, unamused look...

I want to point out, once again, that when you actually pay attention to the OVAs and this moment, Atcham and Kerubim always kinda... act like Joris is a child.

Joris expressed that the eyes in the sky concern him? They try to stop Ush from talking to him outright. Because they don't like Ush, because they don't want Joris to investigate this, and because they want him to stay home.

Joris expressed that he doesn't want them to fight Ush together with him because he doesn't want to see them hurt? They don't give a shit, and try to express that in the softest way possible that won't embarrass Joris in front of his friends.

It feels like a mix of holding Joris on a leash, but also trying to wrap him in a cotton wool. Sometimes it helps Joris, sometimes it's just patronizing.

Ngl they do have good reasons to protect their [checks notes] 600-year-old ambassador from this guy.

You have no idea what this moment means to us, Atcham fans. All three of us.

Kerubim's expression..... probably gauging how likely it is that Atcham might start screaming or clawing at something.

Words can't express how much of a Gift this entire scene is.

Atcham looks like he's about to lose his anger management badge. Kerubim looks like he's scared that Ush is going to die or kill Atcham in self-defense.

HE'S SO SCANDALIZED.

The anger management classes + not wanting to be arrested?

KERUBIM SO UNAMUSED.

Kerubim is probably so used to seeing Atcham freak the fuck out about things. It's his brother's special charm.

[wipes tear] He's learned to love the bomb.

...sorry for making references to the band glass animals. it will happen again,. if you dislike that maybe you should learn to love the bomb too.

[hwasdvlly]

Kitty | s.mingi

✮ summary: a vampire and his mortal lover get into the spooky spirit.

✮ pairing: mingi x fem!reader

✮ genres: romance, slice of life, and fluff

✮ word count: 0.8k words

✮ warnings/tags: none. established relationship, vampire!mingi, tsundere bf!mingi, mortal!reader, halloween fun

✮ a/n: mingi has finally joined my library! it took a while but i am happy that i got the time and energy to continue writing. in the making of vampire/tsundere mingi i couldn't contain my squeals

The season of autumn comes in like the warmest hug. Chattering autumn leaves of gold and scarlet, and the soft wind echoes. But most of all, a spooky yet fun holiday is around the corner. 

Inside an apartment, a handsome vampire with ash blonde hair, snow-white skin, smokey eyes, and a tall physique dressed in comfy clothes is resting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. 

Mingi notices on his social media that people are preparing for Halloween. The vampire honestly doesn’t know if it’s a mockery for mortals to imitate supernatural creatures or something to celebrate fear as an enjoyment. Suddenly, he hears the beautiful voice of his girlfriend, more like ordering him.

“Let’s go, Mingi! I want to see if the store has what I want!” You frowned at your slouching boyfriend. 

He sighs and puts his phone on his chest. The vampire raises an eyebrow at your change in appearance. You are in a cozy outfit because it has gotten colder nowadays. Mingi puts his phone in his pocket and stands up from the couch while talking. “I don’t get the whole hype about this holiday. Is it to make fun of the ones in my realm?” After living in the mortal world for quite a long time, Mingi has been learning and adjusting to a new lifestyle. Of course, he did it for you because you are the light of his life. 

“No, it’s not that.” You shook your head and watched him go to the door to grab his sneakers off the rack. You walk up to him to put on your boots. Like a gentleman, Mingi holds your hand so you don’t lose balance. “It’s a holiday to get free candy, dress up however you want, and being scary is fun.” You tried to reason and made him understand that it’s not supposed to be an insult. Mingi responds, “Whatever you say.” He sounds so blunt, yet he’ll do it for you.

His seven friends, and you call him a tsundere. Mingi may act and look intimidating, but he goes all softie boy whenever he is around you. 

Walking down the streets, hand-in-hand, you are more excited while your boyfriend looks soulless. You turn your head to notice how unenthusiastic he is. “Come on, Mingi! Show some happiness on your face.” You encouraged him because you want to make his days joyful. Indeed, he is proud to be part of your life and is grateful that his kind doesn’t have a feud with humans. You truthfully don’t know how you made his stone, cold heart flutter constantly, but it’s adorable. 

Mingi lets out a breath. He shifts his neck to look down at his lover. Your petite self is so cute that he wants to protect you at all costs, which he does. Then a grin etches onto his stunning face. If you weren’t outside, you would’ve fainted on the spot. “T-There you go.” You sheepishly spoke as your face began to crimson. 

His grin turns into a charming smirk. He loves seeing you get flustered. 

As the lovers arrived at the Halloween store, you immediately dragged your vampire boyfriend into the costume section. “We should get costumes as a couple! Maybe this one.” You found a cute witch costume with a hat, a black corset dress, and striped stockings. Mingi observes it and would be lying if he said it wouldn’t look pretty on you. Anything that his love wears is gorgeous. 

“If we do that, then what am I supposed to be?” Mingi asked you. He sees his mortal love skim through the aisle, looking for the right costume. 

Shortly, your eyes brighten. “A-ha! Perfect!” You grabbed whatever it was and put it on Mingi. His curious expression quickly becomes discontented. “Are you for real?” He hopes his seven annoying but lovely friends aren’t watching him in the other world. Mingi also hopes the undead aren’t laughing at him. 

“I am not going to be your cat, Y/N.” He groans with sparkly cat ears on his ash-blonde head.

You ignored his complaint and hugged him tightly. “Yes! You are!” You opposed Mingi’s disapproval of your idea. You can blatantly admit that he would be the cutest kitty. 

“Are we done now?” Mingi questions because you haven’t let go of him. You shook your head while rubbing your face on his broad chest. “Nope. We still need to get decorations, and after that, we need fall snacks.” You informed him. 

Mingi allows it because he can’t escape from you. 

