#song: keep holding on (s1)

[gleesongtournament]

[wendichester]

hii just wanted to say i love your work so much and you’re literally my fav spn writer 💓💓 and your compatibility readings are so so so so cool and unique!!!!

i had an idea for a drabble involving younger dean around season 1 (maybe stanford era??) where he meets reader and they end up hooking up in the back of the impala somewhere but they get caught by one of reader’s parents 🤭

i got this idea from the song animals by nickelback and saw an edit of dean to this song and it just fits him soooo perfectly. of course you could write it however you want like how they meet or if they’re already dating, anything is fine!!!

thank you so much, keep being awesome!!

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ animals,

summary. it wasn't supposed to happen. but you and dean literally stumble into the impala with clothes already flying off. and then... the worst that could've happened happens.

pairing. s1!dean winchester x reader genre. fluffy smut ( mdni )

wordcount. 1249

notes / warnings. semi-public sex (impala), dirty talk, caught-in-the-act by reader's parent lmao, rough, messy, wild hookup, hand-over-mouth.

now playing. ♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. animals by nickelback

The second your back hits the Impala’s backseat, you're already laughing—half from thrill, half from the way Dean’s mouth is everywhere. He’s tearing off your jacket like he can’t believe his luck, his big hands skating down your sides, tongue chasing the taste of your lip gloss. He’s not slick. Not calm. He’s starving.

“God, you drive me crazy,” he mutters, kissing you so deep your head spins. “Showing up in that tiny little skirt like that? You’re lucky I didn’t bend you over the hood.”

You grin up at him, tugging his shirt over his head with a playful bite to your bottom lip. “You could’ve tried.”

His eyes flash dark. Real dark. “Oh, sweetheart,” he growls, already shoving your thighs apart, “don’t say shit like that unless you mean it.”

The Impala’s windows start fogging instantly—like the whole car is reacting to the heat crackling between your bodies. The street is dead quiet, tucked just off your neighborhood in that no man’s land between two stop signs and a stretch of trees. You’d both checked—no headlights, no footsteps, no one around.

So yeah. You let him pull you into his lap like the world’s ending.

You’re soaked, and he hasn’t even gotten your panties off yet. They’re just pushed aside, knotted somewhere between your knee and your sanity, and he’s already got two fingers inside you, working you open with a crooked smile that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I shouldn’t even be here,” Dean mutters, voice low and dirty against your throat. “Told myself I’d drop you off and drive away…”

You roll your hips into his palm. “Then go.”

He pauses.

You smirk. “Didn’t think so.”

Dean swears, hot and harsh under his breath, and yanks his belt open like it’s offending him. One smooth motion later, his cock’s out—thick, flushed, heavy—and holy hell, you don’t think you’ve ever wanted someone this much in your life.

“Condom—” he starts, reaching into his back pocket.

“Already took it,” you whisper, breath hitching. “Found it in your glovebox. You're predictable, Winchester.”

He barks a laugh—amused, wild, lit up with you—and kisses you again like he’s never gonna stop.

Then he slides inside you in one brutal, perfect thrust. You gasp, your head tipping back against the cool window, legs trembling around his waist.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel—God—tight.”

He starts moving fast—no teasing, no slow grind, just hips snapping into yours like he’s trying to mark the inside of you with every thrust. The Impala rocks. The leather seat creaks. One of your boots slips off, falling somewhere into the footwell, but you barely notice because his hand is around your throat—gentle, not squeezing, just holding you there, controlling the angle—and the other is gripping your thigh like a vice.

You’re already close. It’s so much. Too much. The cramped heat of the car, the rhythm of his hips, the way his cock hits that spot over and over and—

“Say my name,” he growls. “Say it—loud.”

“Dean,” you whimper, fingers tangling in his hair, “fuck, Dean, please—”

Knock knock knock.

You freeze.

Dean freezes.

There’s another knock. Louder.

You dare to glance to your left—through the foggy haze of the window—and there, framed in the porch light and wearing the disappointed Dad stance to end all disappointed Dad stances, is your father.

Dean goes completely still inside you. Still buried to the hilt. Still breathing like he’s run a marathon. Your nails dig into his shoulder and you mouth, don’t. move.

He whispers: “Tell me I’m hallucinating.”

“Wish I could.”

Your dad raises a hand, knocks again—more insistent. You both flinch.

“I am going to die,” Dean mutters. “He’s gonna kill me. Shoot me. I’m gonna get murdered with my dick out.”

“You’re fine,” you hiss. “Just—just wait—”

“Baby, I’m in you.”

“Yeah, I noticed!”

You’re both whisper-screaming, tangled in sweaty limbs and regret, and your dad is still outside. Still waiting. Still definitely in I’m-going-to-end-him mode.

Dean slowly—so slowly—pulls out with a hiss, like it physically hurts to leave your body. And you know it probably does, because he’s still hard. Still flushed. Still got that wide-eyed, holy shit what just happened look on his face.

He reaches for his jeans like they’re the last lifeline he’ll ever touch.

You’re scrambling to fix your shirt, trying not to cry or laugh or combust, but your hands are shaking and your breath’s coming in bursts, and God, everything’s so hot and sticky and fogged up.

Outside, your dad’s voice booms. “Y/N? Dean?”

Dean’s eyes go huge. “He knows my name.”

You freeze. “He knows everything, Dean.”

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “He’s gonna string me up with a tire iron. He’s gonna gut me.”

“Not if we act fast.”

Dean looks at you like you’re both in the middle of a heist. “What’s the plan?”

You peek through the fogged window, grab his shirt from the floor, and toss it at him. “You go out first. Be charming. Make him forget he saw your bare ass in his rearview.”

Dean frowns. “That doesn’t sound like a plan.”

“Dean, just smile. You have a really nice smile.”

He mutters something about dying with dignity, zips himself up, and swings the door open before you can stop him.

“Mr. Y/L/N,” he says, stepping out like he didn’t just commit sins in the backseat of his car, “I can explain.”

There’s a long, tense beat. You can practically feel the disapproval radiating from your dad like heat from asphalt.

Then: “You’ve got ten seconds.”

Dean’s voice jumps an octave. “That’s… fair.”

You watch through the crack of the door, heart in your throat, as Dean shifts into full good-boy mode. Which, for the record, is hilarious, because he’s got sex hair, no shame, and absolutely no idea how to talk his way out of this.

But somehow—somehow—he pulls it off.

You hear snippets: “—respect her, sir.” “—wasn’t planning on—well, okay, maybe I was.” “—deep connection. Real feelings. Not just—y’know. That.”

You resist the urge to snort.

Eventually, the voices go quiet. You hear footsteps.

Dean climbs back in a minute later, face pale, breath short, sweat glistening on his temple. He looks like a man who’s just seen his life flash before his eyes.

You blink. “Did he… punch you?”

“No,” Dean mutters, yanking his shirt over his head. “He gave me the talk.”

You stare. “The talk? Like, ‘treat my daughter right’ or ‘don’t knock her up’?”

Dean looks haunted. “Both. And he did it while holding a wrench.”

You bite your lip, then burst out laughing. “Oh my God.”

Dean glares at you. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

You grin, reach over, and lace your fingers with his.

“I already told him I liked you,” you say, softer this time. “Before any of this.”

Dean looks over, surprised. “You did?”

You nod. “Said you’re reckless, ridiculous, full of yourself... and kind of worth the trouble.”

His face does this little thing. That rare thing where he doesn’t look cocky or smug—just genuinely moved. It’s brief. Gone in a blink. But it’s there.

Then he smirks again, nudges your thigh with his knee. “God help me, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Guess you better enjoy the ride, Winchester.”

And just like that—you drive off into the night.

Windows still fogged. Hearts still racing. Caught in the act—but not sorry. Not one damn bit.

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[mentally-gone002]

Now That You’re Here

Summary: Eddie and you were childhood friends, but when you move away due to the death of your uncle Benny (yes benny from S1) that leaves Eddie alone for a few years until he hits high school. However, one day when he’s taking a drive past the old burger place he notices it’s all fixed up and there are cars in the lot and sees a familiar face leaving the building.

Warnings: none to report!!!

A/N: heyyyyy guys!!!! I’m back… after almost a year lmao😔😔😔 anyway… i promised yall an Eddie fic and im finally delivering!! I lowkey might make this into a series because of the way the ending is so… enjoy!!! I will be putting out more stuff just not as frequently as last year I fear idk tho! Anyway, enjoy!!!!!

————————————————————————

The road stretches on for much longer than Eddie rememberers as he drives faster than he should. His speakers are straining as they emit the loud instrumental part of the song he’s listening to and he drums his fingers against the top of the steering wheel. 

The full green trees blur past as his speedometer climbs upwards. A bug splats on his windshield as he turns a small bend and he turns on his windshield wipers. His eyes aren’t on the road for a few seconds but when he looks back he finds a car turning out in front of him. He slams on the breaks as to avoid rear ending the vehicle. 

“Go!” He tells the car as it slowly gains speed. He pressed on the gas and looks to the left where the car pulled out of a parking lot. 

A neon sign is glowing green in the window, telling the world they are “open” while cars are parked in almost every parking space. 

Eddie furrows his brows and focuses on the building for the time he can as he keeps driving. 

The exterior is painted a dark blue with white trim on the windows and the sign above the door is still red like it always has been, reading “Benny’s Burgers”

He quickly looks down at the doors once more with strained eyes to watch a young woman, who is his age, exit through the front door with a contempt smile. He recognizes her and looks forwards. He knows her but he doesn’t know from where. 

————————————————————————

Hours later when he’s working on his van, uncle Wayne pulls into the gravel driveway and gets out of his car. 

“Hi, Ed.” He greets. 

Eddie waves with his hand that isn’t working inside of the engine, though it’s still smeared with black grease that is sure to leave a stain. “Hey. Where were you?” He wonders as he looks down at the engine once more. 

Wayne approaches to stand nearby. He sighs in contempt before he speaks. “Benny’s Burger’s.” He holds up a paper bag with the small beginnings of a grease stain at the bottom. “They’re back open believe it or not. And with the same family, being run by the brother of that friend of yours who moved away some years back.” He looks away in thought, not paying any mind to how Eddie hits his head on the hood upon hearing of his old friend. “She’s a very nice young lady now. She graduated last year from high school down in California. She actually just bought a trailer down here a few weeks ago.” Wayne continues on. Eddie watches him speak with wide eyes and a hand pressed to the top of his head. His uncle sighs. “Anyway, I brought you dinner.” He places the paper bag on top of the toolbox nearby. “I’ll be leaving for work in about an hour.” 

Eddie watches his uncle walk off without another word, only a tired sigh and an unintentional slam of the front screen door behind him. 

He sighs with a small furrow of his brows. His hand goes up to scratch at his chin where he leaves a smudge of grease behind unknowingly. 

Is his old friend really back home? He wonders to himself with a quick turn of his head back to his engine. He grabs a tool and gets to work again, still thinking about her. He used to call her Bat, because she really liked bats. 

He glances down at his bat tattoo in distraction, accidentally nicking his hand somewhere inside the complicated metal structure. He carefully retracts his hand to examine the slice in the side of his hand right below his pinkie. Blood drops down onto the top of his headlight and he pulls a face prior to wiping the crimson liquid away. “Shit.” He mutters.

Gravel crunches behind him from the road. “Is this the Munson house?” A female voice wonders. 

Eddie turns away from the inside of his hood to face the voice, immediately meeting the eyes of a young woman in a long black skirt and a large band t-shirt. A brown leather bag hangs from her shoulder. Her hair is down and she sends him a smile.  

“Yeah, ma’am.” He nods and turns around all the way to face her. 

Her kind smile very quickly turns to relief. “Good, I didn’t want to ask the wrong person.” She approaches Eddie with a few strides. Her eyes peer at the engine for a brief moment. “Is Eddie around?” 

“I’m Eddie.” He nods at her, recognizing her now that she’s so close. She was the one he saw leaving the diner. “I didn’t know you were back.” He tells her.

Her eyes are big and curious as she studies him, and her hair dances in a slow breeze that blows through the trailer park. There are small freckles on her face and her smile is sweet and looks as if it won’t ever leave. It’s like a permanent smile, and it looks good on her.

She nods up at him, studying his face and his hair. It was short, buzzed all the way down to his scalp when she left. “You… look different.” She smiles. “In a good way, of course. Your hair.” She puts her weight on one leg and pops her hip out to the side as she stares up at him with her head tilted to the side ever so slightly. “I like the look.” 

He smiles sheepishly down at his feet for a moment as a strange feeling arises in his stomach. That isn’t people’s reaction to him, but she’s known him for years. “Thanks.” Is all he says at first. “You’ve changed too. You’re very pretty.” 

She smiles brightly and looks down at herself. “Thank you!” She reaches up to adjust her bag on her shoulder. 