Once purchasing the items, the vampire has the bags in his hand and the phone in the other. You wrap your arms around his and lay your head on his bicep. Mingi texts his friends in a group chat. He explains to them he will be a cat for Halloween. As expected, they all were shocked and made teasing remarks. 

wooyo: kitty mingi! im dead!

sannie: that’s a SIGHT to see

jjong: not for me because it’ll be a nightmare

yuyu: y/n is a genius hehe

hwa: it’s nice that you agreed with her

joongie: tell y/n to send us pics

yeo: have a wonderful halloween mangi!

[m4pletreez]

Information and Questions about UniteVerse!!

Ah, hello! My name is Maple, and I'm writing this post to info dump about UniteVerse! All sections of this post will have a little opening thingy so you know when the topic changes lol, since this is a lot of information I'm giving everyone reading- Firstly, we'll start with the cast of UniteVerse's personalities, then we'll get on with everything else!

The Cast and their personalities: Ink: A mix of canon, his UnderVerse personality, and fanon (but just a lot less bitchy and more patient) Error: It's practically non existent, because he's just a robot and can't technically feel anymore Nightmare: Calm and vigilant, but he's still also bossy and short tempered. He just has a lot more patience now Dream: Almost exactly like canon, although he has less patience now- (and he's basically an evil scientist now hehe) Killer: Kind of the same as canon? Maybe? He's a lot more quiet now and just a bit more distant, rarely anyone sees him anymore except for Nightmare Cross: Supportive and quiet, but his personality doesn't exactly matter because he's dead- Horror: Patient and protective, although he's infected so it doesn't matter- Murder: Canon personality with the addition of him being a bit more louder and expressive, but he's infected- Swap: Canon. But he's infected lmao- Science: Stern and strict, short tempered, but has a softer side to him Reaper/Death: Rare person to see, but he's non-talkative anymore and rarely socializes Geno: Canon ig? But, he's dead- Lust: Protective and commanding, still has his sense of style and that lovely personality! There's likely going to be others in UniteVerse, but they either hold no importance to the story or I'm debating on adding them in. Backstory. Some sort of accident within the multiverse (have yet to decide what it may be, probably has to do smth with the whole "balance" thing you sometimes see in other ppl's AUs), and said accident causes a huge problem that could cost everyone's lives

In this silly little multiverse, the Stars & Bad Sanses are forced to put everything behind them and leave it for later, until they can save themselves from death. (Then they'll get back to their whole fight thingys, but that doesn't happen for a long time) Lots of people get injured, some die, and some just get redesigns. Lots of incidents happen in the story that cause holes in the roads, for instance Error almost dying and having to basically be turned into a robot to stay alive, Ink having to become a medic/scientist, and alot of other shit-

It's smth I'm really proud of, and the whole basic idea came from an idea my 10-11 yr old self came up with named "The End Of Us All" which will never be an official thing- The multiverse is obviously not completed yet, but I like to post little things about the characters I've made so far in it and develop it more overtime!

The Completed Cast so far. I got Error, Ink, Killer, Nightmare, Cross, Dream, Swap, Horror, Murder, Science, and Lust all completed (design wise) and what their roles are in this multiverse! Here they are! -Dream & Nightmare are basically just the leaders of the two subdivisions, them also being Scouters. (A Scouter is basically just a medic or a Scientist at this point, but most of them have labelled names. For instance, Ink. Ink's labelled name is SC-1 bc he's the first Scouter out of them. Dream and Nightmare are SC-3 and SC-4.) -Cross was a medic but bro is dead now so- -Killer's just...existing atp (idk what he is yet, if anyone wants to give me an idea go right ahead!) -Error is going to become either something tech related, a mechanic, or smth else- -Ink's the main medic/scientist! He's also a Scouter, as mentioned earlier. -Murder was the second Scouter within the two teams! His label was SC-2. But, unfortunately for him, during an attempt to retrieve something on the surface, he was turned into an infected. -Horror was an assistant Scouter for Murder, who went on the same mission as Murder. Trying to get back to one of the entries of the bases, he was scratched on the forehead by an infected Murder, and was turned into an infected weeks later -Swap wasn't exactly given a role, mainly because I have no idea what his role should be. BUT!!! He's an infected, but there seems to be something different about him from the rest of them. . . -Science was a lone Scouter, working by himself and not with the others. He finds it more beneficial for him to work alone than to work with everyone else. Well, apart from Ink, he tends to work with Ink sometimes. -Lust is a type of commander, not sure over what yet, but he’s a big help for Dream and a trusted member. He’s still his usual self, but like stated earlier, he’s more protective and commanding, and he knows how to get the job done properly.

The Infected. The infection turns a perfectly normal person, human or monster, into a violent creature/being, losing any and all sanity and becoming a mindless beast. The symptoms before changing are: Hostility. Bleeding constantly from one spot on the body. (example: the ear) Loss of memory. Either loss of appetite or heavy appetite. (this changes depending on the person) Signs of potential insanity. A crazed look in the infected's eyes. A minute before someone starts to turn, they seek comfort from a person who brings them some form of comfort (who is usually dead), but are unable to get said comfort.

Some Fun Facts! (WILL HELP WITH PIECING TOGETHER LORE.) 1: Cross was killed in the same accident that almost killed Error 2: Dream is an anti-hero, and basically what you'd call an evil scientist lol 3: Some people have similar gloves to Scouters 4: There is no known way to restore the sanity in an infected or turn them back. 5: He may not seem like it, but Science is a huge importance to the story 6: The DT twins have a semi-decent relationship. They're on decent terms, but they tend to get bitchy with each other often 7: The loss of Cross and Swap is causing for Dream to be on the edge of his breaking point constantly  8: When Murder was still alive, he and Horror would go on missions that involved the surface and having to retrieve something in there 9: Ink is able to pick up on details quickly to piece together a situation 10: Ink tends to write logs about different things. From patients (aka people who might be infected, ppl who are sick, etc.,) to information about the infected, to past incidents he wants to get off his chest. He has a log book for almost everything 11: Science plays a huge importance in Swap's story, you'll know why eventually 12: Error remembers nothing after the explosion, apart from his name and age. Everything else has been wiped from his memory 13: Killer broke his arm by trying to kill an infected 14: Ink amputated half his arm to prevent himself from turning into an infected after being scratched in the wrist by one 15: If you've been scratched by an infected, pray that it's hit somewhere you can amputate or else you're fucked 16: Nightmare accidentally caused Cross' death, you'll know why eventually 17: Killer is almost always never around 18: Swap died protecting Ink from an infected, leaving Ink with constant survivours guilt 19: Ink lost Broomie near the start of the infection 20: The infection has a chance of making the multiverse fall

Anyways! That was a bit of an info dump, now! Time for the questions! These questions were asked by my lovely child @mira-rachel through Quotev (Also Mi, these answers are going to be updated so the answers may be a bit different than before) :3

Q1. I wanna ask, what took Cross' life? Is it the same incident that almost killed Error? Q2. What does the other sanses roles in this multiverse? Do they just exist, or, dead? Q3. Where is the main cast staying at? Q4. From the roles, i suspect there will be an apocalypse happening? Or am I wrong?

A1: What took Cross' life was a freakish explosion. Error was involved in the same accident, so yes! A2: Some of them exist, some dead, some alive. Usually roles come to me when making the characters, although sometimes I get ideas for their roles before hand! A3: The main cast are all hidden within two different bases underground! One base that is mainly meant for the Stars, and the other one for the Bad Sanses. They use an underground path system to travel to and from their bases so they don't risk going onto the surface and dying. (Ink also tends to stay at the medical facility in the Bad Sanses base to mostly take care of Error, since he doesn't want to risk him doing something that'll accidentally kill himself.) (They also have 2 separate backup bases that are extremely far from the Main bases, but the backups are for if the main bases get overrun by the infected.) A4: It's some form of apocalypse, mainly just a murderous infection though lol

ANYWAYS!! Eugh sorry that was so incredibly long, but I'm so happy I can share so much information about this AU!!! If anyone has any questions about UniteVerse, go ahead and ask! I'd be more than happy to answer them!! Thank you so much for your time, it's very appreciated. Have a fantastic day or night! <3

-Maple

Note: If you want to, please reblog. I really hope for this multiverse to become popular, since I'm working so hard on building it. But, you don't have to reblog if you don't want to! ^^

[reliquiaen]

Solomon is set up to be a trustworthy and reliable character. He is gracious when Sarah gives him a piglet, he warns her to be careful in the woods (or is he just worried she’ll catch him; if he knows about the parties, then he probably knows they visit Widow Mary, hm…). He is kind and understanding when she tells him she loves Hannah, he is protective when Pastor Miller tries to kill her in the chapel. He tries to talk sense into the other townspeople. He seems like a genuinely good man. But he’s not, and when I did my rewatch, I looked at his words and actions through that lens instead.

It's fairly self-evident that he’s selfish and cares about others only insofar as they can be of use to him, but knowing what he is from the start allows for some interesting reads.

First, this exchange right at the end with Sarah; the tinting of my lens:

Solomon: “Consider, Sarah, a single soul,” (Cyrus Miller) “Just one. And in return, what no amount of praying could ever bring. One person every few years seems a small price to pay.”

Sarah: “One person? The pastor slew twelve children.”

Solomon considers one person to have been sacrificed. Sarah argues it was thirteen. Both of them leave out poor Widow Mary, a total of fourteen people. Neither of them mentions the other costs: the divisions and suspicion it sows in their community, the dead livestock and the toll that will take on a small village’s food supply, or the potentially unending casualties this will have going forward. Obviously, given the situation and how shocking this is to both of them, I’m willing to put aside these things. Heat of the moment and all that. And Solomon expects there will BE no consequences in the vein of poor harvests and such.

What I really want to emphasise here is this: Solomon views his only victim as being Cyrus Miller, Sarah considers all of them to be his victims. This is interesting because it highlights not only the completely askew moral compass Solomon is working with (and I mean, yikes, you know), but also how he views women. Again, this is an “at the time” thing that I’m mostly willing to wave off as being pretty standard. Men did see women as less than at the time so it makes sense that he’s not really visualising Widow Mary (who had a Reputation for being a bit of a weirdo anyway) as a Victim Who Mattered. Children were also, generally speaking, a woman’s concern. He shows no remorse at all for the children being killed; the children who would’ve been Union’s future. And he WAS a father. We never find out how his wife and child died (or maybe I’m just not sure I believe his story), but I’d be very curious to know if this is his first foray into the occult or if perhaps he had previous victims. A trial run or some such.

HOWEVER. This idea of Solomon not actually giving much of a shit about women got me thinking about another scene from earlier in the movie (and this is where I really started to re-evaluate his actions based on new knowledge).

This is Solomon upon entering the chapel where Cyrus has just murdered a dozen kids. You can see in his expression and movements that he’s unsure what to expect; he doesn’t know what he’ll find in here. He clearly knew there would be SOME effect on poor old Pastor Miller, but my guess is he just assumed the man would die horribly and that’d be that. So imagine being Solomon here and having to confront what you’ve REALLY done.

This is the shot where he fully comprehends what’s happened. The horror on his face. He was not expecting this. Something bad, yes. Gouging out kids’ eyes? Not so much. (There’s a slightly zoomed out shot of Solomon on his knees just after this and it’s great, it’s like here you are Solomon. Behold the consequences of your actions. And he’s sitting among all these dead children, we as the audience are getting a moment to fully take in the horror of what’s just happened, but HE is taking this moment for it all to sink in. In this moment, he’s got to be wondering “Is this really worth it?” and I wonder what kinds of things he’s weighing up in his head. I wonder what would’ve happened, what he would’ve decided later, if Sarah hadn’t stumbled onto his secret and condemned him for it. Anyway.) Please also note the lighting behind him: not an accident, he is literally being posed here as a saviour of some kind, a vengeful angel, perhaps. We are being positioned to see him as the guy who will Do Something about all this, starting with Cyrus Miller we must assume. Very good framing in the “don’t let the audience figure out he’s the bad guy” kinda way. But wait up a minute.