Eddie leans on his van and crosses his arms across his chest. “When did you get back?” He asks her and his eyes slowly look her over.

She widens her eyes and nods as if remembering she did leave. “A few weeks ago! I stayed with my parents until Jimmy finished the restaurant and they helped me get my trailer down the way.” She answers him. “I work at Benny’s with Jimmy, and I’ve been volunteering at the animal shelter, because the cats are cute and I want one.” She smiles big and it’s contagious to Eddie, making him smile as well. He admires her rambling speech. “But yeah. How about you Ed’s, what has my ol’ pal been up to after all these years?” Her eyes wander his face in curiosity.

Eddie exhales, not realizing how much he dreaded this question. He hesitates. “Well… not much actually.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m in a band, we’re called Corroded Coffin and we have some gigs at the hideout sometimes. I’m taking another shot at senior year.” 

“Im sorry.” She frowns a bit and Eddie wishes he could reverse it so that the crease between your brows would go away. “Do you have a job, or need one? We have a few positions open at the restaurant if you’re interested.” Her thumb goes up to gesture behind herself. 

Eddie shrugs and scratches the back of his neck again while looking away, avoiding her sure to be confused expression. “I… do my own thing, to put it lightly. But yeah a job sounds great. I have to get this baby fixed.” He pats the side of his van twice. The sound of hollow metal thuds echo out briefly.

He watches her nod while she looks the van over. She doesn’t judge it or him and it makes him relieved. “Well, we have a dishwasher or a closing shift position open. If you want either one I’ll tell Jimmy.” 

Eddie smiles at her, which seems to be constant throughout the conversation. “How’s Jimmy?” He asks, although he’s never been fond of him. Jimmy used scare him years back, not on purpose, but that could have changed. He also wants to know how your family is.

She sighs. “Well… he’s engaged, so that’s something.” She offers a smile which gives him the impression that she doesn’t like her soon to be sister in law. “But he’s good. He’s been working very hard to get the place back up and running.” 

He nods. “Wayne said he came in earlier.” 

“Oh yeah! We talked for a while, said you were doing good but that I should come by and see you after all this time.” She smiles at him with quick nods.

Eddie nods yet again. “I’m glad you did. I had… a hard time after you left.” He admits with a sheepish smile that is directed to the ground. 

She frowns at that. “I’m sorry Ed’s.” She reaches out hesitantly to touch his forearm that is hanging at his side. He feels his skin heat where her hand touches him. When she retracts her hand she speaks. “Maybe we can go out sometime. You know like… dinner or something, tell each other about the time apart.” She shrugs her shoulders and watches his face eagerly. 

“I’d like that.” Eddie nods a bit too quickly, also eager to get to know her better now that she’s back. She’s been gone for so long and he wants to know every little thing that she did. Has she dated anyone? Does she have a boyfriend? Is she going to go to college? Is she looking for someone to date?

She’s smiles up at him excitedly and snaps him out of his trance. “Awesome! Here, I’ll give you my number so you can give me a call when you’re not busy.” She goes to dig into her bag for a pen and a small sliver of paper that is wrinkled but it will do. 

Eddie watches her write her number down before he talks as she hands the paper to him and their hands brush and he swears her skin is the softest he’s ever felt. “I’m never busy.” He laughs to himself. “Just school, the band and D&D.”

“Not a bad gig though.” She shrugs. “Call me later?” Her eyes are hopeful.

Eddie nods and folds the paper into his pocket, making sure to remember it as she slowly walks backwards from the driveway. 

“I’ll see you later, Munson.” She waves. 

He nods and says back, “I’ll see you later, Bat.” 

She laughs in remembrance of the nickname and turns away, walking down the street until she is out of view of his eyes. 

He notices how dark it’s become and decides it’s time to go inside. So he quickly shuts the hood of his van, hides the toolbox away and then takes the bag of cold food inside. 

“Have a good shift tonight Wayne.” He tells his uncle who is enjoying his last moments before the night shift. He smiles and then retreats into his bedroom. 

The bag of food is dropped onto his bed before Eddie digs into his pocket for your phone number. He quickly places the sliver of paper beside his phone. He’ll call you later, but for now he’s going to relish in the fact that you’re back in his life, and nothing has changed. Well… besides the fact that you both grew up and have grown as people. But he’s dying to know who you are now. 

[frutigerfischl]

How about Sevika x Reader with Sevika being protective? Thank you :D

⌗ TITLE┆SHE REALLY LOVES ME┆song: drink ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⌗ TAGS┆gn reader, protective sevika, hcs, slightly ooc, based on s1 because I haven't watched s2 yet so idk how she acts there ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⌗ NOTE┆hey, I love this idea but didn't know if you wanted a oneshot or hcs since you didn't specify but I decided to do hcs since I don't usually do then and wanted to practice! If you wanted a oneshot you can inbox me and I'll write one, also if you're wondering my format has slightly changed ★ ₊ ˚⟡

⊹₊⟡⋆ TRUST

Sevika is suspicious of you at first. She doesn’t trust easily—not in Zaun, not with the life she’s lived. “People look out for themselves,” she tells you, a note of warning in her voice. “Don’t expect me to save your ass if you can’t hold your own.”

Except she does save you—over and over. The first time, it’s instinct: her blade catching a would-be attacker’s throat mid-swing. The second time, it’s with a grimace and a sharp, “Don’t make a habit of this.” But by the fifth? She doesn’t even bother pretending it’s a chore. She just growls, “Stay behind me,” as she steps into the fray, all muscle and menace.

⊹₊⟡⋆ PROTECTION

Sevika’s protection isn’t loud or showy. She’s not the type to shout declarations or pick you up over her shoulder in some grand display. No, her protection is quieter, more calculated—shadows moving on the periphery, her watchful gaze tracking the room while she leans back in her chair, exhaling smoke. You think she’s distracted, but you notice the subtle shift of her cybernetic arm whenever someone steps too close. One wrong move from them, and she’ll put them on the ground before you can blink.

You’re not sure when it starts, but Sevika always seems to know where you are. Whether you’re in the Last Drop nursing a drink or wandering the back alleys of Zaun, you’ll feel the weight of her gaze. At first, it’s unnerving—her sharp eyes tracking your every movement like you’re a potential threat. But over time, the edge softens. You catch her watching you with something warmer, something quieter. She’ll look away when you notice, muttering something about needing to “keep tabs on trouble.”

Despite her gruff demeanor, Sevika always insists on walking you home. “Zaun isn’t kind to people who walk alone,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. If you protest, she’ll just cross her arms and arch a brow. “What? You think I’ve got better things to do?”

⊹₊⟡⋆ AFFECTION

Sevika isn’t the kind of person who says what she feels, but her actions speak louder than words. She’ll shove a bowl of stew into your hands after a long day, grumbling something about “keeping your strength up.” If you don’t eat it fast enough, she’ll gruffly ask, “What, it’s not good enough for you?” even though you can tell she’s genuinely worried.

Her jacket? It’s yours now. You didn’t ask for it—she just draped it over your shoulders one night when the Zaun air turned cold. “Don’t read into it,” she snapped when you thanked her, but the warmth in her tone betrayed her.

There are nights when the weight of Zaun, of Silco’s war, of everything she’s done to survive, catches up to her. She won’t talk about it, but you can see it in the way her shoulders sag, in the way she stares at her drink like it holds all the answers. You don’t push her to open up—you just sit beside her, your presence quiet and steady. After a while, she’ll sigh and lean into you, her head resting against your shoulder. She won’t say anything, but the way her fingers brush against yours says enough.

Once, after a particularly close call, Sevika cups your face in her hand—her real hand, rough and calloused. “Don’t do that again,” she says, her voice low and raw. “I can’t…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but the way her thumb traces over your cheek makes your heart ache.

[punkpandapatrixk]

💓The Greatest Romance of Your Life! ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

You know you’re destined to be with your Soulmate; deep in your Soul you know there’s something beautiful already written in the stars for you and your Divine Lover★

What’s the story? What’s the drama? How will they pursue you? Aaaah! This One who will love you completely and sweetly and only! ♥︎

SONG: ohhh! by Chara

A WHOLE DREAMY VIBE: The Best of Piero Piccioni

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Pile 1 – That Handsome Gentle Soul

VIBE: Emily in Paris (just S1!)

your options? – 2 of Pentacles

Oh! You’re such a tease and you have many admirers, I can tell XD By the time events in your Life are leading you to a union with your Destined One, you will have quite a bit of options, and actually, you’re weighing at least two people in this scenario. Under normal circumstances, you’d consider yourself a person of traditional values. You always think to yourself that you’re a simple and straightforward person with very ‘normal’ desires.

You want the house, the security and stability, and all those ‘normal things’ that come with a marriage. It’s all understandably expected. You’ve always thought to yourself, ‘I want what is normally expected.’ People have rules in society and it is best to keep to what’s already within the guidelines. You’ll be ruminating these values and gains a lot during this time of your Life.

No matter your actual age at this time, psychologically speaking, you’d want to choose the person who seems more stable and wealthier. It sounds like such a no-brainer; but you’re finding yourself ruminating this shit to no end. And you’d wish things could be a lot simpler; after all, aren’t you simple? Oh, as it turns out, you’re really not all that simple—especially since meeting this other fucker who’s lighted up your horizon~

decisions, decisions, decisions – 10 of Cups Rx

In the beginning, you may not immediately realise that this person we’re talking about is your Destined One. By that time in your Life, you could’ve forgotten all about this reading hahah And you’d be so preoccupied with Life’s more pragmatic duties. By this time, half of you could either be in your late 20s or early 30s, being asked endlessly why you’re not married yet; another half of you could be in your early 50s and simply wanting things to settle and get ‘normal’ in your Life.

The thing is, your Higher Self has arranged for you to meet a Soulmate, a Divine Lover who will actually show you how not normal you are if you were honest with yourself LMAO This person on the outside is actually what you are on the inside if you let yourself be. This Destined One is unorthodox, they are weird in a way that suits your tastes and they somehow align with your values! You’re crazy attracted to this about them, but at some point, you will pull away from them because you’re afraid!

You’re afraid this person will pull you away from everything that’s normal and expected of you. But are you really the type of person who regards a matrimony that highly? Seriously? If you’re honest? This person will show you that they, too, don’t particularly care about the expectations of a marriage. They will show you that they care more about the love and romance and all those sweet feelings that come with being actually in love with someone you adore. No riches in the world can substitute the happiness of holding someone you love in your arms~ With this person, you understand that <3

your True Love?! – 5 of Wands Rx

The biggest reason you will pull away from your Destined One is that you’re afraid of fucking things up with this wonderful person who seems like such a grand prize. Rather than facing the reality of losing this person’s favour out of your own fucking things up, you’d rather never be with them in the first place. And that’s such a sad thing because your Destined One would never think of such things about you!

Out of all the options you could be having at this phase of your Life, you will recognise that your one and only true love is somebody who doesn’t make you feel pressured towards making a decision. I’m getting that your Destined One is very gentle and peaceful, and they’re really understanding of the kinds of negative thoughts that often encircle your mind. If anything, your Destined One will want to erase those scary thoughts from your mind. They want to put you at ease~

They’re not weak or shy though. If anything, your Destined Person is quite shameless and they will want to win you over LMAO But they won’t be forceful or pushy. They’re respectful of your boundaries. They will only continue to come forward with Love, and Love, and just Love—they do worry about you tho ;P So, occasionally you will be able to see their ‘cute side’ when they scold you because they’ve been worried sick!

FIRST KISS🔻💛

feelings pouring sweet~ – Red Magus (Edward Kelly)

the meaning of it all? – Priestess of Beauty

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Ahhh, You Know You Like Being Swallowed Whole~ ;P

VIBE: Green Snake (1993)

your options? – 5 of Swords Rx

At first glance, it feels to me you won’t be dealing with too many options during this time of your Life where you’re being led to a union with your Destined One; but it isn’t because you don’t have many eyes vying for your hand in marriage, nooo far from it; you, just already know who you’re gonna allow to make a move on you ;P You just already know who you want to be with! ★ And it seems to me you’re the one who’s gonna do the pursuing ;P

If you’re a feminine aenergy attracted to a masculine aenergy, you’re going to lead them on. Basically, from the moment you fell for your Destined One, they’re already in the palm of your hand. I reckon you’re the one who’s gonna recognise who your Destined Person is, and it’s all because you’re a highly spiritual entity. And honestly, you’ve been through quite a lot of shit and you’ve experienced quite a bit how other people’s negative resonance brought down your protective barriers in the past.

You don’t want to entertain low-vibing suitors anymore. You can’t stand the idea of your Life being turned upside down ugly by people whose hearts are UGLY AF. You’ve got no time for any of that. You want your Destined Person and you’ll do anything in your power to make this person fall in love with you <3 I sense a majority of you choosing this pile actually identify as a masculine aenergy attracted to a feminine aenergy regardless of your gender, which makes a lot of sense XD

decisions, decisions, decisions – Knight of Swords

In the past, you’ve dealt with people who are all over you because you’re attractive as fuck. Maybe they wanted your money, status, whatever. You’re a grand prize, you know. People would be so lucky to call you their own. And you got fucking pissed with being seen as a trophy boyfriend/girlfriend—as if you haven’t got your own personality or other achievements. How about your heart and dreams and Love, right? And you know that most people don’t value you for these things. They value you for the things that, to you, don’t matter at all!

By the time the Universe is arranging for you to be in a divine union with your spiritual Soulmate, you’ll have been single for quite a significant time. You’ve shielded yourself from cheap romances. Are you a sigma? LOL You’re honestly not even that interested in people to begin with. Most of the time, you like your own company and keep to yourself a lot. You’ll have been elusive for a number of years before you meet your Destined Person by chance~ This could be a work/professional setting but you’ll still feel like it’s a destined chance meeting hahah

The moment you catch a glimpse of your Destined Person, you feel something electrifying and know immediately this person is special—different from the rest and that you need to figure them out. Perhaps by your second or third meeting, something in you has made it clear to your conscious mind that this is The One. If you’re the masculine in this situation, it’s pretty obvious you’re going to charm them so that they open their heart to you ♡ If you’re a feminine in this situation, you’re going to tease them a lot until they know it’s perfectly alright for them as a masculine to charm you LMAO

your True Love?! – 7 of Cups

So it’s interesting to see a card of a plethora of choices after all that’s said and done. As mentioned before, you’re an attractive high-quality person who’s lusted over by many undeserving asses, and I’m getting mostly this vibe, that when you’re about to make it official with your Destined Person, there’s gonna come a negative force to try and ruin your chances. For many of you this could be anything, really, but for some of you this could be an ex, or basically someone you used to be quite close to, coming back into your Life in the hopes of winning you over. Or worse—even if they know they can’t win you over, they’re still gonna come over to taunt your Destined Person out of jealousy! OMG

If this ‘trying force’ doesn’t come from your end, this could also come from your Destined Person’s end. After all, your Destined Person is ALSO popular and a lot of people are gonna hate on you for being so close to them hahah So, you and your one True Love are gonna be viewed as that power couple and before you come together there will be forces that try and separate you. It's very likely there is a time you become quite distant from each other because of all these negative intents from your environment.

You’ve got people lining up to become your spouse and each one of them could become uncontrollably jealous when you proclaim a relationship with your Destined One XD Oh, you heartbreaker~ And in the case of an ex, or a very close ex-friend who used to harbour feelings and hopes for you, this person could well break your Destined Person’s heart and make them cry. They might even try and do something very evil to your Destined Person just to hurt YOU! This, is your lesson from the Universe to decide how you’re going to protect the one and only person you say you love~

FIRST KISS🔻💜

feelings pouring sweet~ – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

the meaning of it all? – Priestess of Magick

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Pile 3 – This the One Who’ll Sacrifice Anything for You

VIBE: Titanic (1997)

your options? – Page of Wands Rx

During this time when the Universe is arranging for you to be with your Destined Person, very strange and complex situations are happening in your Life. First, it’s possible you’re already steady/engaged/married to someone else, and this is why it seems you’re not dealing with a variety of romantic options. Two, it could just be that you’re totally NOT opening yourself up to the prospect of a relationship or even a marriage HAHAH

By this point in your Life, if you have friends or are in the public eye, it’ll have been quite obvious to everybody that you’re not the marrying type. For whatever reason, you’re quite sceptical—even cynical—about this whole notion of a relationship or a matrimony. Either you’re tired or afraid of being bound by a loveless contract. You’ve seen how people switch up and betray their spouses. You’ve heard plenty of cheating couples and broken trusts. Ain’t nobody got time to open up to horrendous crimes like that!

To everybody else, you’re an elusive siren who lives in your own world of make-believe, which annoyingly only makes you even more sought-after. At this point in your Life, you appear to the world as some sort of a rare catch and people will be sneakily trying to woo you, to win you over, because that would make them look cool. Many courageous (or should we say reckless?) warriors will attempt to break your icy castle and die in vain, never realising the whole time you were wishing for a King!☆

decisions, decisions, decisions – 10 of Pentacles

To say that you ‘don’t want to be married’ is actually quite a contrarian thing. Deep in your Soul, you want to have a wholesome, a complete and harmonious relationship with a Kingly character. You want something real that most people don’t even know how to give—because most people are shallow and infantile and so poor in character… These peasants… Sigh, they bore you to death. They disappoint to no end. But then, one day…

By some miraculous encounter you bump into your Destined One. Some miraculous encounter that wouldn’t have happened at all if some curiously specific events did not stack up a certain way. It is by Divine Design that you meet at all on that very day. That very moment you see this person, your heart jump and a voice in you exclaim, ‘Husband??’ or ‘Wife??’

Of course that’s super strange that a voice within you would say that at all. You might find it cringe or think you’ve lost all your marbles completely. ‘I think I’m delusional because I’ve been lonesome for a while…’ But soon after, you really wake up to the realisation that the Universe has sent you a pretty gift in the form of a Human who’s the perfect match for you. This person is THE IDEAL, the moment, the archetype, the everything you’ve ever dreamt a true love—your true love—would be~

your True Love?! – King of Wands

The complete package. This Destined Person, is literally YOU in a different form. They may not be perfect for any other person, but for you, all your fingers fit each other perfectly. Mind you, your Destined Person is very attractive in spite of all their flaws, so it’s not like there isn’t any competition here XP Your Destined Person is definitely somebody who turns heads when they enter a room. Even the parking lot is their runway!

This person commands respect, indeed they exude a very Kingly aenergy. They are charisma personified—very giving, honourable, even sacrificial. Your Destined Person is somebody who truly understands what it means to give back to the community. A true King who gains respect for the service he has given to his people. A King like this is truly loved and revered instead of feared. That’s the kind of aenergy your Destined Person operates with.

You will be very happy with this person. You know that, thus the exclamation upon seeing them! In spite of your apprehensions about marriage, when your King proposes, when they claim you as their Queen (LOL), you simply simply simply curiously intuitively know you’re gonna be taken care of~ And that’s such a nice feeling to have to finally feel safe with someone who truly cares for your wellbeing. Someone whom you know, at all times, will make big sacrifices just to put a smile on your face ♥︎

FIRST KISS🔻🧡

feelings pouring sweet~ – Silver Astrologer (John Dee)

the meaning of it all? – Priestess of Energy

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

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[potionorchard]

Okay, but because the Vees might totally vanish/perish after S2 and the show certainly won't have time to focus on it, I wanna talk about how fucked up Valentino's concept of love probably is.

IMPORTANT: I'm not naive. I know that there are some people out there in the world who are just plain abusers and that Val probably is one of those. I know that they get off on the power trip of control and misery they bring on to others.

However! I also don't it's a hard stretch to consider that a pansexual (who leans towards servicing men in romantic/intimate situations), Latino man in the 70s has probably seen his fair share of abuse in the sex industry. I don't think we will be getting information about Val's human life or past aside from maybe how he met Vox because it's just not integral to Hazbin Hotel as a whole.

That said, Valentino's concept of love seems to be based around it being conditional.

It's a give and take. He showers a subject like Angel in love and affection, overwhelms him with this Loverboy persona that he plays up until they're wound around his finger and in total need and dependency of his time, shelter, or affection.

That's why when the lovebombing doesn't work and instead, Angel pulls away from Val's control, Valentino switches to physical abuse to keep Angel under control, to rattle his mind until Angel can chase away his support network (Charlie).

And Valentino is uncomfortably good at what he does and how second nature it is to him. It's his entire business for him and his souls to be lusted after and desired, after all.

Does Valentino love Angel? No, I don't think he does *love* Angel. I think he's obsessed with him and to Valentino, I think that feels like love in his warped mind. Otherwise, why would he text Angel constantly and leave him these lovebombing voicemails in between his usual manchild temper tantrums? I do think Valentino is obsessed with the control he has over Angel and interprets that as some sort of misguided true affection.  There's a clear high point during the Poison song sequence where the two consensually have sex and it's addicting, but the rest is overflowing with Val's need to use Angel for all he's worth and Angel unable to escape from it.

But on the other hand, there's Valentino's on again and off again relationship with his business partner, Vox.

Now there's a lot to say about these two. They argue and fight and are clearly toxic, but at the same time, they dance, kiss, and hold each other in these soft moments of tender gazes.

It seems like Val may actually be in love with Vox. And I think he is!

However... look at what's normalized in Vox and Val's relationship.

Valentino's room is filled with cameras, about six and counting according a thread on Twitter that counted the frequency of Vox's cameras in the show. They're in Angel's dressing room, Valentino's directing space in the tower, and even following him in his favorite clubs. Vox is always watching Val and considering he can zap through the cameras in a moments notice, Valentino is never out of reach for Vox.

And Val knows this, according to the final episode of S1. He acknowledges the camera and seems into it, given that he flashes it a smile. It's normal for him.

Beyond that, Vox talks down to Valentino, infantalizes Val to his face. He doesn't take Val's tantrums seriously and ignores him, texting on his phone until Valentino grabs it and breaks it. Now one could perceive this as more physical violence from Val. After all, before that, he threw his glass at Vox as well. But Vox merely steps aside in silence and continues to ignore him until he believes for a moment, Angel has quit. Which you know... prompts an excited remark from him.

Furthermore, to stop Val's rampage, he roughly grabs Valentino and shakes him, even turning up his screens brightness to temporarily mesmerize the moth and stop him in his tracks.

And again, all of this is just... normal for Valentino. He doesn't question it. He doesn't resist it. Valentino is dependent on Vox. It makes sense. He's his business partner, he uses his technology for his work as the Overlord of Porn, and he relies on Vox for comfort and intimacy.

But Vox has all this control over Valentino and Val simply doesn't seem to question it. Ultimately, once again, this points to Val having normalized love being a form of control. It doesn't bother him how Vox keeps this form of control and lack of respect over Val, because why would it? Val does the same to the souls he owns.

Why would it be any different in the sex industry, in a cycle of perpetual abuse?

Anyways, this was just a few of my thoughts on how Valentino may just approach or reconcile love in his mind as an abuser and possibly a victim in the cycle given his likely origins in the sex industry both in his human and afterlife. I just wanted to muse a bit and I'm not sure where I was going with this.

Val just utterly fascinates me, that's all.

[kittycatfite]

Some random stobotnik headcanons/other ideas cause i can

Hidden cause there’s a lot. I think about them often. It’s becoming a problem.

Stone has a hard time letting himself be taken care of because he is also an orphan and never had anyone there for him (that’s also part of why he is so caring toward Robotnik, he knows how it feels to be alone and unloved).

During dance breaks when Robotnik is alone he will change pronouns and lyrics in love songs to be about Stone.

Stone can’t dance but has a lovely singing voice and Robotnik can only hold a tune when he is singing along to something\one but can master any dance he wants. He gets Stone to follow along in the easier dances with mixed results.

Stone has the Eggman logo tattooed somewhere on his body (my personal preference is lower back). Robotnik programmed a badnik to do it because he didn’t like the idea of another human touching Stone. (Not my idea but I can’t let it go!!)

Robotnik can actually cook quite well but never really had time. He and Stone sometimes cook together in the crab after he recovers. Robotnik absolutely hates baking which Stone finds hilarious because baking is more of a science than cooking. Stone loves baking.

Robotnik made Stone’s motorbike. It has a place for a quill to connect to the power supply so he can out speed Sonic if need be. Be absolutly hates it because it could hurt Stone, but his agent loves it so he built it anyway (there are safety features so it won’t crash but Robotnik would never say and Stone hasn’t crashed yet to see for himself)

S1 Robotnik wore black satin pjs when he remembered to sleep, S2 Robotnik slept in his clothes, and S3 doesn’t wear anything or just boxers (stone consistently sleeps in graphic tees and bike/booty shorts throughout all three movies. He sometimes wears Robotnik’s during the crab era)

They watch movies together on Sunday and Stone makes pizza. It’s one of the only ways Robotnik keeps up with what day it is while in the crab.

Stone memorized exactly what brand of foods Robotnik liked within a month of working for him and began grocery shopping for him because Robotnik might have starved to death in his lab otherwise.

Stone stress bakes; Robotnik stress eats.

Robotnik loves everything Stone gifts him, especially handmade things even if he won’t admit it. He usually angrily shouts his appreciation. (ie I LOVE THE WAY YOU MAKE THEM)

Stone knits sweaters for the badniks and Robotnik while in the crab. The crab has so many soft things after the fall because Stone decided Robotnik needed comfort and never stopped buying him new pillows even after he healed.

Robotnik gave all the badniks names and Stone is the only other person who can tell them apart and cared to learn their names.

The smell of orange blossoms has an instant calming effect on Robotnik because that’s the smell of the shampoo Stone uses.