The townsfolk spill in the doorway, they find the children relevant to them and have a horrified moment and then there's Sarah in the front row. The pastor comes around the stand with the clear intent to kill her, and Solomon has a moment. He knows what’s gotta be coming, he has to know, there’s this anger in his face, and he calls out to Sarah as a warning. Goody Miller says, “Cyrus no!” and then Solomon impales him. No hesitation. This is a man beholding his works and being very conflicted about them.

What’s interesting to me is that the first time you watch this scene it is VERY easy to say that he does this to protect Sarah whom he has feelings for. Super easy. It’s set up right from the start with Sarah’s conversation with her dad and her lil visit out to see Solomon and their friendly banter. It’s established and it’s understandable. The contrast is between Solomon and literally everyone else in the room, however.

The townsfolk with children come charging in to find out what’s gone on and they all go right to their children because they love their kids/siblings obviously and want to look after them. Goody Miller’s instinct is to go to her possessed, murdering husband because she CARES for him. But Solomon does not go to Sarah. He stands there, staring at Cyrus and that’s it. He doesn’t even LOOK at Sarah. Why not? He’s supposed to care about her? But does he? Does he value her at all outside her potential as a wife?

Now, Solomon is obviously Going Through It, here. He did a thing, it escalated WAAAAY beyond his expectations, and now he has to wrestle with that. He has to decide is all this worth it? Does he care so little about people that’ll he’ll do it again?

This is largely the scene I was considering. But there are other little changes to a reading of Solomon. Such as when Sarah tells him she loves Hannah, which she did right before this scene in the chapel. Here’s his expression:

This is Solomon’s face when Sarah says, “And if it wasn’t? […] That’s why I’m so afraid, because it was not just a dalliance.” That is the face of a man whose grand plans are crumbling. On a first watch, it's the face of a man hearing something he's not expecting to, something he might find a little distasteful about a person he cares for and respects. On a rewatch?

He KNOWS that she and Hannah have been having a lil thing going on, he SAW them in the woods. But he’s clearly decided that it doesn’t matter, he’s got his own reading of the situation happening in his head and it goes like this: a woman loves a man, they get married, they have kids, there are no deviations from this; if there ARE deviations, they are just… practice for the real thing, nbd. Therefore: Sarah will love Solomon, they will get married, have kids, all will be well and as people expect. So when Sarah very much has no intention of going along with this view… he’s got to be wondering how it’ll work with his devil plans. He MUST have this niggling doubt in his mind that she's even worth including in his master plan. And when he saves her in the chapel but never so much as looks at her? He has a decision to make, there.

And it makes ME wonder: how much did he ever really care about Sarah? Did he love her? Or did he just love the idea of having another wife? A take-two at being a family? Did he love the idea of proving his brother (and the town) wrong and being a hero with a thriving farm and a quaint lil family? Because he turns on Sarah easily enough, he chooses the devil pact over her and the other townsfolk. He chooses not to live his life but to end others. (Solomon Goode has two hands and he's making that everyone elses' problem.)

So when he’s standing in the chapel over the body of Cyrus Miller (his one and only victim, we PROMISE), what’s he really thinking? Yes, more than one person has died. No, that doesn’t have to put a dent in his plans. Perhaps Sarah can still come around. Is he considering how to get rid of Hannah? Is he wondering if Sarah is worth it? She’s a very strong personality (she is no lamb, after all), it’s not like she’d let him go about his business without any questions, she’d stick her nose in everywhere, maybe find him out. Is that risk worth it?

Solomon actually says when they’re wrestling at the end, “Don’t make me hurt you, I love you, Sarah.” And it’s the ‘don’t make me hurt you’ that’s so typical of men like him. He doesn’t love her, he loves the idea of her, the idea of what she could give him or be for him. He's a man who lost his wife and child and he feels that keenly; a failure or absence in his manhood. So his faults and shortcomings become her problem. Any woman could be substituted and as long as they were malleable and suggestive enough, it’s all the same to him. Which is clearly the conclusion he eventually arrives at since he turns on her and she hangs.

Should Sarah have figured out he was untrustworthy and insane earlier? No. I don't think so. It's not like Solomon was waving red flags around everywhere. He seemed like a normal dude on the surface, definitely pretty great in comparison to Thomas or Caleb, which is what makes him so dangerous. It is interesting to watch again knowing the truth, though. The things that make your hackles go up with more context, the subtle hidden meanings in his words, the way everything he does is for himself, it's a very nice reframing.

Sarah’s final line also drives me absolutely insane: “I will never let you go.” She didn’t want anything to do with him, but now? When it ends like this? When he’s decided she’s not worth it and he doesn’t want her after all? When he's taken away her chance at happiness? When he's ripped all the solid ground out from under her? That’s when she says she’ll never let him go? And that word choice? It's not 'I'll never let you forget this' or 'I'll never let you rest' or something more like that, it's 'never let you go' she'll hold onto him forever. He's made his issues other people's problems and now she's making herself HIS problem. Taste of his own medicine. Never let him go. Vicious, outrageous, iconic. I love her.

Everything is about HIM, and he uses all the tools at his disposal to make sure things come up Solomon. He chooses himself every time. A great juxtaposition to Sarah who chooses Hannah every time (even when Hannah tells her to run and she does, Sarah still goes back. It's a stupid decision, monumentally dangerous, but she wants to help Hannah, she goes back because she CARES). And I think the really great part is that to everyone else in the town, it looked like Sarah was just being a bitch, but she made her choices with the goal of protecting people; she tried to protect everyone in Union – Hannah, foremost, sure – but even that is a selfless act. She knew it was one or both of them so she saved Hannah. Solomon knew it was him or like… hundreds of people. And he chose himself. Would love to know what Hannah did after this, we don’t see another Miller in ’78 or ’94 so like, where’d she go? (The answer is probably ‘got married, took her husband’s name, no more Millers’ but like, c’mon, something more interesting please.)

And listen, I know Solomon must’ve gotten married again and had more kids, that’s obvious enough; and we know he kept going with the rituals, but I BET he pictured himself as the poor, sad, unsung hero of Union, doing this for the Good Of Everyone™ and having to live with the suffering in silence. I bet he thought he was living a miserable life because it didn't turn out EXACTLY how he wanted. Because he had to justify it to himself somehow, and it started with his ‘these lands are fertile’ so he’s got this picture of himself in his head where he’s solving everyone’s food problems as if he didn’t cause them in the first place.

He’s the very epitome of “be careful what you wish for” because he wished for Sarah Fier and by god he got her, teeth and all.

[unlikelyjapan]

s2e8 rewatch notes

I've been living under a rock this week, but I did do a dive into Bolognese.

I've noticed there's only sunlight in the dining room when Syd and Carmy are together - otherwise it's always cast in a pale blue or artificial hue during the daytime. There's so much uncertainty in the opening scene, with Syd surveying the in-progress landscape by herself, like she knows it might be all for not.

Cut to Carmy stimmying alone in the kitchen. Claire's "you alright?" and Carmy's blank expression "Yeah, I'm alright" followed by Claire whispering "everything's fine" - others have touched eloquently on the infantalization, but so much of their relationship is dependent on her telling him how to feel. She asks him about the NICET level-2 exam, and he trails off mid-way because he really doesn't want to be discussing this with her - it punctures the love bubble.

Claire can feel the hesitation marks - re: with him sharing about his work, about his relationship/situationship with her, and that's what spawns the abrupt "never, ever apologize" - she's effectively telling him "you don't need to say anything" so she can continue being in control of their narrative. She's emotionally intuitive enough to see he's mentally in anguish,  and she's trying to protect the connection at all costs by denying him any opportunity to experience/feel that anguish.

I don't think her actions are nefarious, it's just that when someone really REALLY wants someone else, they're bound to manipulate their emotions. We see it in her helping flip the narratives about the cannoli too - it's very much a "change the angles/change the lighting" move on something that is actually big . fucking. deal - it's projected like she's simply invested in Carmy's improvement, but it's also incredibly self-serving.

UGH the whispering. On second viewing, I can view it more as intentional discomfort, but it's still like being spit-roasted in CW Network hell.

"Lay my Love" John Cale and Brian Eno playing - "I am the crow of desperation, I need no fact or validation" - the whole song is about the relentlessness (and shadiness) of getting someone to love you back. Carmy suppresses who he is (and what he's feeling) to be with Claire, Claire aids in suppressing Carmy's feelings and completely sublimates her own need for everything (other than Carmy) to get him to want to be with her.

Tina & Ebra - yay, I love witnessing platonic friendships/working partnerships! /s

Someone please cross-stitch me an "Old bitches like their bitch ways" pendant to hang in my kitchen. Beyond that, there's not much to analyze in this scene - Ebra seems to feel more shame than resentment in his need to stay fixed. This is such a great interlude for the episode - showing that failure is tolerated within the found family, there's a place for everyone etc.

The fire suppression test is the shoe that doesn't drop for Carmy (so it emboldens him - the world didn't end, he's safe, so he immediately jumps into a defined relationship 2 weeks from open at the end of the episode) while Syd understands that the test just means they have permission to begin the first leg of their journey.

Hence, her response to "Just thinking about the fire suppression test" is a broader "Controlling the zone, staying calm, creating space, trust" - "How do we do this?" Carmy defers to her for the emotional labor of running The Bear - again. He figures he's there to deliver her things that impress her and elevate her (his talented palate, the chaos menu, a chef's coat, her star via his cache) - so naturally he thinks it's mission accomplished as soon as they have clearance to open.

Talking about the potential of failing the suppression test, they say "We are fucked" - in unison. When Sydney echos Carmy, he cops another sneaky glance at her face (sorry, I'm graphically feeble so I didn't grab a shot) not unlike the scene where they're talking in the kitchen. Contrasting this with the mumbled anxiety conversation with Claire, this conversation gives him strength - when they have these synchronistic moments, Carmen feels incredibly seen and heard.

"The best offenses have the ability to reset and adapt on a dime."

"We can do that though."

"We have to."

Well, one of them achieved this. Sydney is the offense. Carmy is the defense. Sydney is adapting to all the travails set up in the process of opening the restaurant - including Carmy - attempting to score a win. Carmy is blocking her from that win, but he's a shitty defense because his whole schtick is impressing Syd ironically taking Coach K to heart in his personal life. I think back to the intro-interview I transcribed at the beginning of Forks (from Coach's interview):

The very first thing is that in order to get better you change limits. And when you change limits, you're going to look bad and you're going to fail. And at West Point I learned that failure was never a destination. In other words, when you are knocked back, you know, figure out why, then change.

Carmy changed the limits in so many things - in his boundaries in relationships (with both Syd and Claire), opening his own restaurant, and reaching for more of life in general. He's failing, as expected - but he's also failing to play defensively, to figure out the why- the wind is just sort of carrying him along.

They also reinforce in the same talk that "you're not going to get there alone" -  he's simultaneously trying to do this with Syd (as a "team" as it exists in his mind) and FOR Syd (laying what she's asked for at her feet like a sad cat seeking praise when she really just wanted him to listen).

"Carmy said he was going to handle it" - ahaha, I get it. The fridge handle comes off - Carmy constantly says "I'll handle it." Someone in the writer's room earned a cracker.

By this point, you can tell everyone on the team is exasperated by his absentee B.S, even if half of them are enablers.

"I was going to surprise you" - oooh Marcus.