Robotnik’s parents died before he was even one and he was passed around orphanages until he aged out. When Agent Stone worked for the doctor for a complete year, he was the first person to willingly stay by the doctor's side for the longest time. Stone has mixed feelings when Robotnik tells him this (honored, deeply sad, desperately wants to offer him a hug).

Stone likes to pamper Robotnik whenever he looks upset in the lab or during his depression in the crab.

Stone and Robotnik are both incredibly possessive.

Stone stalked Robotnik home once without being caught. Robotnik installed a tracker in Stone’s body (with consent) a day later, but it was actually unrelated to the stalking. Stone still assumes he knows about the stalking and was ok with it. Freak4freak behavior. Robotnik only finds out when Stone causally mentions it in a conversation but doesn’t let on that he didn’t know.

Stone’s loyalty was mostly fueled by obsession at first. Robotnik kept him around because he was interesting to study and he made a mean latte.

Stone has a kill count in the low hundreds and is a cold and calculated killer. Only person who has ever seen him truly smile is Robotnik (and those who were nearby them when they were being gay af).

After the ark explosion Stone calls Robotnik “Ivo” more often so that he can associate his first name with being loved instead of “oh Ivo, you’re no Maria”. Stone is very careful not to say “oh Ivo,” ever.

Stone actually really likes the bald look and it’s not just a ‘Robotnik is hot in everything’ kind of way.

Stone regularly cut Robotnik’s hair before S1 because barbershops were hell for him. All the people, questions about his personal life, someone he doesn’t trust with sharp objects near his head were awful for him so Stone took classes so he could get his hair cut perfect.

Robotnik likes the domestic times with just him and Stone even if he won’t admit it (even pre crab, stone would bring him home cooked meals. Robotnik thought this was normal since Stone is his first and only friend)

Robotnik has several vials of Stones blood in various places in case something goes wrong and he has to clone him. One is on his person at all times. Stone knows and finds it enduring.

Stone was going to let an assassin that was out for Robotnik live because he was about to be arrested by GUN but the assassin insulted Robotnik. Stone deadpanned “my finger slipped.” When G.U.N. did show up to find a corpse and a pissed off agent.

Robotnik is the only one who knows the full existent of what crimes Stone has committed.

Stone bounced from marines, army, CIA, FBI, everything because he was bored. Being assigned to Robotnik was the only thing that made him actually enjoy work.

Robotnik actually fell first but blamed it on everything under the sun except love. Poor guy didn’t understand what love was until he watched telenovelas.

They are gay and need to be studied under a microscope.

[basset-babe]

five times: the second.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: unsolicited sexual advances

word count: 3.7k+

a/n: apologies for the late update! i've been sleeping in so bad lately lmao also, please do know that my writing isn't abided by the series' consecutive timeline bcs i just tend take away scenes and themes through s1 to s3 where it would make sense with the fic idea in my head, but all still well within the bridgerton series (S3 SPOILER! also i do not hold any grudge towards lady tilley arnold tho she is the rendezvous love interest of ben in s3, just made sense for me to add her here in this context) but nonetheless, please enjoy the 2nd! ciao belle!

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the three point five. the fourth. at last.

spring divider from @thyming and, again, pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

second time.

As the noon sun cast a bright glow over the sprawling estate gardens, Miss Y/N and Benedict strolled along the cobblestone path lined with vibrant blossoms and verdant foliage. The sweet fragrance of blooming flowers mingled with the earthy scent of freshly turned soil, creating an intoxicating bouquet that filled the air. Birds chirped melodiously from their perches in the ancient oaks, their songs adding a gentle soundtrack to the tranquil scene.

Miss Y/N paused by a bed of delicate gardenias, her fingers brushing lightly over the soft petals as she turned to Benedict with a teasing smile. "Have you no other plans than to spend your time watching me procure my plants, Benedict?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Benedict, standing a few paces away with his hands casually tucked into his pockets, returned her smile with a warm, earnest expression. "Actually, I find great pleasure in keeping you company and wandering through your beautiful gardens," he replied, his gaze taking in the lush greenery and the kaleidoscope of flowers surrounding them. In truth, his heart swelled with affection for her, every moment spent in her presence a cherished gift.

A few steps behind, the chaperone lingered near a stone bench, her attention seemingly focused on the distant horizon. Although out of earshot, her presence was a reminder of propriety and decorum.

Miss Y/N sighed softly, her playful demeanor tinged with a hint of exasperation. "We are chaperoned! I mean, probably out of earshot but still," she said, shaking her head slightly as a wry smile curved her lips. "You and your subtle art of flirting."

Benedict chuckled, the sound low and pleasant. "Ah, but where's the harm in a little harmless flirtation amidst such beauty?" he replied, gesturing to the surrounding garden. "Besides, your company is far more captivating than anything." His words carried the weight of his burgeoning love, though he struggled to fully express the depth of his feelings.

As they continued their leisurely walk, the leaves rustled softly in the gentle breeze, and the world seemed to slow, allowing them a few precious moments of stolen intimacy amidst the natural splendor.

"My subtle art of flirting," he murmured, stepping closer and carefully looming over a bed of blooming roses. "Or perhaps it’s not so subtle after all."

She glanced up at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "I would say it’s as subtle as a peacock in a library."

"Ah, so it’s quite effective, then," he said, leaning in just enough to catch the gardenia’s sweet scent.

"You are impossible," she said, shaking her head but unable to hide her smile. "Even when you called on me, you've brought a grafted rose to plant, of all things!" She laughed fondly.

"Well, I thought it suited you," he said as his voice softened, casting her a glance full of admiration. "A growing thing of beauty, requiring patience, care, and attention." His heart pounded in his chest, the metaphor echoing his own feelings for her.

The sun glowed warm through the greenhouse window pane. Peering from the vines, the sunlight dawned and cascaded over Y/N, rendering her breathtaking in Benedict's eyes. The golden light danced on her hair, casting a halo-like aura that made her appear almost ethereal.

Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink at his words. "For an artist, you do have a way with words, Benedict," she murmured, a soft smile playing at her lips as she averted her gaze.

Benedict, unable to resist the magnetic pull of the moment, reached out and gently touched a gardenia bloom, his fingers brushing against hers. The brief contact sent a subtle thrill through him, a spark of connection that felt both profound and delicate. "And I mean every one of them, you know," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of sincerity and unspoken affection as their eyes met.

Y/N's breath caught slightly, her heart quickening in response. Her gloved hand now in his as he gently held it. The intensity of his gaze made her heart flutter, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. Her lady's maid, the estate, the very garden itself—all blurred into a distant background against the magnetic pull between them.

A gentle breeze stirred, carrying the intoxicating scent of gardenias and roses. Y/N's eyes widened slightly at the depth of emotion she saw in Benedict's eyes, a mixture of admiration and something deeper, something she dared not name yet. Her fingers, still intertwined with his, felt warm and comforting, a silent promise held in the delicate touch.

Her voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence. "Benedict, do you ever, um, find yourself feeling, well, the same way I do in moments like these, when we're together?" Her eyes, tinged with vulnerability, flicked up to meet his, silently seeking a connection that transcended mere words.

Benedict's smile softened, his thumb lightly caressing the back of her hand as he leaned nearer to whisper, "Every moment with you, Your Grace," he said, his voice filled with a gentle ardor. "Your presence, Y/N, for if I revere you a dream, then I no longer wish to wake from my slumber."

Y/N's heart raced at his words, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of pink. She felt a rush of emotions, a blend of excitement and a tender vulnerability she had never experienced before. Her eyes widening in awe, "You speak as if I am something unattainable, a fragment of your mind," she said, a touch of playful skepticism in her tone.

Benedict's expression softened, nearing her as his gaze full of adoration. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice tender yet earnest, "you are not a fragment of my mind, nor are you unattainable. You are the very essence of my heart's desires, a beacon of light in a world of darkness." He reached out to gently cup her cheek, his touch conveying a depth of emotion beyond words. "To me, you are not just a dream, but the reality I never dared hope for. And I will spend every moment proving that to you, if you'll let me."

Meanwhile, the subtle clearing of her lady's maid's throat, positioned at a respectable distance, acted as a genteel nudge to observe the proprieties of their setting.

"Um, I, uh, apologize, Your Grace," Benedict murmured, his cheeks tinted with a shy flush as he took a small, hesitant step back, seemingly unsure of where to place his hands. "I… erm, it seems I, uh, forgot to, um, maintain my distance. Please forgive me," he added softly, his voice trailing off with a hint of uncertainty. "I, um, really didn't mean to, uh, make you uncomfortable." His eyes, a mix of nervousness and sincerity, briefly met hers before darting away, as if seeking refuge in the nearby foliage. "I'm, um, deeply sorry if I, you know, overstepped," he continued, his tone laced with a sheepish awkwardness as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to find a comfortable stance. "I… I suppose I just, er, got a bit carried away in the moment."

Y/N's cheeks flushed deeper as she felt a rush of embarrassment mingled with amusement at Benedict's sheepish apology. She averted her gaze momentarily, suppressing a nervous giggle before meeting his eyes, she reached out to gently place a hand on his arm. "Oh, Benedict," she began, her voice soft with a hint of laughter, "there's no need to apologize. I… I must admit, I too got carried away in the moment." She glanced around, half-panicked that someone might have witnessed their closeness, but finding the situation more humorous than anything. "It seems we both found ourselves swept up in the enchantment of the garden," she added with a playful wink, her laughter bubbling forth despite her attempts to compose herself.

Benedict let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing as he returned to a more respectable distance from Y/N. He couldn't help but smile at her laughter, finding solace in her lighthearted response. "Indeed, it appears the garden has a way of enchanting us both," he agreed with a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on her with fondness. "I guess we ought to keep a closer eye on decorum," he mused with a rueful grin, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

Benedict entered his studio at the esteemed art academy with a purposeful stride, the faint aroma of charcoal and linseed oil pervading his senses as he stepped within. The grand wooden door emitted a gentle creak as he pushed it open, revealing a space that, while seemingly cluttered, held a unique order characteristic of an artist's domain. It's been days since Mr. Bridgerton had paid visit to Miss Y/N; days since his apparent confession unreturned with an answer, hoping of the most favored "yes".

The studio was suffused with the soft, diffused light of late afternoon, filtering through tall, dust-laden windows. Easels stood in solemn ranks, each bearing sketches and paintings in various stages of completion. The floor was a canvas in itself, adorned with a mosaic of paint splatters and crumpled sheets of paper, silent testament to his countless hours of diligent work.

His gaze was inexorably drawn to the central easel, where his latest sketches of Miss Y/N awaited his discerning eye. Countless hours had been devoted to capturing her likeness, her features indelibly etched into his memory and transposed onto the canvas from myriad angles. The delicate curve of her jawline, the subtle arch of her brows, the enigmatic depths of her eyes—each sketch narrated a different story, a moment either observed or conjured from his imagination.

Benedict set down his leather satchel upon a nearby stool, extracting a well-worn sketchbook and a selection of fine graphite pencils. He approached the easel with a sense of reverence, as one might approach a sanctified space. The quietude of the studio enveloped him, disrupted only by the distant murmur of the academy's other activities.

As he perched upon the high stool before the easel, he paused momentarily, allowing his thoughts to drift back to his latest sitting with Miss Y/N. He recalled the play of light upon her hair, the subtle shifts in her expression as her thoughts wandered. With a deep, steadying breath, he took up a pencil, its familiar weight a comfort in his hand, and resumed his sketching. He became immersed once more in the intricate dance of lines and shadows, bringing her presence to vivid life upon the paper.

As he worked, Benedict would lose himself in the intricacies of her likeness, his mind consumed by the challenge of translating her beauty onto paper. Every stroke of his pencil would be deliberate, every line a reflection of his perception of her essence.

In this intimate space, surrounded by the tangible evidence of his devotion, Benedict would pour his heart and soul into each etch, striving to capture the true spirit of Miss Y/N with every stroke of his pencil.

"Someone seems smitten, don't you think, brother?" Anthony's teasing voice broke through Benedict's intent stare as he drew, jolting him out of his reverie. A faint blush tinged Benedict's cheeks as he glanced up, his hand pausing mid-stroke.

Benedict's older brother stood in the doorway, a playful smirk playing on his lips as he observed the tableau before him. Benedict chuckled softly, the sound carrying a hint of embarrassment. "I'm merely capturing her likeness as an artist," he protested, though the affection in his gaze betrayed his true feelings.

Anthony's grin widened, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Of course, dear brother," he replied, his tone dripping with amusement. "But one might argue that your portraits of Miss Y/N are a tad... shall we say, inspired?"

Benedict rolled his eyes good-naturedly, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Perhaps," he conceded, returning his attention to the paper before him. "But can you blame me? She's quite the muse."