"I see you with the olive oil" - Syd calling back to the apartment kitchen scene in s1e8.

The smile dissipates from Marcus' face instantly after Syd tries the dessert and Carmen interjects with the dextrose. These man hoes are so messy - I don't care what the Hollywood Reporter cranks out, I write it as I see it.

Marcus resets and the smile comes back when Carmen looks at his dessert and says "very yes", but not with the same intensity.

Also, so much for the Coach K "don't make excuses" - when Syd accosts Carmy about the fridge door, he immediately discusses his 'gnarly panic attack' - from one angle, he's learning to open up on his trauma via his relationship with Claire, but he's also using subtle manipulation to evade responsibility for things.

"She's a girl who's a FRIEND??" - Syd

"She's a girlfriend? You think?" - Carmy

"Oooh." - Syd

"Ooooh. Okay. Uh. Next" - Marcus

If you follow this up later with Marcus saying "That's healthy" re: the cannoli with solemn eyes, one begins to intuit that he doesn't think much of Carmy beyond boss-guy by this point (I mean, neither do others right now, but he's been in Europe).

He attributes Copenhagen to Syd (which, fair enough, it was her idea, but it was a window into Carmy's life orchestrated by Carmy) and you can tell the writers are playing with the tension by this point. Carmy as buffer/barrier. He only breaks the tension when Carmen says "for real" after trying the Copenhagen sundae - Carmy's expertise still means something to Marcus.

Richie's apology to Natalie - for Everything. "For a long time I didn't know where I fit, and I would shove myself into, like, places and things where I definitely did not fit. And I think that that probably....definitely....made things worse. And I'm sorry if I took anything out on you and if I treated you like shit."

In summary - sorry for injecting myself into your family for years and riling everyone up and manipulating the whole family dynamic. Sorry for aiding in Mikey's downfall. Sorry for aiding in Carmy's downfall.  Sorry for not protecting you amidst all that. Sorry for all my "Van Halen" shit at work trying to compensate for what I lost with your family, with my own family I tried to build.

"That's why you're wearing the suit?"

"Um....I'm wearing the suit because it makes me feel better about myself."

I like that Natalie appreciates the visual confirmation that Richie is trying to be better, to practice self-love - she knows that's the inverse of The Beef and the Berzattos. And hearing Richie say "I need this place to work" and Gary echoing "WE need this place to work" is Natalie's first confirmation she's probably heard that the team isn't just her and Syd. She becomes so much lighter after this scene.

Syd rolling her eyes after hearing Carmy say he "had to draw them because the heat was off" - she's a technical and practical person, and you can tell that it's mildly aggravating (in that lovingly jealous way) that creative pursuits come to Carmy so easily. She has to absorb inspiration and creativity through observation and study, whereas with him it's self-contained.

Carmy cuts the tape as he's getting fired up/enthusiastic with Syd - noticing the details again, getting into the zone, and smiling.

Originally, the golem in me was like "haha, he ignored the lame "level 2 baby!" text from Claire, but I now realize that he reads it and then immediately leaves that "zone" - he again pushes labor onto Sydney regarding his Iberico hook-up  "uh yeah - I'll give you his number, and uh, you can go ahead and you can call him." He was stoked seconds ago, he finally seemed absorbed in his space and his work - this man is so conflicted.

"This looks kinda like a chaos menu"

"Well no, it's like, it's a thoughtful chaos menu."

"Oh."

"Look, Claire and I, we were talking about it last night, and she-she made me realize that maybe I'm clinging onto some things that....I don't know, maybe, I just, I don't care that much about anymore"

I just noticed that he looks directly into Syd's eyes as he says the last sentence - dagger to the heart of their partnership from her POV.

"And this is good, right? Because this is what you wanted."

*this is a 'your cat dropping a dead bird on your carpet' moment*

"Yo why are you being like that?

I feel like Syd's perspective on the fight has been amply analyzed on here, I have no notes.

I found it more interesting that Carmy starts ranting more hurt and emotional than he's ever sounded talking to her before. "I'm sorry, I like, fucking hated Cannoli's my whole life and now..."

*Cue ASL* "STOP. Stop."

He was about to spill his guts for her here. He can't understand why she's upset (I did this for you), he doesn't understand why she's mad about Claire (she was my sounding board for your ideas, she's not my girlfriend!), and he wants to share with her how he got here (Syd's menu, built for Syd - his pain converted into something healing).

Ugh - Syd's "you need to decide if this person is a girlfriend or girl that's a friend" demand for an answer being interpreted as an instruction. Again, it's been discussed to death, but now there are so many dead birds on the carpet to clean up.

The Crane Wife by The Decemberists plays as Carmen enters the fridge and asks Fak if Claire is his girlfriend. I feel like "I hate Fak's meddling ass"  is going to be inscribed on my tombstone by loved ones at this point, but it doesn't need to be discussed - the whole thing is beautifully broken down with the meaning behind the song here. (Ugh, I've lost the link! Whoever has this post flagged come forward so I can link it/give credit? It was perfect.)

The interjection with Richie (doing Carmy's bidding) in having Sydney approve putting Mikey's dying note to Carmen on the line though? Jesus H. Christ - it's not even that they pan to a scene with Sydney after Carmen says "I love her a lot?" re: Claire, it's literally about Syd having the final say as to WHETHER HIS DEAD BROTHERS LOVE LETTER TO HIM IS OKAY TO BE ON THE LINE.

I feel like this scene was a win for the sydrichies too, and I earnestly I don't know what they were doing there - the compliments, the only-child dialogue. "It's nice that you have Syd and Nat" "Yeah, now you do too"

But she says "thanks for asking" to Richie - even though it was Carmy asking her if this massive thing was okay. There's a wall (the one just rebuilt) between Syd and Carmy after the kitchen conversation, things are moving through Richie as the conduit now. Richie is her partner while Carmy is MIA.

Cicero and Natalie in the car:

"Appraisal on the lot came back".....