With a knowing laugh, Anthony stepped further into the studio, his presence injecting a sense of levity into the room. "Indeed she is," he agreed, his gaze drifting to the scattered sketches of Miss Y/N that adorned the walls. "But do try not to get too lost in your musings, brother. The real Miss Y/N might start to wonder what's keeping you so occupied."

Benedict nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Point taken," he said, his focus returning to his work. But as he etched his pencil into the paper once more, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to the enigmatic woman who had captured his imagination—and his heart.

"Oh, and a letter arrived. It's for you," Anthony handed as sealed letter, "from a Lady Tilley Arnold. Seems urgent." Benedict stopped as he looked at his older brother whose held a knowing look. "I am not one to pry for I am one with your contentment, brother, but it seems you have unfinished business?"

"It is not what you are implying, brother. We are done. Lady Arnold had bid me done then. It is probably purely audience." Benedict replied focusing back to his work.

"Then I shall leave you to it, brother." Anthony left the letter on the stool and stepped out the studio closing the door, leaving his brother with his thoughts.

After his brother's departure, Benedict found himself unable to shake the lingering thoughts about why Lady Arnold had sought his audience. Their relationship had long evolved beyond the realms of a passionate love affair, and any such intimacies had faded into the past. Instead, he now saw himself as a respectable bachelor, poised to fulfill his societal obligations and perhaps find a suitable wife.

Despite this unexpected shift in their dynamics, the unexpected summons from Lady Arnold had stirred a curious blend of nostalgia and apprehension within him, prompting him to ponder the nature of their current connection.

As Benedict retired to his townhouse for the evening, his mind buzzed with conflicting thoughts about the impending meeting with Lady Arnold. While he harbored no romantic, nor amorous, feelings for her, the prospect of their encounter tomorrow left him feeling decidedly uneasy. After all, he had been actively courting Miss Y/N, and the mere notion of being seen with Lady Arnold had the potential to ignite scandalous gossip.

But then a knock sounded. In the dimly lit parlor of Benedict's townhouse, a cloaked woman stood before him, an air of melancholy clinging to the elegant form. "Lady Arnold, good evening! Do come in." He moved aside as the women entered. "To what do I owe--" He was cut off as Lady Tilley spoke, her expression tinged with a mix of determination and vulnerability. "Benedict, I sought you out because I'm leaving London soon. I wanted to bid you farewell before I go."

Benedict nodded politely, though a flicker of curiosity danced in his eyes. "Of course, Lady Arnold. It's kind of you to say goodbye."

But as their conversation unfolded, Benedict couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Lady Arnold's visit than a simple farewell. Her demeanor seemed to betray an underlying tension, a sense of urgency that belied the pleasantries of their exchange.

"Lady Arnold," Benedict began, his voice laced with a hint of concern, "is everything alright? You seem... troubled."

Lady Arnold hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering uncertainly before she squared her shoulders, as if steeling herself for what was to come. "Benedict, there's something I need to tell you," she confessed, her tone serious. "Something I've been meaning to say for quite some time." Taking a deep breath, she forged ahead, her words measured yet tinged with emotion. "I... I've realized that I can't bear the thought of leaving without expressing how I truly feel."

Benedict's eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing to comprehend the implications of her confession. "How you feel?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lady Arnold nodded, her gaze unwavering as she held his gaze. "Yes, Benedict. I know the risks of me being seen here in your residence but it seems that you have not responded to my correspondence... I have come here to say that I've been thinking about us, about our past, and... I can't deny that I still feel something between us."

Benedict's mind flew to the letter he placed on his desk earlier the night he reached his townhouse. He didn't even want to open it knowing what it could contain. A rakish past he, quite possibly, no longer wants to open. Benedict, then, felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him, memories of their shared history flooding back with startling clarity. Yet, beneath the surface, a sense of unease gnawed at him, a silent reminder of the boundaries he had vowed to uphold.

"Tilley," he began tentatively, his words hesitant as he struggled to find the right response. "I… I'm not sure what you mean. Our past is just that, the past."

But Lady Arnold was undeterred, her resolve unwavering as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But what if it doesn't have to be? What if we could recapture the passion we once shared?"

Benedict's heart quickened at her words, torn between the allure of nostalgia and the reality of his present circumstances. "I... I don't know, Tilley," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Things have changed. I've changed."

Undeterred, Lady Arnold reached out to touch his hand, her touch soft and pleading. "Benedict, please. Don't you remember how good it used to be? Just one last time, before I leave."

Benedict felt a surge of conflicting emotions welling up inside him, his mind spinning with indecision. "I… I can't," he finally answered removing his hand from hers, his voice heavy with his conscience. "It wouldn't be right, just like you decided."

Lady Arnold's eyes gleamed with a mixture of longing and sorrow as she looked at Benedict. "Do you remember, Benedict," she began, her voice soft yet laden with emotion, "those nights we shared? How the world seemed to disappear when we were together? Every stolen moment, every secret touch… it was as if time stood still just for us." She took a step closer, her gaze never wavering. "The way we used to laugh, our whispers filling the darkness with promises only we understood. We explored each other's souls and bodies with such intensity, such reckless abandon. Every touch was a symphony, every kiss a sonnet. Our passion burned so bright, like a flame that could never be extinguished."

Her voice faltered slightly, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "We were invincible then, weren’t we? Bound by nothing but our own desires. It was a love that consumed us, left us breathless and wanting more. Even now, I can feel the echoes of those nights, the way your touch could ignite something deep within me, a fire that no one else could ever hope to spark."

She spoke of memories shared, of passion ignited long ago, and hinted at desires yet unfulfilled. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure, Benedict found himself ensnared by her magnetic presence, a faint echo of their past intimacy stirring within him as she caressed his jaw.

As the tension between them reached its zenith, Lady Arnold's advances became bolder, her fingers trailing lightly along the curve of Benedict's jawline as she leaned in for a kiss. For a fleeting moment, their lips met in a passionate embrace, igniting a spark of longing that threatened to engulf them both.

But as quickly as it began, Benedict pulled away, a confused expression clouding his features. "I am afraid it has ended," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "This... it no longer feels right." His words hung heavy in the air.

Lady Arnold's expression softened, a hint of sadness clouding her eyes. "I know things have changed, Benedict. We have changed. But those memories... they still linger. A testament to what we once shared, a rendezvous that defied everything and everyone."

She reached out, her fingers grazing his hand. "Tell me you remember, Benedict. Tell me that those moments meant as much to you as they did to me."

Benedict felt a lump form in his throat as Lady Arnold's words washed over him. Her memories mirrored his own, a testament to the bond they had once shared. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to respond.

"Of course I remember," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "Those moments were among the most exhilarating experiences of my life. We had an affair, some rendezvous that was."

Lady Arnold's eyes softened at his confession, a flicker of hope igniting within them. "Then why can't we have it again, Benedict? Just one last time, before I leave. Let me carry that memory with me."

Benedict sighed, "Because things are different now," he said gently. "Our lives have moved on. What we had was rousing, but it's part of a past that no longer exists."

Lady Arnold's expression crumpled slightly, her hope waning. "But why?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why can't we hold onto it, just for a little while longer?"

Benedict took her hand in his, his touch both firm and tender. "Because it wouldn't be fair to either of us," he replied softly. "I can't give you whatever temporary high you want, not when my heart belongs to someone else now. It would be a lie, a betrayal of what we both deserve."

Tears shimmered in Lady Arnold's eyes as she listened to his words. "I understand," she said finally, her voice barely audible. "I just... I had to try."

Benedict squeezed her hand gently before letting go. "I know," he said. "And I'm grateful for what we shared, Tilley, truly. But we both need to move forward, to find happiness in the lives we've chosen. You know it, this cannot be."

Lady Arnold nodded, her shoulders sagging with resignation. "I suppose this is goodbye then," she murmured, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.

"Yes," Benedict agreed, his voice tender. "Goodbye, Lady Arnold. I wish you all the best."

With a final, lingering glance, Lady Arnold turned and walked away, leaving Benedict standing alone in the dimly lit parlor. As the door closed behind her, he felt a profound sense of closure, mingled with the bittersweet pang of lost love. He knew he had made the right decision, but the echoes of their past would remain with him, a poignant reminder of a passion that had once burned so brightly.

taglist: @novausstuff // @pussyslayerhd // @amoosarte // @jupitervenusearthmars

again, please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series!

[warblogs17282]

I've seen a few people call this line from Octavia a plothole so I quickly want to explain why it isn't a plothole.

The simple answer is this, Octavia does not know that Stolas was actually attempting to call her constantly over the month.

There's two main points of contention that I want to dispel here.

The first being this, and I want to mention two very important things here.

1: Octavia's headphones here are specifically attached to a music player device of sorts, it looks incredibly similar to a iPod, it is not Octavia's mobile phone. (This point is going to relevant very soon)

2: Pay attention to specifically when Octavia takes a headphone off, she takes it off when Stella gets to the word 'hilarious!', and she only starts looking their direction when Stella says 'fucking month', with both of these proving that Octavia did not hear anything that would've told her that Stolas was continuing to try and call her.

Meaning that as far as Octavia knows, Stolas only tried to call her once and then just didn't even try making contact with her again over that month.

As for why I specifically bring up point 1, pay attention to what Octavia plugs her headphones into during s1 e2, that's right, her mobile phone.

Now, let's look at what Octavia plugs her headphones into during s2 e12, it's specifically a music player, with the device looks something like an iPod.

But, I think we can both agree that the device Octavia is holding does not match the look of Octavia's mobile phone at all, as shown in s1 e2, and earlier on in s2 e12 as well.

It's definitely the same mobile phone from s1 e2 as well, it has the exact same star and moon symbol on the back of the phone case in s2 e12 as we see in s1 e2.

What am I proving by bringing this up? I'm proving that Octavia never had access to her mobile device again after Stella took it off her a few minutes into the episode after Stolas called.

Which also proves without a shadow of a doubt why Octavia never knew about the fact that Stolas did keep attempting to call her (if the 'trying to call her all fucking month' line didn't make that obvious enough), Octavia never had possession of her phone during that month, Stella took the phone off her and purposefully kept it from Octavia, to prevent her from being able to talk to Stolas again.

So again, as far as Octavia knows by this point, Stolas made no attempt to make contact with her again after that one phone call a month ago.

So no, her saying that line during her song is not a plothole in the slightest.

[daisybell17]

Dancing with Loki hc’s:

“Alright the food is on the way…eughhhh I’m so tired” You fall onto the couch and closing your eyes for a second

“Gods me too…This week was something was so damn frustrating” Loki huffed out as he laid his back on the floor and ran his hands through his hair

There was a short silence as you both laid there in exhaustion

Loki sits up and looks at you “You want me to put on some music?”

“Not really…i feel like i’m going to fall asleep” Slurring your words as you slowly drift off

“But if we fall asleep now we might be up till late”

“I don’t care let me sleep” You murmured back

You hear Loki laugh to himself

He then tapped your forehead and you look up to see his tired expression, handing you a glass of water “You haven’t drank since you got home half an hour ago”

You smile and take the glass, finishing it entirely in mere seconds

“Cmon let’s danceeee, it will wake us up a little before the food gets here”

“hmmm noooo! please just let me rest” You groan, slamming your face with a pillow

Instead of leaving you alone to rest Loki had turned the speaker on, blasting some modern Asgardian music

“Loki turn it off pleaaeeeee” He didn’t listen and instead started dancing

You removed the pillow from your face and watch as your goofball of a boyfriend started putting his heart and soul into the silliest and goofiest dance moves you have ever witnessed

Smiling at his impressive moves you watched as Loki danced to the music

(ik yall have seen the behind the scenes of Loki S1 where Tom us busting some moves, so just imagine the same thing)

As the song ends and another pop song comes on, A midgardian one now, he extends his hand out, inviting you to dance

You smile and shake your head as you are still so genuinely tired

“Oh cmon darling! don’t leave me hanging now”he pouts at you but continues to shake his hips from side to side

You watch as he tries his best to get you up, but now you give in, moving your shoulders a little

His face lights up as you start moving a little…he grabs your hand and yanks you up, pulling you close to his chest. Staring into his eyes you smile and he twirled you around.

Laughing as you spun, you both started dancing to the cheesy pop song. You love this. Everything. Every time you’re with Loki. Every moment with him felt like you could swim, even when everything tries to drown you

The song comes to an end and you both are panting, exhausted from dancing.

Collapsing back onto the sofa, you continue to catch your breath when…”We can keep the christmas lights up till January”

“And this is our place, we make the rules”

Its you and Loki’s song

Opening your eyes, your met with a blushing Loki, hand reaching out to yours

Grabbing his hand, you stand and put your chest against his

“And there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear” Loki locks his eyes onto yours, his right hand on your waist, the other holding your hand, interlocking both your fingers

You both sway from side to side as the song continues to play, he swears you are the most perfect being in all of the nine realms, hell, the entire universe in fact, you were his, he was yours

“Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?…Can I go where you go” Loki twirls you around as the chorus starts playing, pulling you back in as face him again.