"But here's where things, uh, get funky, right? .... skyrocketing interest rates"

Remember the Olivia Coleman scene where she was talking about the market crashing and her initial dream restaurant getting killed? More foreshadowing for S3 I guess.

"Hey, if you were to have kids all over again, what would you do?"

"Oh, honey, I wouldn't have them......"  "You know, Nat, I'd um...what would I do? I would want them to be....not so fucking afraid of things, you know? I'd protect them less. Yeah. I'd want em to have more fun, make more mistakes. Get into more fuckin' trouble, you know? I don't know how to do it...but that, that's what I'd do."

Although Cicero smells blood in the water, he's The Bears daddy (and probably the closest thing to a father that Richie, Carmy and Natalie have now) - I think he wants to push them, he'll let them make mistakes, but he won't let them become "a story of complete and utter failure" I believe. And so does Natalie.

As the sign changes to "10 days to open"

Carmy "What are you guys doing?"

Natalie "Just staring at some stuff" as her and Syd go over the calendar. They're alone together in work again.

The inner narratives of each character during the fire suppression countdown are so revealing:

Syd - Restaurant closure signs, old boxes of Sheridan Road paperwork, her father grasping her shoulders in comfort as she looks away from him, seemingly insecure/dejected. (Fear of failure dominates)

Natalie - Bills and IRS statements piling up, her mother torturing her 5 years earlier, cuddling with Pete on the couch and looking peaceful. (Fear of moving backwards dominates)

Ebra - Being praised with "He's learning!" and putting on his Original Beef shirt with a smile. (Nostalgia dominates- fear of change)

Marcus - Smiling at the beef, tasting his own dessert, taking care of his mother in the hospital. (Comfort dominates - fear of loss)

Tina - "I'm grateful for all y'all motherfuckers" hugging Richie, laughing at family meal. (Love dominates)

Richie - Tiff saying "You're going to be such a cute dad", family snaps with a picture of Claire holding and smiling at Eva front-and-center (!!!), laughing at family meal. (Loss dominates - also living vicariously through Carmy with Claire or!? What a weird fucking montage, someone please explain)

Fak - The balloon popping repeatedly (Fear of immediate failure...)

Carmy - The stove burners, the burning frozen food at his apartment, the portrait of the bear he drew, Mikey's face when he received it, the flames licking the wall at the beef, the clock at 11:51, his eyes vacantly reflecting the flames, pictures of Natalie/Donna/Cicero/himself as a kid, Mikey smiling deranged, Michelle telling him "keep going", the flash of the red kitchen clock as the examiner says "3" (wow....this gets its own post in a bit, it's late)

Then it's just interspersed shots of Carmy nodding and Sydney's nostrils flaring as they count down the remaining numbers.

The aftermath/the hugs have been well-dissected, I'll leave it to others.

Song lyrics during restaurant cooking montage

I will come to you in the daytime

I will raise you from your sleep

I will kiss you in four places

As I go runnin' down your street

I will squeeze the life right out of you

You will make me laugh and make me cry

And though we try to forget it

You will make me call your name

As I shout it into the blue summer sky

And we may never meet again

So shed your skin and lets get started

And you will throw your arms around me

Song lyrics from "I gotta go call my girlfriend"

I have dreamed of you in the daytime (Claire working the ER)

And I have watched you in your sleep (Carmy grocery shopping)

I met you in high places (Carmy cooking while wearing his The Beef shirt - regression much?)

Touched your head and touched your feet (Syd scrubbing the floor)

And though I disappear from out of you (Claire leaving the ER)

And though I disappear from out of you (Sydney on transit watching the game - announcer says "they need a miracle")

And though I try to forget it (Carmy cooking/shredding cheese)

You will make me call your name (Sydney getting home)

As I shout it into the blue summer sky (Sydney getting undressed, revealing the 3 of Swords tattoo - Claire walking in and kissing Carmy)

"We may never meet again" (goes to black)

Apologies if someone already broke all of this down, but what in the heavy-handed fuck is this?

[ilynpilled]

u know a thing i really do love about jaime’s arc is that what he wants to even achieve is actually interrogated pretty thoroughly in affc. like it is very much about grueling internal development rather than a simple linear trajectory. the thing with a lot of reformation arcs (george’s words: link) and characters who seek their “honor” back is that it is often dealt with in a pretty straightforward way. how people even define goodness and the nuances of morality and altruism and how self concept is tied to how you are perceived by others and certain flawed moral constructs, in medieval fantasy especially, is often not really that focused on. jaime as a character already has such a multifaceted relationship with it all, it is a core part of his story: “honor” in asoiaf exists within a system and it is full of contradictions. moral constructs are also very much rooted in an ultimately feudalistic structure. and when you throw “glory”, within feudalistic constructs of chivalry & heroism, into the mix, and the complications of external perception and how you want to change, it all gets a lot more difficult. his character already deals with that in his origin, it is at the root of his disillusionment and fall into cynicism and darkness. and he is then forced to grapple more with change and what being better even really means after “whatever he chose…”. a lot of these types of stories tend to skim over this part when dealing with reformation. like i do think george delineates how “change” is restricted by external and internal factors in a plethora of ways that have to actually be addressed during an arc like this. there is a theme with jaime of it being impossible to compromise with certain things: he has to eventually choose between them. cost and sacrifice is examined a whole lot. even if he is arguably pretty passively suicidal he is not at a stage in affc where he necessarily lost everything, though he is beginning to. he has status, power, and a role to play, his family is in severe danger, he has certain selfish desires, he has ties, loved ones, people he feels the need and responsibility to protect. which puts him in a position that makes his choices a whole lot more complicated. the “so many vows” are still there. i also like that he is navigating change from a point where he still has the option not to (at least externally, i think internally he is at a point of no return, like he would not be able to stomach himself because he did lose what had allowed him to easily compartmentalize, other than being faced with the example that brienne provides that contradicts & condemns his entire cynical outlook he used to justify himself, and he expresses his readiness to die, like when he plans to be the first on the field if he “has” to attack riverrun, and believes he will be the first to fall too because of his hand. but again, the resolution of the whole fiasco makes the choice to reform something primarily internally motivated as he actually dooms his image entirely through his method of utilizing the persona he wants to change to its fullest potential with the trebuchet & edmure, and that he is very much stuck in the middle of things that are intrinsically incompatible. the lannister regime and tywin’s legacy is incompatible with becoming a better person. he is also repeatedly faced with the fact that change and trying to achieve things he set out to do will not come with external rewards, like being viewed differently by other people, that he is very desperate for to make it easier to not despise himself anymore. jaime does want to feel better about himself, but true redemption comes with real sacrifice. he does not see a golden hand anymore in his final dream in affc, just the ugliness of the stump. he contradicts tywin’s dogma, abandons his position, and goes with brienne at the end of the adwd chapter all the same. personally, i am seeing a clear set up, especially that he is now about to be confronted by the woman who embodies most of his greatest sins.