You rest your head on his chest and smile, enjoying this simple moment of love

“Can we always be this close forever and ever?” Loki leans you back, kissing you deeply. You grab his jaw, pulling him deeper. You stay like this for a moment before he pulls you back up and goes back to slow dancing, swaying you both side to side, twirling you here and there

“And ah, take me out, and take me home” He pushes you back onto the couch ever so slightly

He kisses you deep, hands on your waist, your own hands running through his beautiful hair. Oh his beautiful hair.

His knees presses in between your legs as his lips trail down your neck, marking you up, marking his pretty girl up with kisses

“You’re my, my, my, my…Lover” “L-Loki mhmph…” You call his name out as you become sensitive

The doorbell rang. Foods here! and things were just getting good…You push Loki off and grab the money to pay.

Setting the food down on the counter, you start unpacking the takeout packages when suddenly Loki grabs you by the waist

“Oh my darling not just yet, I want to dance some more…oh and! mark your pretty little body up before we eat…”

——————————————————————————

(a/n): hope yall enjoyed this! ik it’s been awhile but a lot of things have been happening in my life and i’m just doing my best to relax for a bit! Also Loki S2 Ep1 was amazing!!

[gleesongtournament]

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BLACK NOIR | EARVING (the boys)

—

“Pandora’s Melody” (Black Noir x Fem!Reader)

| It’s your first Christmas Benefit since working for Vought and you’re starting to chafe a little at all the rules. Least the music’s finally getting good tho.

| SFW, office rules, workplace discrimination(?), Vought International’s dress code policy & casual disregard of The Crown Act

| Pic Source: The Boys (s1)

| 800+ words

“Don’t fuck this up,” Ashley had said, sweaty handkerchief that was far too drenched to mop anything else up clenched tightly inside her fist, and a closed lip smile straining her spotty red painted lips.

And for your part you’d smiled back, nodded your head like a heavily - and repeatedly - hit bobble head; eager to keep your position and even more desperate not to be seen as the unfriendly black girl lest you lose your job.

To your credit it’s not until far later in the evening when everybody’s inhabitions are totally fucked, the camera crews and reporters are gone, and even most of The Seven have left to do things far less beneath them than attending a company mixer that you loosen the hold your heart’s keeping on Ashley’s words just…a bit.

Suddenly the music gets a little less mind numbingly fucking boring too and your mood gets a little less sullen, and even with your mandatory three inch heels shackled to your feet you finally begin to feel the music. So bobbing along, and finally downing the singular glass you’d been nursing the whole evening, you find yourself searching out whoever’s creating the new and far more engaging melody.

Your heart almost stops when you realize it’s Black Noir at the piano, gloved fingers flying over the keys, quite literally the only hero still bothering to attend this thing.

When a quick glance up shows that even Mr. Edgar’s no longer in attendance - though never unseeing you’re sure - you start talking mostly out of shock. You’ve never really been this close to any of the hero’s before now.

“Good - ah - good choice,” you murmur, “Hapless is really just such a downer for a Christmas Benefit.”

Muscles tense and breath short, fingers clasped together behind your back like a vice, you wait a beat for his reaction.

When all he does is kind of glance your way though you nearly breath out a sigh right in front of him before catching yourself, and you feel so free that for a second you want to take your hair down from its “more professional” slicked back bun so you can really feel the music through you.

Instead you untuck your dress shirt to quell the urge. Fuck, your pantssuit was starting to feel increasingly more suffocating the longer you worked here. At this point you felt like you’d end up buried in the damn thing then forced to partially exist as a pantsuit wearing ghost for the rest of your forever unrest for good measure—

—annnd think positive thoughts. The music is good, you want to sway. You settle for keeping up your subtle head bop and adding a few soundless taps against your thigh to the mix.

After he doesn’t slice you in half - or some other such gruesome death dealing action - you take another few moments to identify the song Noir himself has begun playing.

It’s lovely, and as much as you want to close your eyes to visualize the song’s name a bit better in your mind you opt not to so you can continue watching the way that Noir plays.

It’s more graceful than you’d expect (but considering the way you’d seen him train that was a little foolish of you). The silent hero’s fingers move across the keys like a true virtuoso, hands gliding from note to note with hardly a thought but still exactly right. In the entire time that it takes you to place the song he doesn’t miss a single beat and doesn’t lose his tempo; not a thing about how he plays looks or even sounds off.

Normally you’d be remiss to label anything perfect, but if there were ever an exception…

…Noir’s playing was perfect.

A small smile stretches your plush lips.

Delightfully so.

“The Minute Waltz,” you say after finally placing the song, only shuffling in place a little.

Which is how in the next minute you end up seated next to him after his head had snapped to you - and honestly you’d half figured he’d stopped minding you by that point so you’d been plenty surprised to find out otherwise.

Black Noir had stared you into submission with exactly one incline of his head to convey his invitation in any clear manner until, with held breath and a prayer, you’d sat down beside him where he’d made room on the piano bench.

Then it’s touch and go as - with your heart firmly in your throat and hoping to god you don’t screw anything up - Noir takes to eventually wanting you as more than just a captive audience. He plays a few simple chords, pauses, then looks over to you until after not too long you begin copying him.

By the end of the function your heart’s settled and you can slowly, but steadily, get through the entirety of Gymnopedie No.1 - with Noir pushing the pedal of course.

He even gives you a little silent round of applause once you’ve played through it on your own.

Like that, Noir at your side and surrounded by all the drunk limp dicks you work with tripping and throwing up over themselves, is the first time you feel like a real part of Vought.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

Um, I just wrote this tonight at random and with a cold so if there’s mistakes no there isn’t. Also, it’s Christmas and I figured I had a themed fic in me tonight so here you go and Happy Holidays (I guess)!

Don’t question how the Reader-Insert knows the names of these songs, it doesn’t matter.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[lukiaxx]

List of byler-gates

I’m just bored, but read it anyways, it’s fun

there sooo many of them, and i’m still pretty lazy so this isn’t perfect, but just let’s start

Mikhailgate

This is practically anti byler theory, but nvm

So, Dimitri has a son named Mikhail, which is russian version of name Michael, Mike

So, people were just saying that instead of Mike, Will will end up with Mikhail(who’s technically Mike bc of the name, yk)

I think everyone was just joking, oh, good ol’ times

and willloveinterestgate is the same

Lettergate/Pocketgate

These theories aren’t the same one, but it’s basically the same concept, ig

The basic thing is, that Mike wrote a letter to Will(singed Love, Mike)

In pocketgate, Mike has the letter saved in his triangle pocket, bc in st, characters many times has letters, that were important to them, in their left pocket(above the heart), for example Hopper and El(Hopper’s heart-to-heart), Jonathan(acceptance letter to college) etc.

And he would just take it out in the middle of confession or sth

+the triangle always points to Will like an arrow

Lettergate is just basically the same, ok, idk how to describe it differently 

Twelvegate

Not exactly a byler, but theory, that Will was number twelve in HNL, and that he’s El’s actual twin

And from that, there’s theory that Will has powers, but wasn’t n. 012

Okay, back to byler

This is same as rainbowgate i think

Flickergate

This theory is very lovely! after Will tells Mike that rolled seven in s1, the light behind them flickers

and since ud is frozen on nov6 83, when you signal sth from ud, it should appear at nov6 83-s1

this connects to electricgate(i dunno if sth like this exist, but just keep reading), the electricity~are friends electric~will possibly having electric powers

so mike and will could go together in s5 to ud on a mission or sth, and kiss in wheelers garage, and that would make the light flicker(i’m so good at explaining things, right😐)

will and mike going to ud together is predicted by mike and will sitting on upside down couch in last ep. of s4

Birthdaygate/Memorygate

Soo, remember how they forgot Will’s birthday? what if all wills memories, that people reminded him of in the shed are gone? his birthday, building castle byers, meeting mike… and that’s why mike says that his life started the day he found her, bc he doesn’t remember meeting Will

for me, it’s really weird, they couldn’t just forget Will’s birthday, no, this ain’t it

Kiss at lovers lake

I’m not sure if this has a different name, but it’s that their first kiss will be near lovers lake

evidence: patrick(the kid who died at lovers lake), had a nickname “berlin wall” or sth(we saw this in the school newspaper), and it was devided to four, same as hawkins

and song heroes is abt couple who lived at different sides of berlin wall, and idk, it just connects, okay?

when will painted the map of hawkins while he was possessed, mike was holding blue and yellow meter

Eightfifteengate

Context: will left the wheelers at 8:15 in s1

in s1e1, time mark 8:15 is literally the shot where will disappears in the shead

i think there’s a season 2 soundtrack called eight fifteen

tw: time fuckery: while will was recording on halloween night, the time says 8:04 while he’s recording mike saying “did you agreed with this?”, but when joyce rewatches it, it show 8:15(byler)

“ it’s 8:15, you’re late”

btw, clocks and watches from hiroshima are stuck at 8:15

aaanywaaay, there’s just too much 8:15 things, aaah(this is just a few)

what it has to do with byler?

well, 15-8=….(wait for it)….seven. a byler number. it was a seven!

also, “the first lie”, when murray says this to jancy, the time mark is… guess what, 8:15

there’s this theory with the songs “the first lie” and “the first i love you”, and it just connects 

Motelgate

theory, that after mike’s “love” confession to el, they went to a motel for sleep, and mike and will had to share a bed, and we could possibly see flashbacks of it in s5, and it would kinda explain the two day skip

Colorgate

blue and yellow meet in the west, i’m sure you know this one, and there’s sooo many evidence in this

mattduffersbasementgate

It’s too late for this to be true, but the duffers are(/were) holding every cast member that ships byler in their basement, lol

bloopergate

Bloopers from byler scenes, basically, for example “not when i was the spy, oh fuck”, basically Finn and Noah being all giggly, i guess

bloopergate implies to every blooper, but why not to mention it

curtaingate

Sth like, that when there’s some fight happening between characters, if curtains are open, it means they’re open with their feeling and opposite 

Example: milkvan make out scene-closed, but you don’t love me fight-opened

Bonus: „ but they like the curtain. people like us are just trying to look behind the curtain”(my very bad quotation of murray, yk what i mean)

Also, Suzie had blue and yellow curtains, and they were opened

And, “and i love her and i can’t lose her again”? Also curtains closed, like wtf, this fandom is crazy

piggybackgate

El knows abt Mike and Will. she saw how they act around each other, she’ve heard will saying “you’re the heart” to mike, saw that mike has Will’s painting now

New Coke Theory

basically, old coca colla is mileven, new coke is byler. it contains some of the old ingredients(mike), and new ones too(will). not everyone likes(bc its gay ship). and when you look at scenes with can of new coke, it’s many times symbolizing byler vs. milkvan

one of my favorite new coke theory examples is this: in s3, after el gets attacked by the flesh monster, she tries to crash a can(but she doesn’t have her powers, so she can’t). this is a can of new coke(byler) and she can’t crush that/destroy it. and in this scene, we get a flashback to the lab, where she crushes aka destroys regular coke(mileven)

phonegate

mike and will not calling each other, bc of joyce’s telemarketer job(he won’t stop whining abt it)

————

i miss all these little silly theories abt literally everything

i hope the byler tag will be like this once again

maybe we could start naming our new theories “gate”s again

for example: heartfeltgat, strangerwritersgate, snowkissgate or sth

anyway, byee

[bouncypickle]

Stranger Things s1 AU where Barb and Billy get sucked into the Upside Down together and they are both gay

Barb likes music. She doesn’t really care about what’s cool or what the other kids are listening to. Her mom thinks she likes Billy Joel. Nancy says she prefers pop music but she secretly likes Barb’s collection of Woodstock inspired tapes better. She knows all the words to Janis Joplin’s Ball and Chain. Barb smiles whenever she thinks about Nancy singing into her hairbrush, giving her best impersonation of Janis’ creaky voice.

Under her bed in a shoe box Barb decorated with colorful paper, she has tapes she keeps to herself. Those she doesn’t share with Nancy. Barb listens to them when she’s alone, trying to study but unable to focus. Her mind lingers on thoughts of Nancy’s soft smile, the freckles that bridge her nose, the way she makes Barb feel seen and also so completely overlooked. Barb knows she’s not like other girls.

When Nancy talks about boys, about Steve Harrington’s cute smile and his even cuter butt, Barb feels like she’s missing something. See, Barb doesn’t care about boys like Steve Harrington or the new school heartthrob Billy Whatever. Her eyes don’t wander to the gym shorts Steve wears during practice like Nancy’s, she isn’t swooning over the California sunkissed skin and blonde hair of the new boy like everyone else. Barb stops herself, never lets herself look, because the only thing that’s ever caught her attention like that are the femine curves, the cute dresses, the lipgloss sparkling smiles of other girls.