[chicknstripz]

∘₊✧ [[ Sun, Surf & Sand ]] ✧₊∘

Pairing ||  Fives x GN!Reader Word count || 987 Warnings || Brief mentions of PTSD, Fluff, So much fluff. Overview || Self indulgent Fives takes his family to the beach feels, in honour of father's day! 'Fives' prompt for @clonexreaderbingo

Crashing waves and salty air backdrop your perfect day, the shriek of your little one pulling your attention from your trashy romance novel.

Fives has your toddler by the hand, standing at the water's edge with not a care in the world. He looks so good like this, his tanned skin glowing in the light as he lifts the toddler over another wave. The small girl yells in delight as the water tickles her toes, her interaction with the water managed with care by her doting father. 

Fives doesn't want her to fear water like he does, the endless blue stirring memories of Kamino. He remembers being tossed out to sea, his survival skills tested in a brutal five day training session. He also remembers time spent below the waves, his flash training ill preparing him for deep sea diving. None of it had been enjoyable, the company of his own heartbeat prevailing over every memory, and none of it could hold a candle to the beach he stood upon. Cold unfeeling water had been swapped for warm waves, and complaining brothers had been swapped for a happy family. His little Sarad was smiling at him like he'd hung the stars, all chubby checks and sparkling eyes. And you? He's pretty sure you've never looked prettier. you're laid on a towel with a drink in one hand, and a book in the other - your eyes soft as they catch his. He stops to appreciate the sight for a moment, just long enough for a ware to crest over Sarad's waist. She squeals in surprise and holds tight to him, her little arms barely covering his chest.

"Woah, you alright there lil one?"

She nods, her curls tickling his jaw with each move.

"You sure? We can say hello to your Buir for a bit if you want. Maybe build a sandcastle?” 

She nods again and Fives takes this as a sign she’s done with the water, at least for now. He drops her to her feet once the water laps at his ankles, watching with a smile as she totters up the beach with giggles. He’s not at all surprised to see you’ve pulled out a holorecorder, your form dropped to one knee to get Sarad’s best angle; and he can’t help but tease you as you lift the cam to include him in the shot. 

“Why cyare, I’d never thought you’d ask! Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”

He watches you roll your eyes, your expression giving away the flush of heat that rises to your cheeks.

“We’re already married, di’kut” “And what if I wanted to marry you again?” He’d marry you a billion times if he could, on as many planets as you wanted. All he wanted was for you to feel loved and appreciated, to know that you’d been and always would be the center of his galaxy. 

“I don’t think it’s entirely necessary ...” “Oh, but it is!” He beams as he cuts you off, happy to watch the effect his words have on you. The subtle shift of weight from side to side, the shift of your brows and lips; it all tells him he’d made you feel warm and happy. “But what about the cost?” “What about it?” “We can’t afford it, not on that ‘pension’ they gave you” Fives scoffs. The republic had decided some years back that his service deserved a soldier’s pension. It was, in his opinion, nothing more than a publicity stunt. The sum was barely enough to repay his vode for years of pain and loss, but it was also better than nothing - which was what they were due to get before Senator Chuchi stepped in. “My brothers will help.” “Fives, I don’t want them paying for something we don’t need.” He drops beside you with a chuckle, gathering Sarad into his arms and settling her atop his crossed legs. The blanket more than protected her from the warm sand, but he was feeling indulgent and protective today; her happy giggles encouraged his internal desire to dote on her. “I didn’t mean it like that. Kix got himself ordained. All we have to do is give him a time and date.” Your eyes widen in shock, then laughter; the expression warming your face as you retrieve a bottle of sun lotion from your bag. “Did he know? Why does that not surprise me.” Fives laughs alongside you, passing a small toy to Sarad to keep her occupied while you cover her skin in a protective layer of lotion. “He said, and I quote. ‘I’m not letting any of you di’kute ruin your cyare’s special day’. Anyone would think we can’t do serious” Your soft laughter turns to guffaws, the sound violent enough to make you snort. He’s not sure why you find it so embarrassing. He loves it when he can elicit this kind of laughter, your form near hunched over as you nurse aching ribs. “I can’t see why he’d think such a thing, I really can’t.” You spend the next few moments in laughter, settling Sarad between you to play with her toys. She’s still too young to understand the concept of making a sandcastle. For her the fun is in the filling of the bucket, and the demolishing of the castle. She doesn’t even wait for her father to say ‘ta-da!’. She’s already pushed her hands into the damp sand with a giggle, pushing the sand about to further explore its texture. “So, you in? Or ...” You lift your head with a shy smile, your eyes full of warm love as you sit on your haunches. “Only on one condition.” “Oh? And what might that be?” “That Echo and Sarad have to be our flower girls” He can't help but mirror your playful smile, his chest blooming with laughter as he reaches over to shake your hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, cyar'ika.”