Barb knows people think it’s wrong.

She’s smart, though, objectively speaking. She doesn’t care if the other kids in school make fun of her, call her names. Sometimes it feels like they knew even before she did, as if Barb has a scarlet letter sewn to her chest. Not an A but an L. Barb feels like no matter how hard she tries, she just can’t act like something she isn’t. She’s a smart girl, though, so she knows how dangerous life can be for people like her. Particularly, people like her in a backwater town of bigots like Hawkins, Indiana.

So Barb pretends as best she can and only lets herself swoon over pretty girls when she’s alone, listening to love songs.

Barb only agreed to go to Steve’s party with Nancy because she was worried about her friend. She has no interest in drinking with a bunch of pompous douches like Steve Harrington and his friends. Barb also doesn’t want Nancy to leave her behind. Sometimes it feels like Nancy is the only light in her life. Barb doesn’t pine for Nancy, not really, because she knows Nancy will never see her that way. Still, Barb doesn’t want to lose Nancy from her life because she’s too much of a prude to go to one party.

Barb sits by the pool, alone. The party has been about as fun as she expected. Tommy and Carol are here. Billy is too even though Steve had apparently not invited him. They almost got into a fight but Nancy convinced Steve to calm down and Tommy and Carol convinced Billy to drink beers with them. Barb finds their toxic male posturing to be so predictable and overdone. The two would probably get along if their egos weren’t reliant on people knowing about the size of their--

“Hey, want a beer?”

Barb blinks, startled out of her thoughts. Billy Harvgrove is sitting on the edge of the pool, jeans shoved up his calves and feet in the water. He’s holding up a can of beer in offering. To her. Barb can’t think of two words Billy has ever said to her before now.

“I don’t drink,” she tells him.

He snorts, cracks open his beer, “That’s boring.”

“No, I just happen to enjoy keeping all of my brain cells,” she shoots back.

Billy tips his head back when he laughs. He must be drunk or something, otherwise he wouldn’t be caught dead talking to her. 

“Ouch,” he sips his drink, “The hell are you doing at a party then? You just come here to mope in some rich dude’s pool by yourself?”

Barb scowls, “Why are you talking to me?”

Billy rolls his eyes, gestures over his shoulder, “They’re all screwing each other. If I had known this was that kind of party, I would have brought a date.”

And I wouldn’t have come, Barb thinks to herself, sighing.

“So?” Billy prompts, like he’s waiting for Barb to answer a question she’s pretty sure he didn’t ask. She scrunches up her face, peers over her glasses at him. He grins, “How about it, Red? Wanna, you know? You and me?” 

Barb guffaws, “What? Why would I ever do that with you?”

He laughs too, “Damn, you really know how to break a guy’s heart.”

“That’s not funny,” Barb shoots back, even though she’s still chuckling, “What if I thought you were serious? That’s how you hurt a girl's feelings, you know.”

Billy rolls his eyes, “Please. You should be so lucky.”

“Oh right,” Barb snaps, “Because you’re every girl’s dream. Who doesn’t love the stereotypical bad boy who's secretly just an asshole with mommy issues?”

“Damn,” Billy smiles, shakes his head, “You’re a bitch.”

Barb scowls. Her face flushes in anger. She has a vicious retort on the tip of her tongue but Billy speaks again before she can say it.

“I respect that,” Billy continues, “Everyone here is so damn boring. No one says anything they’re thinking.”

“That’s because they aren’t,” Barb huffs.

Billy drinks down the rest of his beer, tosses the can over his shoulder like he doesn’t have a care in the world where it ends up. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” he points out suddenly, “What are you doing here if you hate it so much?”

“Nancy asked me to come,” Barb admits.

“And then she ditched you?” Billy burps. Barb scowls at him but he just grins, “Wow, King Steve must be hung.”

Barb shrugs, “So I’m told.”

Billy cackles, “Jesus. You don’t hold back anything, huh? Why does everyone think you’re some quiet nerd with a stick up her ass?”

Barb frowns, “Because they never talk to me. And I’d have nothing to say to them, probably.”

“Plenty to say to me, though,” Billy points out. He fishes out a pack of cigarettes, offers them out to her. Barb shakes her head and he just shrugs, getting one out for himself and lighting it up.

“Maybe I’m just that bored,” Barb sighs, “They aren’t even playing good music.”

“I know!” Billy gets his smoke between his fingers and gestures at Steve’s house with it, “Who listens to Modern English? How about some Motorhead or something?”

Barb smiles, “Of course you like Motorhead. Though Bang to Rights is a good song, I’ll admit.”

“Damn straight it is!” Billy narrows his eyes at her, “What do you listen to, then? Probably The Beatles or something.”

Barb snorts, “Not a chance. I’d rather listen to out of tune elevator music,” she shares a laugh with Billy again, “And, I don’t know, I like a lot of stuff. Tonight I’m in the mood for...Adam Ant.”

Billy splutters, “The Goody Two Shoes guy?! How can you criticize this and listen to that crap?”

Barb snickers, “What can I say? I’m a multifaceted individual with unique experiences and tastes, William.”

"Ugh, don't call me that--What's your name again?" 

"Barb," she supplies.

"Barbara," he points his cigarette at her, "William makes me sound like a fucking nerd."

"And Billy makes you sound like a five year old," Barb tuts, "But fine. Don't call me Barbara and I won't call you William."

Suddenly Barb's hand throbs with fresh pain and she winces. A drop of blood slips out from under the cloth over her wound. It splashes into the pool. Billy grimaces.

"Damn," he mutters, "How bad is it?"

"It's fine--" Barb starts.

Billy shoots to his feet. "Look out!" he yells and then he tackles her off the diving board. 

Barb is gasping when they hit the water but she manages to clamp her mouth shut before she really chokes. Water shoots up her nose. It's freezing. It feels like she's being slapped in the face by how icy cold it is. Billy's hands are on her biceps and they help guide her to the other end of the pool before they surface.

"What are you--?!" Barb starts but Billy clamps a hand over her mouth. 

His eyes look wild and frantic. First Barb takes in the grime in Billy's hair, sticking to his face and neck. It's brown, dirty, slimy. She realizes it's from the water in the pool. She's shivering. Then Barb feels something touch her ankle. Billy startles too, frantically searching the murky water they're in. He looks up at her, opens his mouth, he looks scared. Then Billy is pulled under.

Immediately Barb dives under the water after him. The look on Billy's face before he went under rattles her. She sees him struggling with vines or tentacles or something wrapped around his ankle. Barb helps yanks them away until Billy is free enough for them to both shoot back to the surface. They scramble out of the pool as quick as they can. Billy helps pull her up and they immediately run into Steve's house, trying to get away from the water.

Steve's house looks completely wrong. It's not warm. There are no lights on. Everything is awash with a dismal blue glow. It's dusty and grimey. They slam the door behind them but somehow Barb doesn't feel any safer. Billy is panting. She's breathing fast too.

"What-" she starts, then, "What the fuck?"

Billy laughs, a hysterical bubble up the back of his throat. "What the fuck?" he repeats back to her, "Did we drop acid?"

"No," Barb is shivering and she can see Billy is too, "Is this-is this real?"

Billy pinches his bicep, winces. Then shrugs helplessly.

"This can't be real," he sounds desperate, "Right? This-this is crazy!"

An inhuman shriek from outside silences them. They both jump, moving a little closer, before exchanging looks. Billy says what the fuck is that and Barb says we need to get out of here. Barb grabs Billy's arm, puts a finger to her lips. Then she's pulling Billy with her more deeply into Steve's house. Billy lets her, stumbling over his boots a little. They move into a bedroom. Vines are draping over the ceiling and clinging to the floor. Just as they're closing the door they hear the sliding glass door of the living room shatter.

Barb almost gasps but stops herself. Billy keeps his lips sealed tight too. They move into the closet, squatting down to hide. Both of them are breathing fast but they're desperately trying to be quiet. Barb shoves both of her hands over her mouth and presses down. Billy finds a baseball bat on the floor and clutches it to his chest. She can feel him shivering where their legs are pressed together. Barb is peeking through the slats of the closet door when she sees it. She jumps and it makes Billy jump too. When she shakes her head he stays deathly still.

There's something in the bedroom with them. Barb doesn't know how to describe it to herself. It's a horrid creature like something stolen from a Lovecraftian horror novel. It's skin is grey and mottled, pulled tight across a bony, gnarled frame. It crawls into the room. It's head parts and opens like a carnivorous plant. Barb watches as it finds the towel she had wrapped around her hand but apparently dropped. It pauses over it. The click click clicks like hisses that rattle from its throat make Billy shudder. Barb grabs his knee and grips it until her knuckles go white.

Then in the distance another shriek echoes. The monster next to them snaps its head up toward the noise. And it takes off running. They stay frozen in the closet for a long, long time.

"Did…" Billy whispers after what feels like hours of silence, "Did you see that?"

Barb lets out a shaky breath, "Yeah. I don't…"

"The blood," Billy grips the bat so tight Barb can hear it, "Do you think it was the blood?"

The monster had been drawn to the bloody fabric. Barb's hands are shaking.

"I'm-it's-" Barb stammers, "It's still bleeding, Billy."

“Shit,” Billy curses.

Barb is afraid. She’s scared of whatever world they’ve found themselves in. The monsters roaming around in the dark, chasing the smell of blood. Which can only mean something so utterly deplorable Barb can’t even think of it. That’s not all that scares her though.

Billy has a reputation. He’s only been at Hawkins for a couple months but he’s already made a name for himself. Billy outdrinks everyone at parties. He has sex with any girl that will look at him twice. He fights. Comes to school with new bruises and black eyes every other day. As far as assholes go, Billy takes the cake. And now Barb is stuck here in-in hell or purgatory, or freaking Hades for all Barb can guess, with him. Barb isn’t afraid of Billy Harvgrove. She’s scared he’s going to leave her behind to die. That would be the asshole thing to do, right?

Across from her, Billy lets out a shaky breath, breathes in through his nose, exhales again. He’s trying to calm himself down, Barb recognizes. She imitates his breathing. It does help with the trembling in her fingers.

“Alright,” Billy says, “Alright, come on.”

Barb's clothes are soaking wet, both of theirs are, but she's wearing a thick sweater. She unbuttons it and drops it to the floor of the closet. It won't do them any good dripping wet like it is. When she rolls the sleeves of her blouse up, Barb sees that Billy is watching her. His white thermal is see through and she figures her peach blouse isn't much better off. She blushes, in embarrassment but anger too.

"Eyes," she snaps.

Billy immediately lifts his gaze from her chest. Her brasserie is plum. She knows he can see it through her shirt. 

Billy smirks, smarmy, "Nice bra."

Barb smiles, fake and sharp, "Nice nipples."

Billy glances down at himself and then he chuckles, "You're more'n welcome to enjoy the view, Babs."

Barb snorts, "They aren't even pierced. What's there to enjoy, Bills?"

Billy lets out a startled sounding laugh, "Don't tell me yours are?"

Barb just huffs out a laugh of her own, "Wouldn't you like to know."

The tension between them has lessened. Billy shakes his head of ratty, dirty blonde hair, droplets of water hitting Barb like Billy's a damn dog. When he creeps out into the bedroom, she follows. The house is silent. Dead quiet. The kind of quiet that unnerves Barb down to her bones. The worrying thought that Nancy is here too leaves her. It's too quiet. Barb gets the feeling that it's just her and Billy trapped in this fucked up mess. Billy is stopped in front of a dresser, hands on his hips. He glances back at her.

"We can't stay in these wet clothes," she tells him, "It's freezing."

"We gotta fix your hand up too," he hums.

Then Billy pulls open the top drawer. It's all wool sweaters. Dusty, musty, pullovers in jewel tones. They look old and decrepit. But dry. And warmer than what either of them are wearing now. Billy pulls out an emerald green one and passes it to her. Then he pulls out a dark blue one for himself. She watches as he pulls his shirt off and quickly spins around, cursing. Billy chuckles behind her. She stomps back into the closet to change her own shirt. 

The sweater is scratchy and smells funky and matches Billy's like they're a couple of weirdos. She can't help but snicker when she stands next to Billy. He's glaring down at himself and when he looks up at her, his glare only deepens. She's taller than he is. Billy swims in his sweater. Barb's pulls almost too tight around her chest.

"I'm changing back," Billy barks, "I think I'd rather die than wear this."

Barb stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Hey. There's no one here to judge you, Bills," she holds back a smirk, "Except me. And I think you look real handsome."

Billy shakes her hand off. She spots a redness glowing along the tips of Billy's ears.

"Whatever," he snips, "Like I care what you think anyway."

"Don't be an asshole now," Barb slaps at his bicep, "I'm just starting to like you."

Billy rubs his arm even though Barb knows it didn't hurt. "Yeah, well, I don't make friends with stuck up, ugly bitches like you."

Barb snorts, "Oh, I'm well aware. I'm not interested in being friends. But I don't exactly want to die in fucking Limbo with a piece of trash like you either."

Billy's nostrils flare. He grabs her by her wrist, hard. Barb doesn't let her fear show. But her hand is shaking in his grip. It isn't the first time a boy has grabbed at her. They know her, see that bright, red L on her chest. They laugh at her, threaten her by saying they can change her dyke ways. All she needs is the touch of a real man. That'll set her straight.

"Don't--" her voice comes out even more shaky than her fingers, "Billy. Please don't touch me."

Billy snarls, yanks her a step closer by the fierce grip on her arm, "Why? Cause I'm trash. Afraid it's catching?"

"Billy--" Barb gasps, tightly. Her fingers clench into a fist, "I didn't mean it. Now let me go," she meets Billy’s eye, "You're hurting me."

Billy's hand jerks away like he's been burned.

"Whatever," he snaps, "We need to stop you from bleeding all over the place."

Barb clears her throat, straightens her posture. "Right," she agrees, ignoring the pain in her wrist where she thinks it might be bruising, "Bathroom?"

Billy shrugs. So they both step out of the bedroom to look through the halls for a bathroom. A truce quietly formed between them to not mention what happened earlier. Billy finds the bathroom. In the cupboard he finds some medical supplies. Barb tells him she can tend to her wound but Billy gruffly does it anyway. He's astoundingly gentle as he cups her hand, cleans it, puts ointment on it, and wraps the whole thing up in clean, white bandages.

"Thank you," Barb says gently.

Billy snorts but doesn't answer. His mouth is pulled into a grim line. He won't meet her eye. Barb doesn't think he's the type to apologize but he's wearing guilt on his body better than the musty old sweater. It's obvious in his hunched shoulders, tense jaw, downturned eyes. She isn't even mad at him. Yes, he's a bully, she supposes, but he's never bullied her. Earlier when Tommy and Carol were mocking her about shotgunning a beer, Billy had sneered at them and not joined in. Barb doesn't know what that means but it means something and that matters to her.

She speaks, more to say it outloud than to expect an answer, "Are we dead?"

Billy's head snaps up to meet her eyes, "No," he says firmly, "Before, out by the pool, there was--I saw a monster like that one before, behind you. That's why I jumped you like that. If that thing was out…in our world. Maybe we…ended up in its world."

"You mean, like, we went through some kind of portal?" Barb hums thoughtfully, "If that's true then that means there has to be a way out of here...somewhere."

"The pool?" Billy asks but he's looking away again, something uneasy across his features.

Barb kind of wants to reach out. She lays a hand on his shoulder, overwhelmed with a need to console him for some reason. He jumps, at first. Glances up at her, confused and maybe offended. Barb just smiles as softly as possible.

"I don't know," she confesses, "But I'm not eager to test it out. I don't want to risk that...thing in there getting a hold of either of us again."

Billy shivers and Barb knows she hit the mark with that. He nods, quickly.

"We shouldn't stay here," she continues, quieter, "That monster could come back."

[pagannatural]

2.05 Simon Said

-Dean opens the bathroom door on Sam, saying “zip it up, let’s hit the road,” and showing blatant disregard of basic boundaries that makes sense in the context of Dean raising Sam from infancy.

-Sam had another vision and insists on going to the roadhouse for help finding the subject of the vision. Dean says they shouldn’t be among other hunters advertising that Sam is a freak with a psychic demon connection. Sam is offended. In s1 Dean told Sam they’re both freaks and it made Sam feel less alone, but now his visions are making it too real and he’s sensing that Dean is on edge about his visions and connection with the demon.

-Sam basically ignores Jo. The last time he saw her he was put out by Dean flirting with her. Dean is nice to her but ditches her to follow Sam not once but twice.

-Jo puts on “Can’t Fight This Feeling.” Dean leaves the moment Sam indicates he’s ready and Dean sings the song to him in the car. Most shows will choose songs very intentionally for what’s happening between the characters, and when you actually look at the lyrics it’s very SamDean.

Sam is Dean’s light in the darkness, he’s what gives his life direction, his life has revolved around him. And he’s struggling with a horrible secret and his fears that he’s having trouble keeping to himself. There’s also the matter of Dean repressing his feelings for Sam and trying to be strong.

-Sam thinks Andy is the killer, but Dean trusts his gut that “I just don’t think the guy’s got it in him” which is exactly what he said to Sam earlier about him becoming a killer

-Dean, when Andy makes him tell the truth via mind control, says that Sam is afraid of becoming a murder and “I hope to hell he’s wrong but I’m starting to get a little scared that he might be right.”

Sam is really upset to hear this, he looks at Dean with angry disbelief.

-Sam gets out of the car and follows Andy. Dean knows that Andy can control his actions and thinks that he’s making people kill themselves but his Big Brother pull to go to Sam overrides all of that. Even after Andy commanded him to “leave me alone” Dean is out of the car following Sam within seconds.

-Dean watches from a short distance, and Sam looks back toward Dean when he hears him get out of the car and again when his next vision starts. We get these images of Dean intermixed with the vision to show that Sam is looking over at Dean.

Dean holds Sam protectively and crouches over him. He holds his arm and puts a hand on the inside of Sam’s thigh above his knee, and Sam reaches for Dean. The way Sam goes from big and imposing when he advances toward Andy to small and vulnerable in Dean’s arms is just beautiful.

Andy tries to ask Sam a question about his vision and Dean instantly barks at him to “shut up” because Sam is still talking.

-The vision was a woman setting herself on fire, so when a firetruck drives by Dean looks at Sam, Sam says “go” and Dean takes off while Sam waits with Andy. They don’t even have to discuss the plan, but Dean won’t leave Sam until he says it’s okay.

-Sam tells Andy “You still live in a van. I don’t get it, you could have anything you ever wanted.” He warms visibly to Andy when he says “I’ve got everything I need” and this seems to be the point at which Sam starts to see himself and Andy as similar in a good way. Sam basically lives out of the impala, and he also has everything he needs. Which is Dean. He says “maybe there’s hope for both of us” and Dean pulls up.

-Andy has an evil brother, so we’re in another Cain and Able situation. Evil Brother steals Andy’s girlfriend and tells her that Andy is his, not hers. He also has a thing for making people say everything is okay when it’s not. They’re like Sam and Dean’s twisted mirrors with the possessiveness and denial, only these two were raised apart.

-This episode drew attention to the question of what Sam will become, and to Sam’s relationship with being a “freak.” As a child Sam clung to the outside world for dear life, praying every night and working hard at school and actively avoiding acting like a “freak” as much as possible. Sam fought with John for putting him and Dean in this lifestyle, but a recurring theme in the show is Sam insisting that he doesn’t blame Dean for things. Sam saw Dean being admired at school and thought he was the perfect son in John’s eyes. Dean could be a violent hunter but still be good. So, Sam doesn’t feel like a freak because he’s a hunter, it’s because he feels like something is truly wrong with him, like he’s more like the monsters and freaks that they hunt. I think he believes this because 1 he wasn’t what John wanted him to be, 2 he wasn’t accepted at school like Dean so he felt othered, 3 the trauma he grew up with made him feel guilty and impure, and 4 Dean won’t accept Sam being in love with him so he feels ashamed of it. It’s the only part of him Dean won’t accept.

Reasons 1 and 2 come from flashbacks and the brothers’ arguments on the show. Let’s get into 3, the trauma. Sam was preyed on at least twice by monsters as a baby and child (the demon and the shtriga). Swallowing demon blood changed him and meant that he was marked.

But it’s more than that. His mother’s death was a mystery that John never explained to him, and he spent the first 6 or so years of his life being lied to about what his family was even doing on the road all the time. That matters to Sam. He gives the amulet to Dean in a later flashback because Dean told him the truth about what they were doing, and according to John’s diary he let Dean field a lot of Sam’s questions about Mary. John (unintentionally) gave Sam the message that he couldn’t be trusted with the truth about his own life.

On top of that, John raised him with the underlying, ever present terror that he would be horribly hurt or stolen or killed. John saw danger and darkness everywhere and he wasn’t honest with Sam about why, but he certainly raised Sam to believe that the world was dangerous and wanted to hurt him. One example is Sammy waking up not knowing about the Shtriga, just knowing his dad was losing his shit clutching at him and his brother was holding a gun, terrified. Children can’t tell the difference between being told they will be hurt and being told they deserve to be hurt.

The one person who doesn’t make Sam feel like something is wrong with him is Dean. Sam feels Dean as protective and loving and reassuring. His whole nervous system exhales around Dean. His body knows he’s safe with Dean’s body. We know this because Sam melts into Dean when he’s tired or hurt, he reaches for Dean when he’s in pain or needs help—he knows on a very instinctive level that Dean is safe, Dean will hold him, Dean won’t leave him.

Dean must have been so gentle and attentive with baby/child Sammy for that to be the case. Dean would’ve played the most important role in how their relationship developed early on simply because he was older, and he was given a lot of power over Sam. Dean is deeply possessive and imperfect but the fact that Sam feels safe and good and loved by him is remarkable considering Dean was four or five years old when he started parenting Sam. The warmth and care he provided as a traumatized child himself is staggering.

Their childhood was so fucked up that there was no way they were ever going to be normal about each other, and under any other conditions—basically with anyone other than Dean—who knows what would’ve happened to Sam. They were competing for resources like affection and food and clothing. Parentification is correlated with violent and abusive tendencies, and Dean was exposed to way too much violence and horror as a child to process normally. By all accounts he should’ve been a wreck and he should’ve had zero ability to regulate his own emotions, let alone an infant’s. Instead he made Sam the center of his world and his whole heart.

So. Sam fears being a freak, feels he is good when he’s Dean’s. Dean struggles with the immense responsibility of loving Sam the right way. The ways they love each other Wrong come out in violence.

They save and damn each other by loving and not loving enough, and it will be the absence of Dean’s love that corrupts Sam. The fact that this is the plot of the show and not an insane wincest theory is just ridiculous.

-The episode ends with the song “Fell on Black Days,” which could describe both Sam and Dean’s POV about Sam’s connection to the demon.

“Whomsoever I’ve cradled” sounds like Dean, and the song talks about fate and being blind by wanting to see good. The line “I’m a search light soul they say but I can’t see it in the night” reminds me of “you’re a candle in the window on a cold dark winter’s night.”

Dean is afraid of what will happen if his moral compass and light go dark, and because it’s Dean, he blames himself. “Whomsoever I’ve cured, I’ve sickened now.” A love that corrupts.

[applebuttercringe]

Arcane Episode 2 Immediate Thoughts

WOW WOW WOW.

Ok so, there is a lot. The second episode keeps up the breakneck pace. Though some characters get this treatment more than others (Jayce). Again, I like this pace considering the time restraints on the story.

There seems to be a lot more music video style scenes/visuals in this season. It replaces montages as a way to show the audeince time passing and the state of the city. Very cool all the songs have been good so far.

Viktor seems to be a little different. That makes sense, he is affected by the Hexcore now more than ever. In League lore it is left ambiguos how much, if any, of his emotions are really him v.s. the machine. But unlike in the League lore he seems to be embracing his role as a messiah to the people in the sump. IDK how he knows how to do the healing this, I guess the Hexcore just knows. This is fine, makes sense for the story and all, though I do miss S1 Viktor so far. I'm holding my opinions till the end. Also my perceptions of these characters have no doubt been warped by fanon Viktor.

ALSO, when we were shows the giant Jinx's head statue with all the smoke in the trailer I assumed that was errected by the people of Zaun after she becomes the leader of the rebelion. but no, it's there already in the begining of S2. Silco must have built it, comisioned a giant ass statue of his little girl.

I don't really have a big thesis. Here are just some observations.

1: JAYVIK DIVORCE ERA

Jayce: "I Understand now, my place was always here, in the lab, with you. We'll make this right, together...."Viktor you're my partner"

Viktor: "Our paths diverged long ago, it was affection that held us together."

Jayvik shippers going crazy right now. And by Jayvik shippers I mean me. I am going crazy right now.

This divorce is brutal.

Yeah, thats right Jayce, now it's Viktor who's turning his back on your partnership for a woman. That woman just so happens to be dead.

Also, Viktor is full naked for most of this scene. Jayce hugs him naked. They should have stopped being cowards and shown us the package.

And to follow it immediately with Jayce calling Viktor his best friend, like in S1 with the brother comment they really have Jayce follow up the gayest sentiment you've ever heard with platonic references.

2: VI AND ENFORCERS

What is the logic behind Vi and the enforcers poisonous gassing the place she played in as a child? If it's to neutralize threats because they have gas masks, have they been gassing everywhere they go? Streets included? Also, it's already shown that most Silco supporters (Including Jinx) have gas masks on hand in season 1.

3: Twice in one episode I am shocked by Jinx's ability to hold her breath.